Posts Tagged ‘Whigs’

Thomas Chase: Last of Paul Jones’ Men

January 13, 2012

Image from the Revolutionary War and Beyond

The Last of Paul Jones’ Men.

To the Editor of the Whig & Courier:

During a recent visit to the County of Oxford, I found time to call on the venerable THOMAS CHASE, of Livermore, the last, probably, of Paul Jones’ men. Mr. Chase is now 88 years old, and, though the old hull is pretty much battered and decayed, his mind is clear, and his recollection of the stirring events of his youth, is distinct and vivid. He was born at Martha’s Vineyard; from which place he removed to L some fifty years ago, where he has since lived. He has ever enjoyed, and deservedly, the reputation of an industrious, intelligent, and thoroughly honest man. In fact, the name of “Uncle Chase” is the synonym of “honesty,” in the neighborhood where he lives.

He delights to tell the history of his early life — to relate the story of his numerous adventures and sufferings; but it is when he comes to speak of Paul Jones and his daring exploits — when he is describing, it may be, the engagement between the Richard and the Serapis, that his eye kindles and sparkles with unwonted brightness, and his voice, broken and almost inaudible before, becomes strong and clear, and he is ready to shoulder his crutch and show how ships were taken seventy years ago.

The outlines of his story, as near as I can recollect, are as follows: —

A Privateer came to the Vineyard in the early part of the Revolution, for the purpose of engaging a number of men to go out cruising on the coast. Chase, and about a dozen other young men joined them. After they had sailed they were, for the first time, informed that their destination was the coast of England. At this intelligence, they were a “good deal struck up,” though there were a few that were not displeased at the idea of going abroad, and among this number was Chase, who had a love of adulation and a strong desire to see foreign countries. —

They had not been long on the British coast before they discovered a British man-of-war, much too strong and powerful for them. As they were not noticed for sometime they had hopes of being able to escape, and tried to do so, — they were, however, seen, before they could get away, and were finally taken. In a few days the prisoners were put into another ship, and were shifted not less than three times in about four months. In one of the ships they suffered exceedingly — there were over 1400 souls, men, women, and children, Americans, French, &c. on board. The ship was dirty, the prisoners were dirty, sick and dying — large numbers died. At length the American prisoners were landed at Plymouth, and carried before two justices and a clerk and arraigned for treason. Witnesses were examined, and they were told that they would be committed to “Mill Prison,” on “suspicion of treason against his most Gracious Majesty, George the Third, and would there await their trial or His Majesty’s most Gracious pardon.” They were committed to this famous [or infamous] prison, and kept there twenty three months, during which time they underwent almost incredible privations and sufferings. At the end of twenty three months, (two years and a quarter after they were made prisoners) they were exchanged for British sea men and sent to France. They landed at a small town about ten miles below Nantes. Here they found a recruiting ship and were persuaded to enlist for the purpose of filling the crews required for the squadron, then fitting out at Le Orient, for John Paul Jones.

While at this place Mr. Chase very well recollects seeing John Adams on board the ship where he was. He was in his morning gown, walking the quarter deck when he saw him, and accompanied by his son, John Quincy Adams, then a boy some ten or twelve years old. Mr. Chase was one of the crew of the Alliance, Capt. Landais. His account of the celebrated engagement between the Bon Homme Richard, &c., the Serapis and Countess of Scarborough agrees in the main with that given by Mr. Cooper, though he differs with him in some respects. — He will not allow that the Alliance deserves all the left handed compliments paid to her by Mr. C. According to his account, it was the Alliance and not the Pallas, that disabled the Countess of Scarborough — that it was in consequence of the broadsides from the former that she struck — that the Pallas, coming up, rendered them valuable assistance, and was left in charge of the prize, while the Alliance went to the aid of Jones. And here, Mr. Chase says the Alliance also did good service — not to the enemy, as Mr. Cooper would have it, but to Jones.

When Jones sailed alongside of the Serapis, her commander hailed him — “who are you?’ Jones made no answer. The questions was repeated, “Who are you?” Tell me, or I’ll fire into you” “I will tell you when I get a little nearer!” roared Jones, in a voice that almost drowned the thunder of a simultaneous discharge of broadsides from the Richard and Serapis, which took place at that moment.

Chase was afterwards under Jones several months while he was in command of the Alliance, and became considerably acquainted with him. He was a man of great mechanical ingenuity, and an excellent worker of wood, and while at the Mill prison had beguiled many weary hours in whittling out some very curious wooden ladles, one of which he happened to have with him when Jones came to command the Alliance, and which so pleased Jones, that he gave him half a guinea for it for a punch ladle. He then employed him as a cabin joiner, and while in this capacity he saw a good deal of Jones, and had the vanity to believe he was quite a favorite.

Mr. Chase represents that Jones was liked by his own crew, but not generally by the crew of the Alliance. The crew of the Alliance were much attached to one of their Lieutenants, a Mr. Barkley of Boston, with whom Jones had a falling out, and who was sent below by Jones as the crew thought without sufficient cause. Jones tried to get him back, but he resolutely refused to stir without a Court Martial, Jones would not give him one and he did not go upon deck until Landais was reinstated.

He says Jones was a stern man — brave impetuous — a good man when the crew did well, but the devil if they did otherwise. He wanted everything done in its proper time and way, and everything in its place, and would have it. If his men did well, and took hold right he was kind and pleasant. He had a voice like a cannon, but which in ordinary conversation was rather thick and grum. He was of light complexion, and something, perhaps, below the medium stature. Chase speaks highly of his talents as a naval Commander, and says he always “liked Jones.”

En passant,]our friend is one of six revolutionary veterans (they are all Whigs,) now living in the fine old Whig town of Livermore. A year ago his son endeavored to persuade him to vote the anti-slavery ticket. “No, said he, “I was a Whig of ’76 — I am a Whig now — I have always been a Whig — I believe I shall die a Whig.”


Bangor Daily Whig and Courier (Bangor, Maine) Sep 19, 1843

The Expedition:

Richard “Dick” Swete’s goal was to find, and preserve, all of John Paul Jones’ ships. A historian and underwater archaeologist, he spent years researching Jones and the American Revolutionary naval battle between the HMS Serapis and the HMS Bon Homme Richard. Gathering a group of volunteers, his own modest income and a great deal of perseverance, Swete laid plans to find Serapis.

Find out more HERE

Why Despise the Name of Polk

October 24, 2011


Ah, why despise the name of Polk! —
A name that rhymes so well with folk,
That crowds may rally round this name,
and trust to Polk their country’s fame.
‘Tis a plant used by dames and swains,
To cure their fierce rheumatic pains;
If Uncle Sam is sore beset
Writhing with anguish, pain and debt,
(Worse than disease of joint or limb,)
Surely ’twill health restore to him.

‘Tis said the juice with care preserved,
To flush the cheek with bloom has served,
Since oft in pleasures idle maze,
Nature’s fresh bloom too soon decays.
Ye fair who wish the cheek’s bright glow,
On POLK your favor then bestow.
Surely such halcyon scenes ’twill raise,
As vieing with those fabled days —
The golden age — which poets sing,
New bloom to every cheek will bring.

A simple viand for the poor,
Is this same POLK, who asks for more?
If beauty, health, and food it give,
Let POLK in fame forever live.
When soaring high our eagle proud
Cleaves with its wing the thunder cloud,
In the same talon, bright and keen,
Where the green olive branch is seen,
The imperial bird the POLK shall bear,
High, through the azure field of air.

The Experiment (Norwalk, Ohio) Jul 31, 1844


I would, if I possessed the most valuable things in this world, and was about to give them away — I would give

Truth, to whig editors.
Merit, to whig candidates.
Common sense, to whig orators.
Justice, to Henry Clay.
Peace, to John Tyler.
The Presidency, to James K. Polk.
Infamy, to the Judge who sentenced Dorr.
Victory, to Democracy.
The spoils, to the victorious.
Salt River, to the Native Whigs.

The Experiment (Norwalk, Ohio) Jul 31, 1844

From the Globe.

Proud chieftain of democracy —
Lov’d leader of her faithful band! —
Oh! shall no harp resound for thee,
While through this wide-spread land,
From morn till night, a venal crowd, —
By hope of lucre basely won, —
Are worshipping with paeans loud,
A far less worthy son?

Yes! the proud duty shall be mine
To wake my humble harp, and raise
A tribute to a heart like thine;
For whom can camly gaze
Upon thee as thou truly art —
Thine every word and action scan —
And then not own thee, in his heart,
A good and honest man?

THINE eyes ne’er took the murderer’s aim,
As o’er the pistol’s tube they roll’d; —
THY hands ne’er plied the cunning game
To win thy neighbor’s gold; —
THY lips ne’er spake to ask God’s curse
Upon they fellow’s head to fall,
Nor o’pd with revellers to rehearse
Their tales of midnight brawl.

But pure in soul, and bright in mind,
With fearless front and step upright,
Thous standest forth amidst they kind,
A bright and shining light! —
And while one heart is left to fan
The flame on freedom’s altar rear’d,
Stern warrior for the rights of man,
Thy name will be rever’d!

The Republican Compiler (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Nov 18, 1844

The Convert’s Experience

October 21, 2011


The following song was composed and sung by JOSEPH MORGRIDGE, Esp. of Sangerville, at the Mass Convention recently held in this city, to the great delight of all present.

The Convert’s Experience.

To leave the dear Locos, and from them to part,
And risk their displeasure, affected my heart,
But yet I in truth, and all candor could say
‘Twas best to elect Frelinghuysen and Clay.

I followed my party through thick and through thin,
To the vortex of ruin, and almost fell in,
But now they no longer, shall lead me astray,
For I will support Frelinghuysen and Clay.

They promised me office, and offered me gold, —
And many a falsehood, to me, they have told,
To lead me along in their favorite way —
Afraid I would join Frelinghuysen and Clay. —

They told me Mechanics and Farmers would thrive
Free trade be extended, and commerce revive,
If they, awhile longer, in office could stay,
To put down the Whigs — Frelinghuysen and Clay.

They wished me to tarry, and not on them frown,
‘Till Polk was elected — the tariff put down;
But if, after that, I no longer would stay,
O, then I might join Frelinghuysen and Clay.

They promised the nation a currency sure,
To keep both together, the rich and the poor,
Down, down with the Banks, every Loco did say,
But never elect Frelinghuysen and Clay.

They told me their secret, I always must keep,
Or, like Morgan*, yet I, might have cause to weep,
But I heeded no threats, and turned from them away,
Resolved to support Frelinghuysen and Clay.

This promise, with others they gravely did make;
That I, of the spoils, should quite largely partake,
But I feared, they, like Tyler, their trust would betray,
So I left them, to join Frelinghuysen and Clay.

Thus all their exertions, my mind to deceive,
Were fruitless and vain; for I could but believe,
That I should have cause, to be proud of the day,
That I left them, to join Frelinghuysen and Clay.

Free trade, Polk and Dallas, I will not go for,
To pay debts for Texas, and buy our her war,
But I’ll work, and I’ll sing, and proudly I’ll say:
I helped to elect Frelinghuysen and Clay.

Let profligate Rulers, be swept by the board;
Our nation, once more, to good health be restored,
And I never will turn for one moment away
From freedom’s true friends — Frelinghuysen and Clay.

The sound of rejoicing is heard on the gale,
The Whigs are triumphant — the Locos look pale,
Their faces grow long, as the field they survey,
Nobly won by the Whigs, Frelinghuysen and Clay.

*The Anti-Mason.

Bangor Daily Whig and Courier (Bangor, Maine) Aug 27, 1844


The flag born by the Whigs from Bluehill had the following inscription.



Our country and our country’s cause
Our constitution and our laws
Fro these we hope, for these we pray
For these we’ll vote for Henry Clay.

Bangor Daily Whig and Courier (Bangor, Maine) Aug 27, 1844

Songs for Henry Clay

October 19, 2011

Image from Elektratig blog

The Workingmen’s Song.

Times won’t be right its plain to see,
Till Tyler runs his race,
But then we’ll have a better man
To put into his place;
For now we’ll rouse with might and main,
And work, and work, away;
We’ll work, and work, and work, and work,
And put in HENRY CLAY,


For now we’ll rouse with might and main,
And work, and work away;
We’ll work, and work, and work, and work,
and put in HENRY CLAY.

The Farmers want good times again
To sell their wheat and pork,
And so to put in HENRY CLAY,
They’re going right to work;
They’ll plough, and sow, and reap, and mow,
And thresh, and thresh away;
They’ll thresh, and thresh, and thresh, and thresh,
And vote for HENRY CLAY,
They’ll plough and sow, etc., etc.

The Laboring Men they want more work
And higher wages too,
And so they’ll go for HENRY CLAY,
With better times in view;
They’ll saw, and chop, and grub, and dig,
And shovel, and shovel away;
And shovel, and shovel, and shovel, and shovel,
And vote for HENRY CLAY,
They’ll saw, and chop, etc., etc.

The Weavers too will go to work,
They’ll make us all the Cloth we want,
If they can have fair play;
They’ll reel, and spool, and warp, and wind,
And weave, and weave away;
They’ll weave, and weave, and weave, and weave,
And vote for HENRY CLAY,
They’ll reel and spool, etc., etc.

We want no Clothing Ready made,
From England or from France;
We’ve Tailors here who know their trade,
They ought to have a chance;
They’ll cut, and baste, and hem, and press,
And stitch, and stitch away;
They’ll stitch, and stitch, and stitch, and stitch,
And vote for HENRY CLAY,
They’ll cut and baste, etc., etc.

The Coopers know  when Farmers thrive,
Their trade is always best,
And so they’ll go with one accord
For Harry of the West.
They’ll dress, and raise, and truss, and hoop,
And hoop, and hoop away;
They’ll hoop, and hoop, and hoop, and hoop,
And vote for HENRY CLAY,
They’ll dress, and raise, etc., etc.

The Hatters do not want to see
Their kettles standing dry,
And so they’ll go for HENRY CLAY,
And then the Fur will fly,
They’ll nap, and block, and color, and bind,
And finish, and finish away;
They’ll finish, and finish, and finish, and finish,
And vote for HENRY CLAY,
They’ll nap and block, etc., etc.

Shoemakers too, with a right good will,
Will join the working throng,
And what they do for HENRY CLAY,
They’ll do both neat and strong;
They’ll cut, and crimp, and last, and stitch,
And peg and ball away —
They’ll ball, and ball, and ball, and ball,
And vote for HENRY CLAY,
They’ll cut and crimp, etc., etc.

The Blacksmiths too ‘ll roll up their sleeves,
Their sledges they wilt swing,
And at the name of HENRY CLAY,
They’ll make their anvils ring,
They’ll blow, and strike, and forge, and weld,
And hammer, and hammer away;
They’ll hammer, & hammer, & hammer & hammer,
And vote for HENRY CLAY,
They’ll blow, and strike, etc., etc.

The Tanners too will lend a hand,
When skinning time begins;
They are a hardy noble band,
And live by tanning skins;
They’ll bait the Softs, and break the Hards,
And flesh and curry away;
They’ll curry, and curry, and curry, and curry,
And vote for HENRY CLAY,
They’ll bait the softs, etc., etc.

The Potters too are all for CLAY,
For ’tis in CLAY they work;
And all they want is ready pay,
To buy their bread and pork;
They’ll glaze their pots and fire their kilns,
And burn, and burn away —
They’ll burn, and burn, and burn, and burn,
To vote for HENRY CLAY.

The Carpenters, a noble band,
Will then have work to do —
New Barns and Houses through the land,
They’ll raise both strong and new —
They’ll line and score, and scribe and bore,
And brace and build away —
And build, and build, and build, and build,
And vote for HENRY CLAY,
They’ll line and score, etc., etc.

And thus we’ll work, and thus we’ll sing,
Till Tyler’s race is run;
And then we’ll have to fill his place,
Kentucky’s favorite son;
For now we’ll rouse with might and main,
And work, and work away;
We’ll work, and work, and work, and work,
And put in HENRY CLAY,
For now we’ll rouse, etc., etc.

The Ohio Repository (Canton, Ohio) Mar 7, 1844

For the Ohio Repository.

Our Harry Is Coming.
Air — “The Campbels are Coming.

Our Harry is coming, oh Matty beware!
Our Harry is coming, oh Locos take care!
Our Harry is coming, the gallant and free,
He’s coming, he’s coming, oh Matty beware!

Columbia’s shout of ecstacy,
The glorious shouts ring far and free;
Thundering abroad — sublime if rude,
A Nation’s noble gratitude,
Our Harry is coming, &c.

He comes — but in pacific pride;
No battle-band begirts his side,
No hoarse war-drum booms on the wind —
But all is peace and love combined,
Our Harry is coming, &c.

He comes the sacred oath to swear,
Then seated in that awful chair;
Higher than throne, — like Washington —
The laurels on his brow he’s won,
Our Harry is coming, &c.

Our Country’s sav’d — new honors lent,
When CLAY, the People’s President,
Will then to right the helm of state,
And the Republic renovate.
Our Harry is coming, &c.

Canton, March, 1844.   AMELLS.

The Ohio Repository (Canton, Ohio) Mar 14, 1844

The Mill Boy of the Slashes.
Tune — ‘Washing Day,’ or ‘Lucy Long.’

Cheer up, my lads, we’re on the way,
Press onward for the prize;
For at the name of HENRY CLAY,
What glorious hopes arise.

Then hast the day, then clear the way,
As on our hero dashes;
Away! Away! for HARRY CLAY,
“The Mill Boy of the Slashes.”

From East to West — from North to South,
The mails bring cheering news;
The Softs are all down in the mouth;
The Hards have got the blues.

Then haste the day, etc.

Look out, my boys, the Locos know
That truth with  us is found;
and yet with lies they try to show,
That they are gaining ground;

Then hast the day, etc.

Our foes with wonder and with shame,
Now on their forces call;
Then spread abroad our leader’s fame,
Let cliques and cabals fall.

Then haste the day, etc.

The nation’s hope is on him set;
His name’s on every tongue;
Around the land in councils met,
His noble deeds are sung.

Then haste the day, etc.

These stubborn Lokies feel the rod;
Van Buren’s in a fright,
And poor Hard money crawfish To?,
Had rather run than fight.

Then haste the day, etc.

The Ohio Repository (Canton, Ohio) Apr 11, 1844

Ex-Speaker Polk of Tennessee.
TUNE — Dandy Jim of Caroline

Come listen Whigs and Locos all,
Your kind attention here I call,
And mark the burthen of the glee,
Ex-Speaker Polk of Tennessee —
But hark! the People rising say,
He’s not the man to conquer Clay,
This is the substance of their rhyme,
“Clay first, Clay last, Clay all the time.”

Polk’s choice occasioned some surprise,
Good Democrats rolled up their eyes,
Our Candidate, pary, who is he?
Why James *R. Polk of Tennessee —
But hark! &c.

But soon their vast excitement o’er,
They see, what ne’er was seen before,
The best selection that could be,
Ex-Speaker Polk of Tennessee —
But hark! &c.

And then commences nous verrons
To make enthusiasm strong,
Uphold; ye Loco clique, says he,
Ex-Speaker Polk of Tennessee —
But hark! &c.

Fall down before a better man
Than even little Matty Van,
Buchanan too must bow the knee
To Ex-Speaker Polk of Tennessee —
But hark! &c.

Now, not content with this display,
They steal John Tyler’s protege,
Annexing Texas, as you see,
To James K. Polk of Tennessee —
But hark! &c.

Though now a Champion of Free Trade,
Once pon a time a vote you made,
To tax our coffee and our tea,
Ex-Speaker Polk of Tennessee —
But hark! &c.

When last you took the field with Jones,
You heard the People’s angry tones,
A more indignant note you’ll hear,
Before November’s ides appear —
For hark! the People rising say,
Their highest hope is Harry Clay,
This is the substance of their rhyme,
“Clay first, Clay last, Clay all the time.”


*So was the name blazoned on the Loco Foco banners when first announced.

Bangor Daily Whig and Courier (Bangor, Maine) Jun 20, 1844

Something Rich — Truth by Accident.

Locofocoism does not seem to florish well in poetry, as the muses have been so long engaged in the worthy and truthful cause of the patriotic Whigs, that when compelled to do service for Locofocoism will indirectly sift in the truth. —

We were greatly amused last evening in looking over a song in the Democrat, that will be generally circulated this morning. We hope our friends will secure a copy as a poetical and political curiosity. It is decidedly rich, and we think the editor of the Democrat must have had no little grass in his boots to have admitted the truth telling little witch!

Here is the song and the reader will please read the italicised letters first.

For the Democrat.

TUNE. — Old Rosin the Bow.

Come all ye young Hickories rally!
Let’s shoulder to shoulder unite,
Against the coon forces we’ll sally,
Young Hickory” leads in the fight.


Young Hickory leads in the fight, (Repeat.)
Against the coon forces we’ll rally,
“Young Hickory” leads in the fight.

We’ll raise up our Hickory poles, hearties,
In Honor of Tennessee’s son,
Let us show him that firmly each heart is
Leagued together to use up the coon,


Leagued together to use up the coon, (repeat)
Let us show him that each heart is
Leagued together to use up the coon.

The feds of their strength loud and bragging,
Renewing of ’40 the trash,
In November the coons we’ll be flogging,
Until he shall fly from the lash.


Mark his hide with each blow that you deal him
Place the licks on his carcase with skill,
Hurrah! then, e’en “Huysen” can’t heal him,
Amen, with a hearty good will.

Polk and Dallas inscribed on our banners,
Shall to victory marshal our way;
Be up then — let feds shout hozannas,
Defeated they’ll be with their Clay.


Bangor Daily Whig and Courier (Bangor, Maine) Jun 25, 1844

Image from the National Archives website

From the Whig Standard.


In the times of the Revolution;
While yet the land was young;
Heavy the lot of the hardy few,
But the will was stout and strong,
Of those who fought with Washington;
On their fields of fame they died,
All true men, like you men,
Remember them with pride.

At daybreak at old Trenton,
On Monmouth’s sandy plain,
In the swamp of the Yellow Santeo,
On the waves of old Champlain,
Fought the Whigs of the Resolution,
With hearts unchanging still,
And we men — if free men —
So must we fight — we will!

and some of these remain, boys!
Through all that sturdy storm,
Bent, and worn out, and aged,
But hearts still young and warm;
They should know what are true principles,
These men with locks of gray,
They are few men — but true men —
And they vote with us for Clay.

Honor unto the aged,
The old true-hearted brave!
Theirs be a free and pleasant death,
And a free and quiet grave;
And still we’ll protect the principles
For which they toiled so long,
The Whigs of the Revolution
Who fought when the land was young.

From the Whig Standard.

TUNE — Yankee Doodle.

The Locos met at Baltimore,
To make their nominations,
With tempers sour’d, and feeling sore,
And humbled expectations.
But Locofocos keep it up,
Heed not the Whig’s rejoicing,
Don’t yield the day to HENRY CLAY

They felt that VAN, was not the man,
To lead them on to glory,
And should they pass, to LEWIS CASS,
‘Twould end in the same story.
But Locofocos keep it up, &c., &c.

JOHNSON they knew, would never do,
BUCHANAN’s chance was small, sir,
They fear’d each vote, would but denote,
They’d make no choice at all, sir.
But Locofocos keep it up, &c., &c.

Though this they fear’d, they persevered,
Seven times the vote was taken!
On the eighth, for a joke, they started POLK,
Hoping to save their bacon;
Then Locofocos keep it up, &c., &c.

JOHNSON withdrew, BUCHANAN too,
VAN BUREN flew the track, sir,
All own they’re beat, POLK wins the heat,
Though a fourth rate party hack, sir,
But Locofocos keep it up &c.

The Loco’s now were run aground,
To find another man, as
Weak as POLK, but at last they found
His match in GEORGE M. DALLAS,
Then Locofocos keep it up, &c.

Then for POLK and DALLAS go it strong,
Each Locofoco hearty,
With guns, and drums, and noise, and song,
Let’s cheer our drooping party,
Ye Locofocos keep it up, &c.

We’ve done our best pray be content,
We’ve made a nomination,
And POLK and DALLAS we present
For the people’s acceptation.
Then Locofocos keep it up, &c.

John Jones says TYLER was by law
The “second: nominated,
That POLK, being third, he must ‘withdraw,’
‘Or the party’ll be defeated.’
John Jones and Tyler keep it up, &c.

The people thank you, gentlemen,
But its far from their intentions,
To vote for the third and fourth rate men
You’ve named in your conventions!
For loud and long, like thunder strong,
The people’s voice is rising,
And ’twill be given before High Heaven,

South Port American (South Port, Wisconsin) Jun 29, 1844

From the New York Tribune.


He wears no crown upon that brow which gleams in Freedom’s van,
Where every god has set his seal to show the world a man;
Nor bears he in his trusty hand the warrior’s spear and glaive,
Whose harvests are the falling ranks that burden ruin’s grave.

But prouder than the proudest king, whose million vassals bow,
He wears the wreath a Nation’s hand has twined upon his brow;
And peerless o’er his fallen foes with flaming plume and crest,
He shines among a Nation’s stars the brightest and the best.

His name is not a sculptured thing, where old Renown has reared
Her marble in the wilderness, by smoke of battle seared;
But graven on life-leaping hearts where Freedom’s banners wave,
It gleams to bid the tyrant back, and loose the fettered slave.

His deeds are not of blood and wrong, where ruth, with iron hand,
Has yoked the stormy steeds of War, to desolate the land —
But ever in the hour of need, when Danger’s summons came,
He lent the thunder of his word, the halo of his name!

Around the hearths and altars where his country’s gods are shrined,
His heart has yearned for Freedom’s weal, with Freedom’s toil his mind;
And when from other lands oppressed the captive’s wail has rung,
His soul went forth in Freedom’s strength, with Freedom’s fire his tongue.

Above the altar’s of the Greek, and o’er Bolivia’s fane,
His name, “Deliverer,” is stampt upon the broken chain.
And from those old and glorious isles that gem the AEgean sea,
The sons of Spartans hail in song the Champion of the Free.

And now, when age in on his heart, and dimness in his eye,
He wanes not with the fitful lights that darken in the sky,
But prouder still in name and fame, with flaming plume and crest,
He shines among a Nation’s stars the brightest and the best!


Huron Reflector ( Norwalk, Ohio) Sep 4, 1849

Political Fruit

January 26, 2011

Image from Elektratig.

“The Fruit.”

After a year and a half of Locofoco rule, the people of this state can begin to judge the “tree” by the “fruit” it bears. The Madison Express thus classifies it:

State credit is thirty per cent, below par!

The state debt is nearly fifty thousand dollars!

The state tax is so levied as to raise one hundred thousand dollars!

Such a thing as public faith is unknown!

The state has repudiated its solemn contracts!

It has repudiated its own paper, refusing to allow county treasurers to receive it in payment of taxes!

The constitution has been repeatedly trampled upon — oaths of office violated, and laws discarded!

Is it not time for honest men of all parties to “awake and save the state?” What reliance have the people for the future? What guarantee against further outrage?

Honest voters of all parties! to the polls!

Let your votes speak in thunder tones in rebuke of the present foul and corrupt dynasty!

Watertown Chronicle (Watertown, Wisconsin) Oct 24, 1849

Image from Son of the South.

Locofoco Defalcations.

While the Locofocos are assailing Gen. Taylor and the Whig party so bitterly, it may be well enough to remind them of their own delinquencies occasionally, in times past as well as present, by referring to the history of their corrupt practices, and to refresh the recollections of the people upon these matters, that they may see with what grace the president can be arraigned for fraud by such men. For this purpose we publish below a partial list of moneys stolen in the pure days of the “Democracy” by Locofoco office holders. We are not able to do our sanctimonious and censorious friends justice, as we have not a complete list of these public robbers, nor of the amount stolen. But we have enough to show the public with what indecent presumption, charges against Gen. Taylor and the Whig party, come from a party whose chosen agents have been guilty of such enormities as the following array of names and figures are “premonitory symptoms” of:

This amount, “respectable” as it is, does not include the sums stolen by Harris and Boyd, a couple of gentlemen who carried operations on as large a scale as any of their colleagues in rascality. But the pretty little sum of THREE MILLIONS ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS will answer the object we have view, so far as the old Locofoco plunders are concerned. The annexed list will show that Locofocoism now is just what it was ten or twelve years ago. If they had stopped their peculations upon the public treasury after having abstracted these three millions of dollars and upwards, they would have given some evidence of a disposition to reform; and we would not have been disposed to “invade the sanctity of private life,” — as old father Ritchie styles these references to Locofoco defaulters — be calling public attention to them. But when we see them at their old game again, and witness their furious personal attacks upon one of the purest minded men that ever filled the presidential chair, we cannot help holding the mirror up to their faces, that they may “see themselves as others see them.” We will now annex their recent “financial operations,” in the way of leg treasuryism. All will admit that they bid fair to do honor to their illustrious predecessors.

But it is said that there is yet in the hands of Locofoco ex-land officers, not yet accounted for, nearly a MILLION OF DOLLARS belonging to the government. This may all be honestly paid over, or it may all or one half be stolen. Time only will determine which. At any rate, the people have been robbed of nearly or quite HALF A MILLION DOLLARS, under the beautiful operations of the sub treasury law. If six months have brought to light that large sum, it can easily be ciphered out what four years will reveal. According to our arithmetic, it cannot be less than four millions of dollars.

But we will wait awhile and see.

[Auburn Daily Adv.

Watertown Chronicle (Watertown, Wisconsin) Oct 10, 1849

Image from Legends of America.

Illinois — Locofoco “Fruits.”

Thus speaks the Chicago Democrat, the editor of which, “Long JOHN WENTWORTH,” a “Democratic” member of congress, will be taken as good authority in the premises:

“Our state is bankrupt. As to her principal, she makes no pretensions. She cannot, even, pay her interest. And the larger the state, the greater the resources, the more numerous her population, the greater her disgrace in not paying her state debts.”

With the exception of a year or two, Illinois has been under the control of the “Democratic” party from the time of its origination as a state, and, for its population, has usually given that party a stronger vote than any other western state. There, Locofocoism has had full, undisputed sway. With barely sufficient opposition to keep the party together, it has gone on from one destructive measure to another, until now, according to the confession of one of its “sachems,” the state is not only bankrupt, but is even unable to pay the interest of her indebtedness! And this, too, while she possesses a soil and climate equal to any in the world, an industrious agricultural population, and natural and artificial commercial advantages superior to most of the other western states!

What is it that has inflicted so severe a curse upon our sister state, and already made her a “by-word and a reproach?” There can be but one answer — UNCONTROLLED LOCOFOCO LEGISLATION! Locofocoism is the gangrene which has been for years eating to her very vitals. And so long as she remains the patient of “quack doctors,” so long will the disease continue to grow worse and worse. Her only salvation depends upon the use of the great Whig specific. Where is there to be found a Whig state with a bankrupt treasury? Where one which does not “flourish as a green bay tree?”

The same causes which have worked so much mischief in Illinois are producing like efforts in Wisconsin. Already has our expenditures greatly and unnecessarily increased, our taxes doubled, our treasury plundered, our legislative sessions uselessly protracted, our constitution trampled under foot, our public interests trifled with, our good name tarnished, and our growth and development as a state seriously retarded. Is it not time for our people to pause and reflect? Why will they longer jeopard everything essential to the real interests of the state, for the mere honor of placing political impostors in power?

Watertown Chronicle (Watertown, Wisconsin) Oct 10, 1849

Don’t Waste Your Powder, Gentlemen

June 8, 2010


The Whig party, by the help of the Almighty, has been totally defeated. Its end has come, and a grave stone may be spoken for it without any danger of loss. Why then should our members of Congress pour their heavy fire upon a dismasted — a blazing and sinking ship.

On the morning of March 4, 1841, the Whig frigate, with her sails swelling gracefully from royal to ring-tail, rode in majesty on her ocean way. Her hull was newly painted — her rigging nicely fitted — her decks were crowded with men — and her quarter deck was full of officers.

The Democracy stood upon the decks of their weather-beaten cruizer to look at her, and all seemed to unite in the opinion that she would perform a four years voyage in safety; but suddenly a tempest came, a thunderbolt splintered her mizen-mast, rent her flag to tatters, and killed her commander.

Then came upon the ear of the listener the heavy roar of the alarm gun and cry of sorrow.

A hurricane followed the thunder — sail after sail was rent to pieces — spar after spar came toppling down with the look-outs and the top-men — seaman after seaman pitched overboard, and floated to the Democratic cruiser, whose commander had watched for the squall, and had taken in sail. Louder and louder howled the wind. The rudder was wrenched from its fastenings, and the ship dashed on at the mercy of the contending elements.

The first Lieutenant had taken command, and the trumpet was in his hand. A cry of fire now spread through the ship; and then, while the wreck was blazing, the crew mutined. The pursers strong box was robbed — his books were burned to wipe out all debts — dreadful curses rang upon the night wind, and echoed along the deep.

And hark! what noise is that? It is a gun from the rival frigate — again it peals, and again all eyes are turned towards the sound. It is the cruizer under storm stay-sails beating to windward; and now behold, she pours a broadside into the blazing frigate — despair sits at the magazine and death by the bread room.

The ship of the Whig party is doomed, and her memory even will soon be blotted out forever.

Save your powder then gentlemen.

Why don’t you save your powder?

[Alex. Index.

The Experiment (Norwalk, Ohio) Apr 27, 1842

Note: Spelling differences/errors were in the original article.


The following is from Wikipedia:

1842 Election Results From Wikipedia

The U.S. House election, 1842 was an election for the United States House of Representatives in 1842.

Just one election cycle after the Whig Party gained control of Congress, they lost their majority. Whig president William Henry Harrison died within a month of taking office and his successor, John Tyler, was disliked by members of both parties. Tyler’s widespread unpopularity lead to an enormous defeat for his party, and the Whigs lost 70 seats, giving the Democrats a majority. With the economy rebounding, rural voters also chose the Democratic ticket to turn away from Whig policies of economic nationalism. The Law and Order Party, formed in response to the Dorr Rebellion in Rhode Island also took seats.

Become the ‘Life Guards’ of Your Country!

March 30, 2010


“Harrison is a Federalist.” — Just what might be expected of the disciple of Jefferson.

“Harrison is a Coward and a Granny.” — What else could we expect the favorite pupil of that old Coward and Granny, Wayne, to be.

“Harrison was beaten at Tippecanoe.” — Yes, and the Indians ran away and killed themselves in a frolic.

“Harrison was not at the Battle of the Thames.” — Just so, and Proctor surrendered to a ghost.

“Harrison lives in a log cabin, and should be called the Log-Cabin Candidate.” — Fool that he was, not to take, when he had the opportunity, enough of the people’s money to build a fine house, and live RESPECTABLY in his old age. No Tory would have been so silly.

“Harrison, while he lived in Cincinnati, begat three Indian children at Prairie du Chien.” — Rather an unusual feat for a Granny. He must have gone as far and as often “a courtin” as the Ohio Fund Commissioners went “to raise the wind;” and he must have been more successful.

“Who ever heard of Harrison? Who is he?”

Of him, Col. Johnson, (Vice President) thus spoke in the House of Representatives whilst a member of that body:

“Of the career of Gen. Harrison I need not speak — the history of the West is his history. For forty years he has been identified with its interests, its perils, and its hopes.

Universally beloved in the walks of peace, and distinguished by his ability in the councils of his country, he has been yet more illustriously distinguished in the field. During the late war, he was longer in actual service than any other General Officer; he was, perhaps, oftener in action than any one of them, and never sustained a defeat.

But the Whigs must not quote him any more, for the Tories mean to cast him off. — His name is disagreeable to the British, with whom the Tories are in great feathers.

“Harrison abused Maj. Croghan.” It is true that Croghan said he did not; but then Croghan was a coward, and dared not resent ill-treatment from his superior officer.

We have not room for any more of these pretty things this week; but we intend to keep our readers informed of all the slanders that the malignity of the Tories prompt them to publish against the Father of the West.

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Feb 4, 1840

An Eloquent Record.

WILLIAM H. HARRISON was born in Virginia on the 9th February, 1773.

In 1791, when 19 years of age, he was appointed by Washington an Ensign in our infant army.

In 1792, he was promoted to the rank of Lieutenant; and in 1793, joined the legion under Gen. Wayne; and in a few days thereafter, was selected by him as one of his aids.

On the 24th of August, 1794, he distinguished himself in the battle of the Miami, and elicited the most flattering written approbation of Gen. Wayne.

In 1795, he was made a Captain, and placed in the command of Fort Washington.

In 1797, he was appointed by President Adams, Secretary of the North Western Territory and ex officio Lt. Governor.

In 1798, he was chosen a delegate to Congress.

In 1801, he was appointed Governor of Indiana, and in the same year, President Jefferson appointed him sole commissioner for treating with the Indians.

In 1809, he was re-appointed Governor of Indiana by Madison.

On the 7th Nov. 1811, he gained the great victory of TIPPECANOE.

On the 11th September, 1812, he was appointed by Madison Commander-in-chief of the North Western Army.

On the 1st May, 1812, the siege of Fort Meigs commenced; lasted five days, and was terminated by the brilliant and successful sortie of Gen. Harrison.

On the 31st July, 1812, the battle of Fort Stephenson occurred.

On the 5th October, 1813, he gained the splendid victory of the THAMES, over the British and Indians under Proctor.

In 1814, he was appointed by Madison one of the Commissioners to treat with the Indians, and in the same year, with his colleagues, Gov. Shelby and General Cass, concluded the celebrated treaty of Greenville.

In 1815, he was again appointed such Commissioner, with Gen. M’Arthur and Mr. Graham, and negotiated a treaty at Detroit.

In 1816, he was elected a member of Congress.

In January, 1818, he introduced a resolution in honor of Kosciusko, and supported it in one of the most feeling, classical, and eloquent speeches ever delivered in the House of Representatives.

In 1819, he was elected Senator in Congress, and was appointed, in 1825, Chairman of the Military Committee in place of Gen. Jackson who had resigned.

In 1827, he was appointed Minister to Columbia, and in 1829, wrote his immortal letter to Bolivar, the deliverer of South America.

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Feb 4, 1840

Another Tory Compliment to General HARRISON.

“Harrison, while a member of the Senate of Ohio, voted to sell poor white men into slavery.” — that is, he voted to have men who were convicted of small crimes, and of whom the costs of conviction could not otherwise be collected, compelled to WORK them out. — What a monster! If such were the law, the sufferings of jail-birds would be intolerable. Instead of spending a few weeks in jail, with a plenty to eat and nothing to do, they would have to work to pay the expense of their punishment. Why! thieves and leg-treasurers should all rise as one man and oppose Harrison for that vote!

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Feb 11, 1840

Valley Forge (Image from


The Newburgh Gazette brings us the following eloquent letter from the last of the “Life Guards of Gen. Washington.” Let the freemen of America heed the honest warning of this venerable patriot. Let all who are able to enlist for the war adopt the advice of this aged veteran, and enroll themselves as the Life guards of the country. —Alb. Adv.

To the Descendants of Revolutionary Soldiers:

An old soldier of the Continental Army asks for the last time to speak to his countrymen. During the suffering services of the Revolution I was in sixteen engagements, and was one of the little band who volunteered under Sullivan to destroy the “Six Nations of Indians.” I was one of that small company selected as the Life Guard of Gen. Washington — but two of us are now living. I was at the tough siege of Yorktown, at Valley Forge, Monmouth, and in thirteen other hard battles, and saw Cornwallis surrender to our old General. My service ceased only with the war.

After all this hardship and suffering, in the street when I go out in my old age to see the happiness I have helped to give you, I am pointed at as a British Tory — yes, a British Tory — I have said nothing when I have been told so, but have silently thought that my old General would never have picked out a Tory to form one of his Life Guard, nor would a Tory have suffered what I suffered for you. This abuse has been shamefully heaped upon one of your old soldiers because he is what he was when the war broke out, and what Washington told us we must always be when he shook HANDS with us as we all were going home.

I was a Whig in the Revolution, and have been one ever since, and am one now. As a Whig I enlisted for the whole WAR was in favor with the other whigs of Thomas Jefferson, went with the party for James Madison, was in favor of the last war, and to be consistent in my last vote, must give it for Gen. Harrison. He is a brave man, and was never known wherever he has been to take a penny from his neghbor or the Government, that was not fairly his own. — We have trod over the same ground fighting for liberty. His father, 9he was one of us in the Revolution) signed our Independence roll, and then we all went out together to fight for it, and we proved it was true.

It really appears to me that this cannot be the same government that our old soldiers helped Washington to put up here. We fought to have a government as different from any in Europe as we could make it. — Well, we done it, and until lately things have gone on smoothly and Europe was beginning to get ashamed of the way she made slaves of her subjects by making them work and toil for seven poor cents a day with a Standing Army over them to force them to it. But our President now tells the people that things have gone wrong since the Old War and that there are twenty-two miserable Governments in Europe where the Kings wear crowns, the rich people wear silks, and the poor people rags, that we must fashion after them if we want to be happy and prosperous! —

We had English laws here once and they were the best in Europe, but we could’nt stand them and we put them under our feet. We used to work for mere nothing then, and we cannot do it again. Working for a few cents a day may do for slaves, but not for freemen whose liberty cost more blood, than liberty ever cost before, why, the very first thing that started the old war, was the Standing Army, that the King kept quartered upon us, we told him that we wanted no soldiers over us in time of peace, but he refused to mind us, and I saw Lord Cornwallis surrender up a part of them to honest George Washington. Our President now proposes to have a standing force — what for? — Beware.

Thom’s Jefferson never asked for armed men to re-elect him, or elevate his successor. James Madison asked for them only, in the time of the late war, and warned the people when he left his office, to be careful about keeping soldiers in time of peace.

Our streets are filled with idle men who were active laborers once, when employment was to be had. The men of enterprise who once employed them have been ruined by government. And now these honest, but unemployed laborers are told by the government, that when they go to work again, they must do it for a few cents a day — that labor must be as cheap here, as it is among the slaves of Cuba, or the slaves of Europe. Ambition and ignorance on the part of our Government have shut up our shops and stores, scuttled our ships, filled our streets with idleness and bankruptcy, and given no encouragement to the farmer as he looks at his grain. Are not these things so?

You know they are, and I have no motive in saying what may be false — I am too far advanced for office, or any thing else but death — it will soon be here. — My little pension, and I thank you for it, will soon stop, and I go home with the rest of the Life Guards. —

There is but one remedy only for the safety of the country I have saved. Put other men to stand at the tiller, and round the cables, and you will soon be back on the old Constitutional track. Gen. Harrison is honest, he never deceived you, and he never lost a battle, and the People wont let him lose this. Accept my advice, and you all have my blessing — my advice is, that all of you become the Life Guards of your country, and my blessing is that your old age may have less fears for liberty than mine.

One of the two surviving Life Guards of George Washington.

NEWBURGH, N.Y. Aug. 28, 1840.

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Oct 6, 1840

Nathan Hale

From the Newburgh New York Telegraph.
Gratitude, Gallantry and Feeling.

To record the incidents connected with the “old soldiers” of Washington — those few falling leaves of the tree of the revolution — is ever pleasing. But few of them remain. In a few brief years, the “last soldier of the revolution” will have died.

The following little incident, interesting and touching in its way, occurred here last week during the visit of that highly disciplined and soldier-like corps, the National Greys, of New York city.

One of their numerous marches, in the neighbourhood of our village, to receive the well-deserved hospitality of our citizens, was to Ettrick Grove, the beautiful seat of Mr. Hale, a mile below the village, taking in their way “Washington’s Head Quarters,” to which the company wished to pay a last visit before departure. The entire march was over consecrated ground. — Washington himself had known and traversed every foot of it — in the neighbourhood was the ground where the army was stationed, and in the ravine below, was the revolutionary cannon foundry, traces of which are still visible.

These were all pointed out, as also the remaining portion of the house (now Mr. Hale‘s kitchen) to which Washington was invited to an entertainment, in order to his betrayal by a band of conspirators against his life and his country’s hopes. These several reminiscences had each its interest; but the crowning incident of the march, and the one likely to live long in recollection was this:

On the outward march of the company, at a little distance in advance in the porch of a cottage, was observed the bowed and bleached head and wasted form of one of those immortals on earth, who shared the toils of war with Washington — it was BENJAMIN EATON, the last but one (Robert Blair, also of this village,) of Washington’s Life Guard.

The fact being announced to the officers of the corps, they eagerly advanced, in person, while the company uncovered, and thus all testified, in passing, their respect for the noble old Roman. On their return, the old soldier was escorted out, supported on either side by the Captain and Lieutenant, and the corps passed in review before him, uncovered, and with as profound respect and nice observance of military order as the old soldier in other days would have passed in review before his venerated Washington.

He was then escorted to the front and introduced personally to each member of the corps — and as each seized him by the hand and uttered the heart-felt “God bless you, General,” the gathering tear in the eye of each young soldier told the glow of gratitude and patriotism enkindled in his bosom. It was a moment and a scene to excite deep feeling. The eye of the veteran, dimmed by age, brightened again with pride and joy. The scenes and the forms of other days seemed reanimated and again brought to his view. But it was a transient vision, and came but for a moment to gladden the veteran’s heart.

Recollection but too soon recalled the realities of the present; and he was heard to murmur, “Alas! I have lived to be useless to myself and to the world!”

He told them, however, as a parting advice of an old soldier, to “remember their Great Commander.” He said he had been present in sixteen battles of the Revolution, and amid the dangers of them all had sought aid from above in prayer for himself, his country and his companions; and was himself a living witness, with the frosts of eighty-two winters upon his head, that these prayers were not in vain.

Benjamin Eaton has seen much service, and his country owes him much. He was in the battles and shared the dangers of Lexington, Monmouth, Flatbush, Brandywine, Harlaem Heights, &c., and served under the gallant Sullivan, in 1779, in his expedition against the “Six Nations” of Indians. Poor in every thing but spirit and merit, he has lived for years upon that evidence of coldest ingratitude — a pension of ninety-six dollars!!

Title    Hazard’s United States Commercial and Statistical Register, Volume 1
Editor    Samuel Hazard
Publisher s.n., 1840
pg 256

Benjamin Eaton - Rural Valley Cemetery

October 16, 1842.
Benjamin Eaton, said to have been the last survivor of Washington’s Life Guard, died at Cuddeback, Orange Co., N. Y., aged 85.
He joined in the pursuit at Lexington, and served till 1779, with an absence of only 20 days.

From: The New York genealogical and biographical record (Volume 102)
. (page 7 of 52)

Google Books LINK – You can read this book online.

Show a Little of the Spirit of John Hancock in ’76

March 25, 2010

"Whatsoever Things Are True - Whatsoever Things Are Honest - Whatsoever Things Are Just - Whatsoever Things Are Pure - Whatsoever Things Are Of Good Report." -- St. Paul.

The Ohio State Journal talks somewhat like giving up. Not so fast, Mr. Journal. —

What, give up the principles of the Whig cause? Abandon all the country, and all the dearest hopes we have cherished of the purity, excellence and glory of our noble institutions, to the dishonest and corrupt faction who have gained a temporary ascendancy?

Did our father ever despair? Can you read in all their toils, their sufferings, their dark and most cheerless hours, one single design to abandon their struggle?

Did Washington, with the feeble and suffering army of a few poor, ragged and bleeding soldiers, give up his hopes and prospects, even while Burgoyne with his proud, disciplined, and victorious army of mercenary troops was sweeping like a torrent everything before him?

In the darkest page of the American Revolution, there was no faltering. Our fathers knew that the Whig cause would triumph in spite of power, — and just so certain as the revolution happily succeeded, shall the Whig cause now succeed. —

Toryism, corruption, power, patronage, wealth, cannot all crush the principles of the Whigs. They are founded on the rock of eternal truth, and will triumph.

What, man — never despair. We shall be conquerors yet.

In Old Huron, local matters, falsehood, defamation, and inactivity of the Whigs, have all conspired to their temporary defeat. But they have the strength of the people, and depend upon it, they will not suffer that strength to lie idle another year.

We have a glorious cause, and though our band is diminishing, let us join together — die it may be, but never surrender.

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Oct 15, 1839

Image from: Winter Soldiers – Arming Americans With Knowledge (great website)

From the New York Whig.

Wholesome Thoughts.

We have heard a variety of reasons offered for the falling off of the Whig strength in Vermont. One says it is because CLAY is unpopular. Another says it is because SCOTT is talked of, instead of CLAY. A third takes snuff at both reasons, and insists that it is because the friends of the other candidates are trying to choke off the gallant HARRISON. Now what does this amount to? Why, the friend of Van Buren stands by, listening to all this folly, and says, gentlemen, you are all right — it is because your candidates are all unpopular.

Such is the inevitable consequence of all this talking about a preference of candidates. The enemy overhears our discussions about a chief. He puffs and blows over the embers of our disunion. If he can kindle a spark that burns for CLAY, or HARRISON, or SCOTT — he counts upon our overthrow. And when we talk of this man, or that man, he laughs in his sleeve to see a party so sound in its elements, and really so strong, so easily blown about by dissensions as to candidates. From the very first, Van Buren has built his hopes of success upon our want of union. — He knows very well how certain would have been his defeat in 1836, had the opposition been united against him. He fears our union now, more than any thing else.

The beast and only reason we think worth naming, for our loss in Vermont, is want of votes. It is said there were some thousands who staid at home. They are not true Whigs, then, and are just such troops as would run the wrong way at the opening of the battle. Count not upon such men. He is no true Whig who is absent from the polls, in the present posture of our national affairs. Voting is the only remedy we have to put down the corrupt oligarchy at Washington — and if the Whigs are remiss in their duty, there is little room for apology — and no possible hope of success.

We ought to regard every Whig, who for any reason short of absence from the State, or actual inability keeps away from the polls, as guilty of an offense against the community. There can be no excuse for such men — and they should be dealt plainly with. Let the press speak out. Let the Whigs, old and young, in every part of the country, who have to bear the brunt of the battle in every contest speak out — and tell these lazy drones to be up and doing. Tell them to work — to put their brawny shoulders to the wheel — and all will be well.

The great trouble with the Whig party, in all our election contests — and sorry we are to say it — is that there are too many who like to sit in their arm chairs, and look out of their windows abroad upon the labors of others. These men are unusually liberal — they mean well — they talk as if the world was as easily moulded as a new made cheese — and they never can blame themselves when the issue is unfavorable, for they said so and so, and if they had been listened to, why the result might have been different. The fact is, THESE MEN MUST WORK, if they would save the country. They must go into the field — they must address themselves to the people, and share with them the heat and burden of the struggle. The moment this is generally done, that moment is the victory won.

Some may think this is plain talk. It is so — and a little more plain talk may yet be necessary. We intend to speak plain. We can tell the Whigs that there is no danger — not from the enemy, so much as from their own indifference and want of zealous co-operation throughout the country. We certainly can conquer, if we will. But newspaper rallying won’t do the work — caucusses of a few hard laboring, earnest politicians, here and there, in this and that county, or city, or ward, will never accomplish the victory. No — we want all to work — we want the merchant from the counting-house, the lawyer from his books, the banker from his desk, and the rich man from his couch — to step forth into the field, and work as others work in the struggle, in the issue of which THEY have infinitely more at stake than we have.

We want them to show a little of the spirit of John Hancock, in ’76.

He was liberal; he gave of his princely revenues to the good cause — but he did more, he gave his EXAMPLE, his personal exertions through the whole of the struggle, among his fellow citizens in the strife for victory.

This is what we want, more than money.

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Oct 15, 1839

Forty-Niner Profile: Josiah Roop

December 11, 2009

Josiah Roop was the son of Joseph Roop, Jr. and Susan Engle. At the link below is some background on the family. I have excerpted the part about Josiah and his brother Isaac.


The Library chronicle (1947)
Author: University of Pennsylvania. Library. Friends
Volume: 24
Subject: University of Pennsylvania. Library; Bibliography; CHR 1947-1981
Publisher: Philadelphia : Friends of the Library, University of Pennsylvania
Year: 1947

Pages 72-78

The arch-wanderer was Josiah,  and he set the pattern for three of his brothers. His initial step from Ashland took him only to Republic, nine miles east of Tiffin, Ohio, but he left his family there when he joined the Gold Rush and by the Spring of 1852 he owned the Old Dominion House at Shasta. On 8 May 1852 he made his brother Isaac his agent and left for home via Nicaragua to bring out his family. Dysentery overtook him in the Caribbean and he was buried at sea from SS Prometheus 14 June. 8.

Isaac became his executor and successor.  He had arrived by the steamer Oregon in San Francisco 18 March 1850 from Panama. Already he had an interesting past. As a farmer’s son in Carroll County, he had found schooling not easy to come by.

When he moved to Ashland at 1 5 he was not too young to notice Nancy Gardner of Westmoreland County, 10 who studied at Transylvania University. They married at 18 and under her ministrations his mind unfolded, advancing from contentment with frugal devotion to the soil toward a broader knowledge of the world and facility in language. Three children came along, but in 1850 she died of typhoid. Ohio could no longer hold him.

Susan and the two boys were left with grandparents and Isaac was off to join Josiah. Ephraim, next older than Isaac, had a part in the adventure, and Jonas E., prepared by apprenticeship for practice, visited Shasta briefly in 1853, but soon returned for medical schooling, and then teaching, at Cincinnati.

Isaac remained the central figure. 11 He was a miner and merchant at “Oak Bottom” (near Shasta) for a year, kept public house for four months, “lived on Bear River” till March 1852.

He entered the Masonic Fraternity at Sacramento 16 June 1851 and was a charter member and Junior Warden of Western Star Lodge No. 2 at Shasta, whose founder and first Master, Saschel Wood, had brought the charter from Missouri. 12 In a report of 15 June 1852 a phrenologist praised his personality. He was chairman of the Whig party meeting of 1 October 1852 and was their candidate for Shasta County assessor, but was defeated 836-674. He raised a fund for the Washington Monument which added up to $348.65, four times as much per voter as could be done at Placerville. He was one of 15 managers of a “cotillion party.”

In the midst of this flowering activity, 7 August 1852, came word of Josiah‘s death; in December fire swept the town, though the Old Dominion was spared; in March 1853 the store was sold but not the hotel; on 14 June 1853 fire most thoroughly destroyed the city. However Isaac had already published notice of his intent to depart “for four years, leaving 1 July for Salt River on steamer Bigler No. 2.” The fire and loss of the Old Dominion confirmed his plan to begin again elsewhere.


Josiah and his father Joseph, evidently were involved in the running of  this school:

From the Huron Reflector – 1845

Mr. Roop was  politically active:

Another Free Soil Taylor Whig.

JOSIAH ROOP, Esq., a distinguished Whig of Republic Seneca County, was nominated by the Free Soil Van Buren party in his district on the 16th ult. as their candidate for Elector. After reflecting on the matter, he resolved to decline the nomination and states his reasons in a communication to the State Journal, as follows:

I am now no less than ever, an humble advocate for the doctrine of FREEDOM — as well of Soil and [Labor, as of Speech and Thought. In espousing this doctrine, I abated nothing of my devotion to the doctrines of the Whig party, of which I have ever been a member. I am a Whig, as well as a Free Soil man. In looking at the political prospects in a practical point of view, I am persuaded that the most effectual means of preventing the extension of slavery and the increase of the slave power, is by co-operating with that party which presents the most formidable obstacles to such extension and increase. I was in Delaware on Thursday, and listened attentively to the address of Hon. THOMAS CORWIN, and I am constrained to admit that my judgment cannot resist the force of his reasoning. I am persuaded that there is no earthly prospect of the vote of Ohio being given to Messrs. Van Buren and Adams; and there is still less prospect of their being elected, even should they, against all human probability, receive the vote of Ohio. To vote for them, therefore, is equivalent to not voting at all. And this I do not conceive to be the part of patriotism, at a juncture like the present, when the great and important crisis is to be met. I cannot avoid responsibility, by throwing away my vote; and I cannot afford to purchase immunity at that rate, even were I disposed so to do.

The States of this Union being now equally divided as between slaveholding and non-slaveholding, I deem it a matter of vital importance to the latter to secure the Vice Presidency, on whom may devolve the casting vote decisive of the most important questions. There is to my mind no prospect of electing Mr. C.F. Adams to the Vice Presidency by the Electoral Colleges. In default of such election the choice will devolve upon the Senate; and that body, as already constituted, could hardly fail to make choice of Gen. William O. Butler, who is not only himself a slaveholder, but who would be constrained by the force of circumstances, as well as long-cherished sentiments, to vote with the slaveholding interest on all questions in which that interest is involved.

Under these circumstances, I feel it my duty to decline the compliment intended me by placing my name on the Free Soil Ticket; and shall at the proper time, if living and able to get to the polls, bestow my suffrage for ZACHARY TAYLOR and MILLARD FILLMORE; confidently believing that the honor and the welfare of the Republic may be safely entrusted to their hands.


Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Oct 3, 1848

California Items.

A correspondent of the Tiffin Standard on his way to California, (probably Mr. Josiah Roop from Republic, who signs himself “J.R.,” writes from St. Louis under date of April 17th as follows:

“We left Cincinnati on Friday about 1 o’clock P.M. the 13th inst. on board the fine steamer “Belle of the West,” in company with about 120 passengers bound to the El Dorado of Sacramento’s golden sands, among whom were the “Buffalo Mining Company” from Buffalo N.Y. They are a noble set of fellows, 12 in number, and are commanded by Col. Fay, formerly Governor of Camargo, and Dr. McBeth, who is one of the right stripe; also a company from Xenia and Springfield making some 20; and our own dear selves, vis: Mr. Patrick’s two sons of Norwalk, John H. McArdle, Samuel Myers and your humble correspondent. It is computed that there are now at Independence and the different parts in that region, about 5,000 emigrants. It will be the 10th of May before any will dare to start over the plains.”

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) May 8, 1849

Shasta California Mainstreet

Josiah became the postmaster of Shasta City, California:

From the book:

When the Great Spirit Died: The Destruction of the California Indians, 1850-1860
By William B. Secrest
Pg. 122 (Google Book LINK)


Mr. Josiah Roop, formerly of Republic, Seneca Co., died on board the Monumental City, between Chagres and New York. He was on his way home from California, where he had been highly successful. Mr. Roop was post-master at Shasta City. —San. Mir.

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Jul 13, 1852


josiah roop death 1josiah roop death 2

Sacramento Daily Union, Volume 3, Number 432, 10 August 1852


Previous posts mentioning Josiah Roop and his California Gold Rush Adventure:

Buckeyes Catch the Gold Fever

Buckeyes Prevail, Brook the Trail, Send Loved Ones Gold Dust in the Mail

News From the Gold Country: Josiah Roop Writes Home

** I am not related to Josiah Roop, and have only done cursory research on him. If you have additional information and/or corrections, feel free to leave me a comment.

The Poetic Presidential Campaign of Zachary Taylor

November 30, 2009

Zachary Taylor

From the Ohio State Journal


BY J. GREINER — TUNE,Uncle Ned.” [original song LYRICS]

There lives an old soldier, there never was a bolder,
On the Mississippi, down below;
His name is Old Zack, and he’s upon the track,
For President, in Ohio.


The Locofoco leaders look blue, they do,
So go it with a rush, boys, go’
For old Rough and Ready, we know everybody
Wants President, in Ohio.

With a long strong pull, pull together, altogether,
United as one man go;
With hearts true as steel, put your shoulders to the wheel,
For Old Zack in Ohio.
Chorus — The Locofoco leaders, &c.

Tho’ Cass broke his sword on a stump, and he ‘swor’d,’
(As some say he did long ago;)
The story wont pass — all ‘gas,’ Mr. Cass,
It wont do in Ohio.
Chorus — The Locofoco leaders &c.

Let Cass run his chances — we think “circumstances
Will prevent his attendance,” you know;
Old Zack fights to win — he’s good looking, he’ll come in,
With a shout from Ohio.
Chorus — The Locofoco leaders, &c.

Poor Cass, a man of doubt, wires in and wires out —
Both this way and that way he’ll go;
But candidate Cass, like a snake in the grass,
You can’t hide in Ohio.
Chorus — The Locofoco leaders, &c.

Hang your banners on the wall, Whigs, Democrats and all,
For Old Rough and Ready we go;
For he’s an honest man — elect him boys, we can,
And we’ll do it in Ohio.
Chorus — The Locofoco leaders, &c.

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Jun 27, 1848


Composed by J. Greiner, Esq., of Columbus, Ohio, and dedicated to the Detroit Rough and Ready Glee Club, and sung by them at the Washtenaw County Convention, July 4th.


Come kindle your watch-fire every true Whig,
No longer stand watching the weather,
In heart and in hand, united we’ll stand,
Sink, swim, live or die, altogether.
Then rally, “Whigs rally” from hill-top and valley,
Your Banners unfurl to the sky.

Old Zack’s on the track, will you stand at his back,
All you in his favor say “Ay,” (that’s it.)
Stand up to the rack, ye friend of Old Zack,
Ye Whigs that will never say die.

Shall we in the hour of danger shrink back,
Surrender Old Zack, never! no —
Who never turned back of his and to a friend,
Nor back of his coat to a foe.
We’ll give ’em a little more grape “Capt. Bragg,”
His enemies proudly defy.

Old Zack’s on the track, &c.

Alas! poor Cass, our noise and confusion,
His sensitive soul will confound.
The sword he ran into the old hollow stump,
He soon will run into the ground.
The Court of France may have taught him to dance,
To cut a pigeon-wing high.

Old Zack’s on the track, &c.

When Old Zack is snug in the Presidential Chair,
Then we shall enjoy the fun,
He never will “GO IN” for “BURNING THE BARN,”
But Lord, how the RATS they will run.
Tho’ poor Matty Van is a badly used man,
His chances are all in my eye.

Old Zack’s on the track, &c.

Then saddle the Nags, the track is all ready,
No matter how many may come.
We’ll bet “Old Whitey” will distance the field,
We know that his rider is “SOME.”
Then down with the dust, and fork up the dough,
No longer stand parleying by.


Old Zack’s on the track, will you stand at his back,
All you in favor, say “Aye,” OLD ZACK, (that’s it.)
Never fly from the track, ye friends of Old Zack,
Ye Whigs that never say die.

N.B. The audience answer “Aye,” in the Chorus.”

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Aug 1, 1848

From the Library of Congress website, an explanation of the above image:

SUMMARY:  In a ring a large bull, wearing a ribbon marked “The Rough & Ready” between its horns, faces five matadors. The bull represents Zachary Taylor, nicknamed “Old Rough and Ready.” The matadors are prominent Whigs, who hold capes expressing their varied expectations of the candidate. The matadors are (from left to right): Senator John J. Crittenden holding a “Wilmot [Proviso]” cape; New York editor James Watson Webb, who states, “We desire you to have–” [written on cape] “No Veto Power.” An unidentified man (possibly Congressman John M. Botts) says, “We will have–” [on cape] “A National Bank.” Daniel Webster insists, “We must have–” [on cape] “A High Tariff!” An unidentified man standing behind Webster exclaims, “I hope that we won’t be Bulled!” In the background are stands crowded with spectators, above which flies a flag “U. S.”


From the Winchester (Ia.) Orthopolitan.



TUNE — “OLD GRANITE STATE.” [original song LYRICS]

We are coming, we are coming!
To the battle just begun,
We’ve a true and tried commander,
For ’tis Taylor leads us on;
He who fought so bravely for us,
On the eighth and ninth of May,
And amid the fearful carnage
On the hights of Monterey.
We are all for Taylor.
We are all for Taylor.
We’re for Fillmore and for Taylor.
For the honest and the true.

He who never has surrendered
Though the foe stood four to one,
Is the brave and gallant Taylor,
Who will nobly lead us on;
And the ides of next November
Will record another name,
In the highest nich of glory,
On the brightest scroll of fame.
We are all for Taylor, &c.

Though our foes may count by legions,
We will never shun the fray,
But will bravely march to battle,
And are sure to win the day;
For ’tis Rough and Ready leads us
Who has never known defeat,
And his word is every “ONWARD,”
For he knows not a retreat.
We are all for Taylor, &c.

Where the battle rages thickest
Will our gallant chief be found,
And his cheering voice be ringing
To encourage all around;
Every danger nobly scorning,
He will boldly lead the van,
To a Buena Vista greeting
For the man of Michigan.
We are all for Taylor, &c.

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Aug 8, 1848


AIR — Who’ll be King but Charlie. [Original song LYRICS]

The news comes in, on every hand,
From mountain top to ocean,
To stir the heart and rouse the land,
And keep the ball in motion.
With banners flowing and bosoms glowing,
And ranks all true and steady,
A nation’s voice proclaims our choice,
Hurrah for Rough and Ready!
With banners flowing and bosoms glowing,
Come, Southrons and Northrons, we’re all agoing
To join the throng and shout the song,
Hurrah for Rough and Ready!

The Western lads are all alive,
See how the prairie blazes!
And rock and hill fling back the cheer
The distant frontier raises.
With banners flowing, &c.

The boys of Maine will try again
What hearts and hands can do, sir,
And there’s the star, that never sets,
She blazes brightly too, sir.
With banners flowing, &c.

The ladies all are on our side,
And urge us to our duty,
And where’s the cause that ever failed,
When backed by truth and beauty?
With banners flowing, &c.

Then here’s to him, the brave old man,
The soul of truth and honor,
He leads us in our country’s name,
God’s blessing be upon her.
With banners flowing, &c.

Then freemen, up, to all you love,
Be firm and true and steady,
And every man resolve to stand
Like men by Rough and Ready.

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Sep 5, 1848

From the Ohio State Journal.

One of the Old Zack Songs.

TUNE — “O look ye there.”

O all ye pouting, doubting Whigs,
Who go about as mourners,
Come wipe the tear-drops from your eyes,
Stop croaking on the corners.

O come along, with shout and song,
And “go it” while you’re able,
We’ll put Old Zack in the White House, boys,
“Old Whitey” in the White House stable.

Ah me! to hear these croakers croak,
O, ’tis a “sin to Moses!”
They snuffle, they “can’t go Old Zack,”
And then they wipe their noses.

O come along, &c.

Cheer up! cheer up! ye fearful Whigs,
And on your harness buckle;
At doubting Whigs the devil laughs,
The Locofocos chuckle.

O come along, &c.

The Locos swore that Harry Clay
Made pledges far too many;
The rascals now abuse Old Zack,
Because he don’t make any.

O come along, &c.

The Taylor platform’s broad enough
To hold this mighty nation;
‘Tis built of Whig materials all,
And has a firm foundation.

O come along, &c.

The Locos tried at Baltimore,
To fix a platform bigger;
They set a “dead-fall,” and for bait
Stuck Cass upon the trigger.

O come along, &c.

The sly old fox of Kinderhook,
He eyes the trap with wonder;
He thought ‘twould do for catching rats,
But “foxes” wouldn’t go under.

O come along, &c.

Tho’ Cass has lived all his six lives
In office, for the trimmings,
Yet Old Zack curries the longest pole,
And he’ll knock all the “‘SIMMONS.”

O come along, &c.

Nine Taylors to make a single man,
We always used to muster;
Take nine such Taylors as Old Zack,
And wouldn’t he be a buster!

O come along, &c.

Then come along with shout and song,
And “go it” strong, we’re able,
W’ell put Old Zack in the White House, boys,
Old Whitey in the White House stable.

O come along &c.

P.S. — Tho’ chicken thieves abuse Old Zack,
They’ll “catch it” if they’re taken,
For tho’ Joe Bennett stole the hog,
He didn’t save his bacon.

O come along, &c.

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Sep 12, 1848


(Changed from the N.Y. Tribune.)

“Haul down the flag! — all’s over;
We have done what men could do,
Unbroken through adversity,
A tried and gallant crew;
So it has been with Truth and Right
In every age and clime.
Beaten, — borne down by the numbers, —
And conquered —– for a time.”

Such — when the fight was ending,
And our boldest men turned pale;
For the stoutest hearts had learned to fear
Under that driving gale;
When our ships were drifting helplessly
Upon the heaving tide,
And the good Kentucky liner
Poured in her last broadside —

Such, were our thoughts when beaten;
But how else should it be?
False flags and foreign bottoms
Gathered from every sea,
Freebooters of all nations
That sail the salt sea brine;
Thank God! there wasn’t one of them
Fought in the old Whig Line!

In the rough and bitter weather
And the angry tempest’s frown,
Few Whig ships were left together,
When the dismal sun went down,
Repairing the disasters
Of the storm and battle’s wreck;
But we still hear distant cheering
When we listen from the deck.

None know — so thick the night is,
What ships yet live or drown;
And the Constitution’s color
Are at half-mast, union down;
But the old ship heaves a rocket
Through the darkness for a sign,
And from the whole scattered squadron
See the dancing signals shine!

For the years are rolling over,
And the time has come again;
We have another fight to fight,
Another field to win,
The LAST field — for the country;
If but once more we fail;
Hoist your last rags of canvas,
And TRUST the favoring gale!

We were not always beaten;
Think of the times of yore!
Shake out the ancient ensign
We conquered with before!
The Flag of the Revolution
Flying as first it flew;
Up to the highest topmast!
Send up the Buff and Blue!

With shout for our new Commander,
Roll out that larboard gun,
Signal the beat to quarters,
There are fields yet to be won;
And while he nobly leads us —
While we with him conquering strive,
Nine Cheers for Admiral Taylor,
The bravest man alive!

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Sep 19, 1848

From the Rough and Ready Songster.


Twas in the trench at Vera Cruz,
A group of soldiers lay,
Weary and worn with working
At the guns the live long day.
Their faces were begrimmed with sand,
And soot from shot and shell
Exploding in the crumbling earth —
For fast the missiles fell.

Yet cheerly they chatted,
For their hearts with hope beat high,
They knew the hour of victory
Was surely drawing nigh.
There came a war-worn soldier,
To mingle with the rest;
They bade him welcome to their cheer,
And gave him of the best.

He’d served with General Taylor,
And they asked him of the man,
Who first and last had led the way
To victory in the van —
On the winding Rio Grande
On the eighth and ninth of May,
And the storm of Monterey.

“I knew him first,” the soldier said,
“Among the Everglades,
When we gave the savage red-skins
Our bayonets and our blades.
I think I hear his cheerful voice:
‘On column!’ Steady! steady
So hardy and so prompt was he,
We called him Rough and Ready.

“He rode upon an old white horse;
And wore a brown surtout —
But, oftener, when the ground was deep,
He trudged with us on foot.
The man from whose canteen he drank
Was envied and though lucky;
He had the brave and kind good heart
The honored old Kentucky.

“By wounds outworn, I left the field;
But when a new campaign
Against another foe commenced,
I joined the ranks again.
‘Twas fun alive, boys, once again
To hear the sabre’s clank,
To see old Rough and Ready ride
His white horse on our flank.

“At Palo Alto comrades, there
He gave us work to do,
And o’er La Palma’s sulphury smoke
His flag triumphant flew.
When from the fire his aid-de-camp
Would have the chief retire,
Old Rough and Ready merely said,
‘We’ll ride a little nigher.’

“You should have seen the brave old boy
In the streets of Monterey,
When the cannon swept the plaza,
How he sternly stood at bay.
When shell, and grape, and cannon ball
On their deadly errand went —
The general seemed a man of steel,
And fire his element.

“And if a wounded soldier,
In the streets of Monterey,
Or friend or foe, looked up to him
Imploring, whence he lay,
He stooped to wipe the drops of pain
That dimmed the marble brow,
Or proffered from his own canteen
A drink — I see him now!

“At Red Buena Vista
My part I could not bear —
But they tell me that the brown surtout
And the old white horse were there.
And well do I believe it;
For the foe stood four to one —
And without old Rough and Ready
How had the fight been won?

“I’ve worn the sergeant’s chevron,
And I may wear it yet —
But old Rough and Ready tells me
I shall wear the epaulet;
But in the ranks or out of them,
To him I’ll still prove steady,
And long as I’ve a tongue to talk,
Speak out for Rough and Ready!

So spake the war-worn soldier
To his comrades as they lay
Beneath the breast-work, where they’d served
The guns the live-long day.
And their sleepiness and weariness
It fairly chased away,
When the Rio Grande’s hero
Spoke the man from Monterey.

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Sep 26, 1848

A New Taylor Man.

Mr. Willis Hall, the Attorney, has gone over to Van Buren, but Mr. Willis, the Poet, has come over to Gen. Taylor. The exchange is a very good one for our side. We could expect no less from our old coadjutor and assistant, than he should follow the lead of the Mirror, in going for our candidate for the Presidency. The song that we publish from the Boston Atlas, by Mr. Willis, is decidedly the best Taylor song that has yet been published, and is worthy the reputation of the author.
[N.Y. Mirror.


TUNE: — “Dandy Jim of Caroline.” [original song LYRICS]

Come Whigs! come brothers — one and all!
Flock to the “Rough and Ready” call!
Come stand up close and hear our song,
And follow it up with chorus strong!


Toe the mark, ’tis Taylor can —
Hero, sage, and kindly man!
In council great as in deadly fray,
But a plain old fellow for every day.

Now, where has been for many a year,
This will so firm — this head so clear?
Such men, for Fame, will oceans swim!
Zack chose that Fame should come to him!
Toe the mark, ’tis Taylor can.

Zack’s coat is loose — his manner’s “rough” —
But, near him, hearts bow fast enough;
And the old great coat will do to wear!
Tho’ a bullet hole shows here and there!*
Toe the mark, ’tis Taylor can.

To faithful guard a weary post —
At any odds to fight a host —
To spare the weak — to keep his word —
To hold his own by pen or sword.
Toe the mark, ’tis Taylor can.

When Hull’s surrender laid us low,
Fort Harrison next met the foe;
Hope saw the onset in despair —
She didn’t know old Zack was there!
Toe the mark, ’tis Taylor can.

Worth twenty lives, the risk’d renown,
The desp’rate stake, to save Fort Brown!
But Palo Alto clear’d the track,
And through Resaca went Old Zack!
Toe the mark, ’tis Taylor can.

By ruthless storm, at Monterey,
More proudly might have gone the day —
But wife and child stood by the foe,
And Taylor let the glory go!
Toe the mark, ’tis Taylor can.

But Polk began a rat to smell; —
Zack serv’d his country quite too well!
To his “high horse” they “hollered whoe!”
But couldn’t stop “old whitey” so!
Toe the mark, ’tis Taylor can.

Supplies cut off — “boys” all away —
In doors, they thought, he’d have to stay,
And now Polk’s passport friend might call,
And laugh at Zack behind his wall.
Toe the mark, ’tis Taylor can.

Down came Santa Ana, five to one,
With thanks to Polk, expecting fun!
Buena Vista wasn’t far,
Zack let him do his laughing “thar!”
Toe the mark, ’tis Taylor can.

Hard was the foe that day to drive —
One new recruit to veterans five!
But when it grew too tough, they say,
Old spy-glass came and turn’d the day!
Toe the mark, ’tis Taylor can.

Buena Vista’s star is bright!
But where will fall its purest light!
On Zack’s last order, sad and low —
Bring in the wounded, friend and foe!”
Toe the mark, ’tis Taylor can.

A heart with victory softer grown —
A head that knaves soon let alone —
A hand no foe drove ever back —
And a soul all truth has glorious Zack!
Toe the mark, ’tis Taylor can.

Now if you’d like to know the school
Where Presidents best learn to rule —
Zack’s life is just the very one
God chose to train a Washington!
Toe the mark, ’tis Taylor’s can —
Hero, sage, and kindly man!
In council great, as in deadly fray —
But a plain old fellow for every day.

*NOTE. — It was mentioned in one account of the battle of Buena Vista, that Gen. Taylor’s grey great coat had two bullet-holes through it, when he took it off after the action.
[Boston Atlas.

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Oct 31, 1848

From the Newark Daily Advertiser.



Night-shadows fell cold at the closing of day,
Where the morrow should see valor’s contest with numbers;
The bivouaked armies in hostile array
Sank to rest, while the sentries kept watch o’er their slumbers.
‘Neath the stars few to fight the proud foe in his might,
While loved hearts afar, quailed with fear at the sight;
But the soldier reposed, with the dreams of the brave
That the Stars and the Stripes should triumphantly wave.

The drum and the bugle aroused them at morn
And they sprang to their arms for the contest of glory;
Their chieftain that flag, long defeatless, had borne,
With a fame that shall ne’er be forgotten in story.
Like the waves of the main swept their horse o’er the plain,
While red grew each hill and ravine with the slain;
But they saw through the battle cloud’s darkness, the brave,
That star flag, though torn, still triumphantly wave.

O’er wearied they sank on their weapons to rest
When the night-cloud again on their valor descended,
Mid comrades the noblest, the bravest and best
Who slept their last sleep where their courage contended.
But when broke the day, O! where — where were they —
The proud legions of night? — in their fear fled away!
Then gladly they saw that star-flag o’er the brave,
In the sheen of the morning triumphantly wave.

All hail to the Hero who valiantly led
First and foremost the rank of his country’s defenders!
For now we have railed, and made him our head,
First in peace to proclaim him who never surrenders.
The laurel wreath fair from his brow none can tear,
But still greener shall bloom in the President’s chair;
And the nation, rewarding the honest and brave,
Shall behold, its star-banner triumphantly wave.

O! the Ides of November will tell them a tale
In a voice that shall echo like Waterloo’s thunder;
And autumn winds mournfully whistle and wail
A sad dirge for officials who fatten on plunder.
Corruption’s dark blight far shall flee from HIS sight
Who asked for no favors yet feared not the fight;
And as Buena Vista beheld o’er the brave,
That Star-flag o’er us shall triumphantly wave.

NEWARK, Oct. 11, 1848.

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Nov 7, 1848

[Written for the Dalem Taylor Glee Club.]


TUNE — “O, carry me back to Old Virginia. [original lyrics and music]

These stirring time — these stirring times —
We’ve worked both night and day,
With rousing speeches and merry rhymes,
Our toil has been but play.
And now we’ve whipped both Cass and Van,
We need not work any more —
Oh row them up the old Salt river,
And set them on the shore.
Oh row them up, &c.

Now the women all, both great and small,
Have gone for honest Zack;
And every married Taylor man
Has a Taylor wife at his back.
While the maidens fair, they all declare,
Their brightest smiles are for
The gallant youth, who love the truth,
And Cass and Van abhor.
Oh row them up, &c.

See in their State, the damsels wait,
On the man they delight to honor;
There’s Flora Day, so far away,
Our blessings rest upon her;
And Delia Ware, so fresh and fair,
Did her hero worship prove;
While Louisa Anna has shown she can a
Fine old veteran love.
Oh row them up, &c.

Miss Carolina she is as fine a
Girl as walks the earth,
And Georgia, too, she is true blue,
And does credit to her birth;
But of all my land, Miss Rhody Island,
Has made it clear to sight,
That Providence smiles on woman’s wiles,
When she uses them aright.
Oh row them up, &c.

We give our hand to Mary Land,
For she’s a real lady;
But Miss. S. Sippi is too tippy,
To vote for Rough and Ready.
Miss Souri and Virginia,
(Now is it not too shocking?)
Say –‘No, we will not let you in,
So prithee ‘stop that knocking.”
So row them up, &c.

Each Taylor man has done what he can,
And worked with right good will,
With thought and sense and eloquence,
That to head and heart appeal,
Yet ’tis but human that every woman
Should in our cause assist;
And all must own, that behind the throne,
Is a power than none can resist.
We’ve rowed them up the old Salt river,
And set them on the shore.

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Dec 26, 1848

For the Huron Reflector.



Now the campaign of ’48
Has reached a joyous close!
The Whigs have gained their President,
In spite of all their foes.


And here’s to the Old Keystone State!
For she has nobly done;
And home protection she shall have
Without the advalorem;
Without the advalorem, boys,
Without the advalorem;
And home protection she shall have
Without the advalorem.

The Loco lads unfurled their flag,
With “Cass and Butler too;”
But ‘gainst Old Zack they could not stand,
Old Zack the brave and true.

The leaders thought that all was safe
As in the days of yore;
But the Whigs unfurled a nobler flag,
With “Taylor and Fillmore.”

Now Mat’s retired to private life,
And Butler is no more;
The craft that bore old Cass away,
Has reached Salt River’s shore.


And here’s to the great Empire State,
She has done nobly too;
And out of members thirty-four,
She give us thirty two.
She gives us thirty-two my boys,
She gives us thirty-two;
And out of members thirty-four,
She gives us thirty-two.

The shores are bad, the River rough,
And oh, how hard they toil!
The Locofoco leaders now
For help cry out “Free Soil!”

Ah! doughfaces, hold down your heads,
Your Cass is fairly beat,
By that Free Soil for which he said
We could not legislate.

Call not for shame, upon that name,
Or raise your idle bark?
For when the question was brought up,
You didn’t toe the mark.

That Free Soil robe you have put on,
Will never stand the dye,
‘Tis like the morning’s gossamers
That with the zephyrs fly.

You now may put up tongue and pen;
There’s nothing you can do,
Our Territories come in free
Before next fifty-two!

Old Zack, you’re now our President,
The Whigs fell wondrous nice;
But ere you start from Baton Rouge,
I’ll give you some advice.


And here’s to the New England States!
I know they Slavery hate;
But Free Soil traps could not catch them
With Matty for their bait.
With Matty for their bait, my boys,
With Matty for their bait,
But Free Soil traps could not catch them,
With Matty for their bait.

Now when you go to Washington,
Forget all past abuse;
[But never rest until you’re cleared
Tom Benton’s buzzard roost!

If office-seekers should come round,
Give Jamie Polk a share,
For he has labored wondrous hard
To put you in the Chair.

And as respects your Cabinet,
I have one word to say;
Let your first choice be first in worth,
Our glorious HARRY CLAY.

When legislation gets on smart,
And Jack Calhoun looks sour;
Then Zack, this last advice respect,
Don’t use the Veto power.


Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Dec 26, 1848

From the New-York Tribune.

“So Say we All.”

The other day a  trot came off — ’twas Suffolk versus Polk —
I railwayed to the trotting course, along with many folk;
I staked my cash on “Jemmy K.”  they told me he would win,
But then, too soon I found, alas! that I was taken in.
To Saratoga then I went — to dance I had a will.
And asked a damsel that I saw to dance in the quadrille;
She said me yes — confound the girl, I’d dearly like to choke her,
For she knew how — but I did not — to tumble thro’ the Polka;
Music struck up, and we struck out — oh! ’twas a thing of course;
I lost my BALANCE, as I did when betting on the horse;
And now I hear another Polk will run another race
Upon the Presidential course, against the old “white face.”
But on my life, I swear to you, that General Lewis Cass
Can’t get the man who backed the horse to LOSE UPON THE ASS.


Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Sep 12, 1848

Lewis Cass

When the Locofocos tell us how Gen. Cass behaved on surrendering himself to the British, they take a very unfair advantage of us. We cannot point them to old Rough and Ready’s behavour at a surrender. — Prentice.

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Sep 5, 1848


In the book, Lewis Cass and the Politics of Moderation (Google Books LINK) pg. 13: More about the surrender.

Margaret Taylor (Image from

The President elect is a joker. At a tavern in Maryland, while he was waiting for the Baltimore train, among others who introduced themselves was one of the obiquitous Smith family. On hearing the name, Gen. Taylor remarked, with a merry twinkling of the eye —

“That’s no name at all.”

“Why, General,” replied Mr. Smith, “you should have no objection to the name, Mrs. Taylor was a Smith.”

“Yes,” added he promptly, “but I made her change her name, and I advise you to do so too.”

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Apr 3, 1849

Home of Zachary Taylor, "Springfield," Brownsboro Road

Correspondence of the New York Express.

Old Zack at Home.

WASHINGTON, March, 27, 1849.

The President is one of the most humorous and campanionable bodies of the metropolis. — He satisfies everybody here, which is more than anybody else does, and amuses even those who are disappointed. He enjoys himself much, I should think, but whether he does or not, everybody is at home where he is.

Upon the reception days the ladies are first cared for and served. He offers an arm to one, a seat to another, tells a third where his daughter and niece are to be found, and has the faculty of entertaining a dozen at a time. When the ladies are all attended to, he has a kind word for the gentlemen, and a dozen for little children, if any are around him. The more formal visitors address him as “Mr. President;” the less formal as “General Taylor,” which he seems rather to prefer.

There are no servants or attendants about him, and when he wants to see any of his household he goes to them rather than have them come to him. “Excuse me for introducing myself,” said a gentleman the other day. “No excuse is necessary, sir. Here, if anywhere, the people have a right to come without an introduction.”

“I have been a soldier for forty years,” said an old Marylander to him the other day, “but not so successful as you, General Taylor.”

“Only,” said old Zack in reply, “because you had not so many opportunities to win success.”

Old men, young children and ladies, seem to be the favorite companions of the President. For the first he has the respect and care due to old age, for the second, the love of a patriot, and for the last, the gallantry of a soldier and a well bred Southern man.

Truth seems to be with him the highest standard of politeness, and he will not seem what he does not feel and what he is not at heart.

The other day having visited Mrs. John Quincy Adams, and Mrs. Madison, he rode up hill and down dale in pursuit of Mrs. Alexander Hamilton. It was long before he found her, (having recently changed her lodgings,) but he went from one end of the city to the other, and seemed to enjoy the interview mightily.

Indeed the practice of the President is to learn all he can of the past, and from men who knew most of the early Presidents and the early history of the Government. Washington’s farewell address he has treasured up  within his heart of hearts, and Washington’s life and Washington’s example, is the mirror of his own life. “What do you propose,” says a friend to him now and then. “What Washington did,” and he always has a word or incident to illustrate what he means.

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) May 8, 1849

Death of the President.

This even, so solemn and important in its character, so sudden and startling in its announcement, has thrown the mantle of unspeakable sorrow over the nation. But sixteen months and a few days had elapsed since ZACHARY TAYLOR assumed the Presidential office, to the period of his death, yet in that brief interval, he had enthroned himself in the affections and confidence of the people, with a power possessed by none of his predecessors save Washington.

Like him, he was “first in war,” leading the armies of the Republic in a perilous contest over doubtful battlefields, every one of which by his prowess was converted into a field of victory. Like him, he was “first in peace,” conducting the difficult and delicate relations of our Government with foreign powers and so perintending its domestic concerns at a period of extraordinary perplexity and trouble, in a manner to promote the general peace and prosperity, and to compel the admiration and gratitude of all nations abroad and all parties at home. In less than five years, he had risen from a station of comparative obscurity, and by the force of his military and civil acts, the wisdom of his public policy, and the virtues of his private character, he had placed himself in advance of all the living men of the nation, “first in the hearts of his countrymen.

He had served his race with the zeal of a Philanthropist, his country with the valor of a Hero, and the devotion of a Patriot, and his God with the fidelity of a Christian. To translate the voice of this great public bereavement, words are weak —

To pronounce his eulogy, they are needless.

Let his last words be his only epitaph, “I am prepared — I have endeared to do my duty.

Huron Reflector (Norwalk, Ohio) Jul 16, 1850


The following brief sketch of Gen. TAYLOR’s career we take from the Inquirer. The events of his life within the last four years are too familiar to the public, to need a more extended recapitulation. The renown of the Mexican campaign has added a page to the history of the country which will be repeated for ages, and the name of Taylor will be mentioned whenever courage, exalted patriotism and public worth are spoken of:

Gen. Taylor was born in Orange county, Va., in 1790 [24 Nov 1784]. His father, Col. Taylor, served in the war of the revolution, and in 1789 emigrated from Virginia to Kentucky, where he bore a conspicuous part in the labors and struggles of the early settlers. In May, 1808, Zachary Taylor was commissioned as a Lieutenant in the 7th Regiment of U.S. Infantry. In 1812 he was captain, and placed in command of Fort Harrison on the Wabash. When the war with Great Britain commenced, the fort was attacked by 400 Indians, and for his successful defence of it, he was brevetted major. After that war, he received the rank of colonel and during the Black-Hawk war in 1832, distinguished himself at the battle of Bad-axe, whice resulted in the capture of Black-Hawk and the Prophet.

In 1836, he was ordered to Florida in command of a separate column, and in December, 1837, fought at the battle of Okee-cho-bee, which resulted in the total defeat of a large body of the Indians. In May, 1845, Texas was annexed to the Union, and in the August following, Gen. Taylor, then in command of the first department of the army, proceeded with a portion of his troops to Corpus Christi. On the 11th of March, 1846, he took up his line of march for the Rio Grande, where he arrived on the 28th. On the 12th of April he was summoned by the Mexican General to evacuate his post on the river, which he refused to do.

On the 1st of May he left his entrenchments, opposite Matamoras, to open the communication with point Isabel. On the 8th of May, on his return to relieve Fort Brown, which was bombarded by the Mexicans, he was encountered by 6000 of the enemy at Palo Alto, whom he defeated. His own force consisted of two thousand one hundred men. The next day, the 9th, he again met them at Resaca de la Palmo, and after a hard-fought battle, routed them with slaughter, and took possession of Matamoras. These two signal victories, obtained with such disparity of force, produced an enthusiastic admiration of Gen. Taylor, and of his gallant companions in arms.

On the 21st and 22d of September he assaulted Monterey, a fortified city in Mexico, which, after a desperate resistance, capitulated. On the 22d of February, 1847, with a force consisting of five thousand men, (General Wool being second in command,) he encountered the Mexicans at Buena Vista, under Santa Anna, twenty thousand strong, and totally defeated them.

On the 14th February, 1849, on an examination of the electoral votes for President and Vice President, he was declared duly elected President of the United States, and was inaugurated on the 4th [5th] of March following. He thus occupied the office of Chief Magistrate a few days more than sixteen months.

Tioga Eagle (Wellsboro, Pennsylvania) Jul 17, 1850

NOTE: The above article gives a good, brief, biographical summary, but some of the dates are off, which I have noted, and there are also several typos/spelling errors, which I left in.


Zachary Taylor Memorial on Find-A-Grave

Forgotten Presidents