expending the money of the whole people for an object which will benefit only a portion of them—­is the greatest real objection to improvements, and has been so held by General Jackson, Mr. Polk, and all others, I believe, till now.  But now, behold, the objects most general—­nearest free from this objection—­are to be rejected, while those most liable to it are to be embraced.  To return:  I cannot help believing that General Cass, when he wrote his letter of acceptance, well understood he was to be claimed by the advocates of both sides of this question, and that he then closed the door against all further expressions of opinion purposely to retain the benefits of that double position.  His subsequent equivocation at Cleveland, to my mind, proves such to have been the case.

One word more, and I shall have done with this branch of the subject.  You Democrats, and your candidate, in the main are in favor of laying down in advance a platform—­a set of party positions—­as a unit, and then of forcing the people, by every sort of appliance, to ratify them, however unpalatable some of them may be.  We and our candidate are in favor of making Presidential elections and the legislation of the country distinct matters; so that the people can elect whom they please, and afterward legislate just as they please, without any hindrance, save only so much as may guard against infractions of the Constitution, undue haste, and want of consideration.  The difference between us is clear as noonday.  That we are right we cannot doubt.  We hold the true Republican position.  In leaving the people’s business in their hands, we cannot be wrong.  We are willing, and even anxious, to go to the people on this issue.

But I suppose I cannot reasonably hope to convince you that we have any principles.  The most I can expect is to assure you that we think we have and are quite contented with them.  The other day one of the gentlemen from Georgia [Mr. Iverson], an eloquent man, and a man of learning, so far as I can judge, not being learned myself, came down upon us astonishingly.  He spoke in what the ‘Baltimore American’ calls the “scathing and withering style.”  At the end of his second severe flash I was struck blind, and found myself feeling with my fingers for an assurance of my continued existence.  A little of the bone was left, and I gradually revived.  He eulogized Mr. Clay in high and beautiful terms, and then declared that we had deserted all our principles, and had turned Henry Clay out, like an old horse, to root.  This is terribly severe.  It cannot be answered by argument—­at least I cannot so answer it.  I merely wish to ask the gentleman if the Whigs are the only party he can think of who sometimes turn old horses out to root.  Is not a certain Martin Van Buren an old horse which your own party have turned out to root? and is he not rooting a little to your discomfort about now?  But in not nominating Mr. Clay we deserted our principles,