Village.”  In the same way, a man might have seen a horse, (if only a clothes-horse,) a dog, a cat, and a tadpole, and yet never have seen the elephant,—­a most blame-worthy neglect of opportunities.  But let us apply Mr. Choate’s syllogistic process to the list of this extraordinary nameless person’s acquirements.  The Republican Party do not know any of these amazing things; ergo, they must know America; and the corollary (judging from Mr. Choate’s own practice, as displayed in the parts of his oration which we are sure he will one day wish to blot) would seem to be, that, having the honor of her acquaintance, they may apply very contemptuous epithets to everybody that disagrees with them.  The only weak point in our case is, that Mr. Choate himself seems to allow them the one merit of knowing something of Geography,—­for he says they wished to elect a “geographical President,”—­but, perhaps, as they did not succeed in doing so, he will forgive them the possession of that accomplishment, so hostile to a knowledge of America.

We confess that we were surprised to find Mr. Choate reviving, on “the serene and secret mountain-top,”—­which, being interpreted, means the rather prosaic Tremont Temple,—­the forgotten slang of a bygone political contest, as in the instance we have just quoted of the “geographical President.”  We think that Colonel Fremont might be allowed to rest in peace, now that a California court has decided—­with a logic worthy of Mr. Choate himself—­that he has no manner of right to the gold in his Mariposa mines, because he owns them.  But we should like to have Mr. Choate define, when he has leisure, where an unfortunate candidate can take up his abode, in order to escape the imputation of being “geographical.”  It is a grave charge to be brought against any man, as we see by its being coupled with those dreadful Telluric Influences and Cosmical (ought we not to dele the s?) Unities; and since the most harmless man in the world may become a candidate before he expects it, it would be charitable to warn him beforehand what is an allowable habitat in such a contingency.

We said we were surprised at seeing our old friend, the “geographical President,” again; but we soon found that he reappeared only as the file-leader of a ragged regiment of kindred scarecrows,—­nay, with others so battered and bedraggled, that they were scarce fit to be the camp-followers of the soldiery with whom Falstaff refused to march through Coventry.  The sarcasms which Mr. Choate vents against the Anti-slavery sentiment of the country are so old as to be positively respectable,—­we wish we could say that their vivacity increased with their years,—­and as for his graver indictments, there never was anything so ancient, unless it be an American lad of eighteen.  There are not a great many of either, but they are made to recur often enough to produce the impression of numbers.  They remind us of the theatric army,