American Watchman And Delaware Advertiser

FOR THE WATCHMAN.

Without having any thing more remote from our intention, we have killed and buried poor McDonough or rather that kind votary of Morpheus, who, speaking of himself; modestly observed - "This is my first report of proceedings in this house. At some future day I may give you a second, a third, a fourth, a fifth, and, if well received, a continuation of reports on the most important matters which come before the representatives of the people to disturb my slumbers. Elevated as I have been in this room, over the members, I have had a good opportunity to see, and hear all that is said or done."

It was before the middle of winter - "sullen and sad" - at the close of a furiously stormy session of our legislature - a session the annals of which will long live, in the memory of the people of this county - that this promise was gratuitously made - and now "gentle" spring has half passed away, and this "elevated," and gallant champion - or leader, as the case may be - of the majority of the House of Representatives -- has permitted his pledge to rest unredeemed and his Elaboration No. 1 to remain - like the envied achievement of Single speech Hamilton - a monument of talent and modesty - the shrine at which unobtrusive merit may long offer up its fervent prayer, and breathe its secret aspiration.

But dead and buried did we say? So we could have sworn Sir Percey Shafton was; but our "rusticated Judiciary" was mistaken: - yet our knight of the quill, has not had the "affability" - like him of the "silver bodkin" - to appear again in proper persona: for by a sort of metempsychosis, he has passed himself into another form; and now appears among us good easy souls - "A Kent county Freeholder" If there be any truth, in what was held for such, by Pythagoras, of old, and his followers - who knows but the time may yet arrive - but long -- long - a thousand years may it be distant - when this our lower county opponent of our's, may become a right down honest democrat of Newcastle - to be beaten and driven, with whip and goad, by a red hot federalist of Sussex?

Perhaps, an admirer of lake scenery and history - and forgetting that his former namesake, McDonough, fought, from first to last, in his good ship the Saratoga - riddled as she was; but remembering that another illustrious hero, of our inland seas, shifted his flag, in the midst of battle, he has determined to pepper us off under a new signature.

Why has he chosen to overlook the circumstance that the immortal Perry, did something more than fire broad side No. 1., before he could tear himself away, from his favorite Lawrence? Did he leave her until she had lost every brace and bowline - till her whole crew was killed, or wounded — or before she lay an unmanageable wreck on the face of the waters? We had presumed to suppose that, with our adversary, the battle had not lasted long enough to do him much serious mischief - his running rigging, at least, was in good order - altho a chance shot, and, if so, a happy one for us - might have struck him between wind and water - … and may be, he thought he did not know but that the next might go through his powder magazine, and blow him up all at once. It is thought, to do him only common justice, to acknowledge that he is now endeavoring to make up for lost time - and it behoves us to take care of our own braces and bowlines. He has Perry's second ship the Niagara before his eyes. At least if he has not, we have.

He spreads, at first, a sweet tranquil surface to tempt us from the shore - anon he slips swiftly along - and then rushes furiously forward, to that mighty fall, adown which he precipitates only himself, sending up into the heavens, and spreading abroad, upon the face of God's earth, a heavier vapour, and denser fog, than ever bred in Boeotia of old, or even in our own lower counties, the "fever and ague." Poor luckless stream! thou hast called -- and called — but called in vain, for him "who fears no face of clay" -- to commit himself - like a sleeping or drunken indian in his canoe -- to thy treacherous bosom -- but he resembles not those silly geese and gulls whom thou sweepest delighted along, till it is too late to escape thy fall, in which they perish.

But our old adversary, in his clean bib and tucker - now ycleped the Kent county Freeholder, may implore us to lay aside our tropes and figures and to quit the land of fogs. That will not be so practicable while we are obliged to keep in the neighborhood, of that misty personage, and his benighted followers. It would have been wise, in those gentlemen, and their inconsiderate adherents, to have acquiesced in the policy recommended by the Delaware Gazette. We have a Second public proof that the authors of this tax - of the measure so oppressive to this county, and so vastly impolitic, in the dominant party - are now, like the waggoner in the fable -- not calling upon Hercules - but upon the editor of their journal to come out and help them. Suppose he was to come, at their bidding, like a spirit from the vasty deep. We should ask no better sport.

Let that press and its known immediate supporters, assume here -- among the people of this county - the attitude of defenders of this iniquitous measure, and we should soon see what would become of them, and their friends in the other counties. It was a policy equally weak and wicked that prompted the measure of this tax - and, like all such doings, it should be left to shift for itself. The indignation which might subside, after a while if it were left alone, is not likely to be allayed, by a course which adds bitter insult, to cruel injustice. The wrong complained of bears the sacred impress of law: and those who cannot help writhing, under torture, will endure a great deal, before they break out into excesses, which would only degrade them to the rank of their oppressors. Are we to understand that it is the policy of our opponents to goad us into resistance? Let this be but attempted and the people of Newcastle will be brothers to a man. Farewell! then - a long farewell! to all the honors of court house bells - to the delightful pleasure of huzzaing from house-tops and the ecstatic bliss, of shooting by files, at midnight, at poor democrat's doors. For our own part, we frankly confess we had laid down our pen. We called no one to the field - but when we saw a huge giant step out, in front of his men, and proudly challenge the whole host of Newcastle, we could not, for our lives, help searching, in our quiver, for our straightest arrow. We thought we had slain the boaster: but we were mistaken. He is up again: - he has but changed the colour of his bonnet and is again preparing for fight - and again calling out lustily for "Face of clay" to help him. "Face of clay" told him, at first setting out, it would not do. He said, then, he would fight it out by himself. The first trip he gets, he changes his favour - appears in a new part of the field - earnestly implores the aid of his potent ally. "Face of clay" tells him, still, it wont do. 'Well then, says he, I will make these christian dogs cry out

"there be six Richmonds in the field:

Five have I killed to day."

With our new friend "Kent County Freeholder" — alias our quondam friend "McDonough" we will commune further to morrow.

Q.