Litchfield Enquirer

From a Western paper.

The Van Buren papers are extensively circulating the pleasant article entitled 'How to break bad news.' They could not occupy their columns with matter more pertinent to their present position. We will take the liberty to paraphrase it, adapting the words to suit their case as well as the sentiment:

Scene—The East Room. Van Buren Solus.

This night I shall rest contented. Maine, Rhode Island and North Carolina may have cast me off, but New-York will never abandon her favorite son. The Empire State governs the Union, and I, through my faithful subjects, Wright and Cambreleng and their subalterns, rule the Empire State. The rascally Federalists can never succeed in putting down my Administration so long as the Loco Focos of the Commercial City continue faithful.

Enter Blair.

How now! thou Knight of the Rueful Countenance? I have not seen thee wear so downcast a phiz since the election of Congressional returns from the whole States are in.

Blair. My liege, I have no news except from federal sources, which claim the city for the Whigs by 3200. The sixth ward is still true, though our vote is diminished. The Whigs were crowing lustily for their gains up the river.

Van. Your speech belies your expression. Save your pleasantry for our rejoicing when returns from the whole States are in.

Blair. The river counties have changed completely since your election. That Extra Congress has played the deuce with our game. Albany, Dutchess, Westchester, Rensselaer, have all gone for the Whigs.

Van. Kinderhook is safe! What was the vote in old Columbia?

Blair. Your native county has forsaken us—Kinderhook has turned tail upon you.—Our losses have not been so great as might have been expected under the management of the traitor conservatives. I have faith in these federal reports for the first time. A presentiment hangs over me that our days are numbered, but I will shut my eyes to facts and die game. The Globe shall thunder its anathemas against Tallmadge, and I will still swear that we have the 'democracy of numbers' under our command.

Van. Bravely spoken, my trusty servant.

Enter Messenger, with papers, letters, &c.

Here is later intelligence. What says our cousin of the Albany Argus? [Reads]. 'An adverse political tempest appears to have swept the State, though we see nothing discouraging in the returns. It is probable the Whigs have elected six of the eight Senators, and they will have an overwhelming majority in the Assembly. We are beaten but not vanquished.'

Blair. My presentiment is more than verified. Van, we must improve the short time left us to the best advantage—lie boldly, pilfer unsparingly, and feather our nests completely with the money concealed in the Treasury when the shin-plaster law was passed. We have the name and must improve the game. The people have turned against us, and let us beggar them in their efforts to support the Government.

Van. One hope remains. The Whigs flushed with victory will relax their efforts. We must wait the developments of another long year, and still act in the dark. If the revolution be real, I will sell out at Kinderhook, and go to Texas. I am perplexed with a thousand conflicting thoughts. Let us call the council! Oh, Cambreleng, where was thy arithmetic? Thy letter had raised a hundred bright hopes which now are doubly bitter in the disappointment.—Exeunt.