The Ohio Democrat

UNINTERCEPTED LETTERS.
The following jeu d'esprit we find in the Burlington Democrat:

No. 1.—Cassius to Henry.

Dear Harry.—What the d---l do you mean by publicly disowning me? Your letter has turned all my cakes to dough, and spoiled the most beautiful scheme that ever was invented. I was "doing" the abolitionists finely, and had almost persuaded some of them that you were the true representative of the "Liberty party," when your confounded letter was published in the newspapers: Nay, whilst at a public meeting in the act of proving you an abolitionist "in principle." I was met with the declaration, under your own sign manual, that I had entirely "misconceived your views." I have not deserved such treatment at your hands. When, at the shades at Ashland, in despairing accents, you exclaimed, "Help me, Cassius, or I sink!"—although the attempt was almost hopeless; I plunged into the stormy ocean of politics, buffeting the waves of unpopularity. I little thought that this unkindest cut of all" would ever come from him I sought to save. If you had by a judicious use of the ambiguities of language, gently insinuated that, in some respects, I "misapprehended your opinions," the meaning of your letter would have been susceptible of such an explanation here as would have satisfied our northern friends; while at the south a very different commentary might have been made from the same text. But your unfortunate letter is a perfect stumper. It can't be made to read more than one way; and whenever I speak, I am told you have denounced me as an impostor. The whigs distrust me; the Abolitionists despise me; and the Locofocos laugh at me—In short, my position has sunk to a level with your prospects: my schemes have failed; my hopes have died away; my plots have been disconcerted; and in a few days (should I survive the ridicule which every where attends my progress,) I shall return to Kentucky a wiser if not a better man, exhibiting to the world melancholy instance of disappointed hopes mortified vanity, and unsuccessful ambition.

CASSIUS.

No. 2.—Henry to Cassius.

Dear Cassius.—"Does your anxious mother know you're out?" I feel myself compelled to ask you this important question, on account of the extreme verdancy displayed in your last communication, Can it be possible that you, my friend and pupil in the noble science of electioneering, could for a moment have "misconceived my views" in writing the letter of which you so bitterly complain? Are you not sufficiently "up to snuff" to know, that "circumstances alter cases," and that the letters of public men, must always be shaped to meet the exigencies of the time? When you went as a missionary to the north for the purpose of winning the support of the "liberty men" to our ticket, I entertained strong hopes that the object of your mission would have been accomplished without injuring the cause at home. But to use your own expressive phrase, "all our cakes are turned to dough," and the extreme ardour with which you wooed the Abolitionists lost me ten thousand votes at the south for every one it gained at the north. You will therefore see, that I was placed in a "peculiarly perplexing predicament"

Between the two stools of slavery and abolition I was every moment in danger of falling to the ground; and the rascally Locofocos looked on with a malicious grin upon their countenances, rejoicing at my distresses, and laughing at my miseries. What, then, could I do? I felt that "self-preservation is the first law of nature." and I therefore cut you publicly, in order to prevent my southern friends from cutting me. But be it understood between us, that though I have publicly disowned you, in private I entertain towards you the strongest feeling of gratitude. and admiration. In fact, my dear Casius, though I don't feel disposed at present to brag upon our relationship, I consider you a perfect trump, and if you will only play your cards a little more discreetly, we shall hold the winning hand, and you will receive from me, as a reward for your devoted service, a mission more pleasing and profitable than any which you have hitherto undertaken.

P. S. Our prospects are becoming gloomy. The "Star of the East" has been terribly obscured. Though I have tried to seem "all things to all men," I fear I shall be nothing to nobody. Cassius, console yourself in affliction by the reflection that you have become a martyr to the cause of friendship, and remember, whenever you see any of our friends a little down at the mouth, to "congratulate them upon the result of the August and September elections."