THE NEW AMERICAN PRESIDENT.

Westport Times, Volume III, Issue 453, 16 January 1869, Page 3

THE NEW AMERICAN PRESIDENT.

General Grant, now President of the United States, only ten years ago sold wood, cut by himself, by the cart-load in the streets of St. Louis. Even the ' life of Abraham Lincoln contained no such rapid transition from the humblest pursuits to the highest public stations. On the memorable 13th of April, 1861, still an obscure clerk in a leather store at the modest salary of 800 dollars a year, and but two years later the most successful geueral on the loyal side! The first Napoleon himself climbed the ladder of fame no faster. The followiug description of the new President is given by an American paper:—A plain, medium-sized, mid-dle-aged gentleman —who may be seen any day galloping rapidly along the wide and muddy streets of Washington, or quietly strolling down the Avenue smoking his cigar (on able correspon- ' dent once detected him eating peaches, and made the act historical), not a man to astonish you, but seemingly intent upon minding his own business, and permitting other men to mind theirs. Look into his face —it gives the impression of reserved and subdued strength—a temper under perfect control. His hands and feet are small, which in ancient times would have been said to show gentle blood. A quiet, admirable-poised man, without velvet or tinsel, persistent without brilliancy, going steadily on to his conclusions, sometimes slow, but never erratic, with a nature that rises to every emergency, long enduring, as in the Yicksburfj siege, quick as lightning to seize those moments which may be called the inspiration of victory, as at fort Fort Donelson—when he ordered General Smith to advance, as at Mission Ridge, when he sent Sherman and Thomas and Sheridan surging over the mountain ridge. A gentleman in the fullest sense of that fine word—not the gentleman of the mercer and haberdasher, anointed and perfumed, and rippling with small talk, but considerate, patient, gentle, forgiving, believing that human nature is honest, and that the world is full of justice and charity—a gentleman of the Lincoln school, such a one as in some respects we found in Louis Philippe—above scandal, kind to subordinates, making all burdens gentle, claiming no honors but what he has fairly won, fond of his friends, and constant in his friendships, the same at all time 3 and under all circumstances —even minded, not given to profanity, and shrinking with womanly modesty from all things vulgar, not a bookman —a steady plodder at West Point, who did his work reasonably well, and made little impression on his tutors. A nature of slow and patient growth, its fullness coming late, not adolescent too early, a boy until the last hour of boyhood, and then a fresh, lusty, much enduring man. <»

j Not so Ghees'. —At a supper-table on board one of the Mississippi boats, a jjoston exquisite saiu to a raw Jonathan seated by his side, whom he wanted to hand him the butter, "Buttah, sah!" "I see it is," replied Jonathan. " Buttah, sah, I say!" fiercely repeated the dandy. " I know it—very good, a first-rate article." " Buttah, I tell you!" thundered the dandy, in louder tones. " Wall, gosh, all Jerusalem, what of it ?" now yelled the downeaster, getting up his dander in turn. " Yer didn't think I took it for lard ?" The advantage of having corns is that then you always stand on your own achers. It would now appear that there was little ground for the supposition that a Fenian conspiracy to assassinate Prince Alfred had existed at Sydney previous to O'Parrell's attack on his Royal Highness. The Argus says:—

It is almost certain that Mr Parkes, in his recent statement on the subject, has been romancing—for what purpose, he alone knows. Our telegram informs usthatyesterday the Legislative Assembly of Sydney appointed a select committee to investigate his statements, and it would appear that in the course of the debate he admitted that they were based on O'Farrell's confessions ! Mr Parkes appears to be placed in a most unenviable position as a public man in connection with this matter. Ibish Twins.—An old, ragged, redfaced, forlorndooking Irishwoman accosted us with —' Plase sir, give me a fip to bay bread wid, I am a poor lone woman and have two young twins to support.' ' Why, my good woman, you seem too old to have twins of your own. ' They are not mine, sir, lam only rasin' em. ' How old are your twins ?' < One of em is seven weeks old, and t'other is eight months old, plase sir.'