New Hampshire Statesman And Concord Register

The last N. H. Patriot, in an article headed, "Crowing too soon," has the following lies crowded into the compass of about a stick full.

"The triumph (in Kentucky)" is as complete as the most sanguine friends of Gen. Jackson could wish, and greater than was anticipated."

"As regards the other Western elections we have as yet seen nothing to warrant the conclusion that there has been a falling off of the friends of the President."

None, truly, are so blind as those who won't see. The Patriot of last Monday echoes its "All hail Kentucky," of the week before—and with even more than its wonted pertinacity and mendacity, still insists upon it that Clay has "actually been beaten in his own State." To make this story more plausible than their own word would leave it, the editors of that "undaunted" print publish an extract from the Louisville Advertiser of the 13th Aug. and insist upon it that this "is the latest intelligence from that State"—when in fact, two days before the date of the last Patriot, information from Kentucky as late as the 17th was received. But this, forsooth, happened to make for the other side—and, being the truth, was probably not thought designed for the columns of the "State Gazotte." To what shifts and expedients the next number of the Patriot will resort, still further to deceive the people, we can only conjecture from the past—but have no doubt it will yet keep up the "all hail," in a softened tone, until the Maine election is over.

The pertinacity of the Patriot, in its course of falsehood, is only equalled by the case of the couple, "paired not matched," who happened, unfortunately, to be not one but two in matters of domestic and matrimonial comfort. The wife, as the story goes, was in the habit of calling her husband rather uncourteous names, and among others that of lousy rascal. This the husband endured for a time with tolerable equanimity—but at length his patience became exhausted, and he told his loving spouse that if she persisted in her abuse, and especially in that naughty trick of calling him "lousy rascal," he would take the law into his own hands and give her a good ducking. She still persisted, and the husband, regarding that little member, the tongue, as a fire which could be quelled only by water, tied a rope round the body of the weaker vessel, and undertook to curb her passion by letting her down into the well. She touched the water, but still persisted in calling her husband "lousy rascal." He let her down still further—she sent up the same vociferation: still further, even to the chin—she uttered a fainter, but yet audible cry of the same import: he soused her in all over—and, no longer able to speak, she stuck her thumbs up over her head, and CRACKED.