Both candidates are very ambitious men; both profess to be the people’s champion-the sovereign people-the dear people-the noble-hearted people-the iron-handed, unbribable, unterrified democracy-the people from whom all power springs.  The never-flinching, unterrified, irresistible democracy are smothered with encomiums of praise, sounding from all parts of the room.  Mr. Lawrence M’Fadden is ushered into the room to the great joy of his friends:  being a very great man among the loyal voters, his appearance produces great excitement.

Several friends of the candidates, working for their favourites, are making themselves very humble in their behalf.  Although there is little care for maintaining any fundamental principle of government that does not serve his own pocket, Mr. M’Fadden can and will control a large number of votes, do a deal of knocking down at the polls, and bring up first-rate fighting men to do the keeping away the opposite’s constituents.  Thus our man, who has lately been bought as preacher, is most useful in this our little democratic world.

Some two or three hundred persons have collected near a clump of trees on the lawn, and are divided into knots intermixed with ruffian-looking desperadoes, dressed most coarsely and fantastically.  They are pitting their men, after the fashion of good horses; then they boldly draw forth and expose the minor delinquencies of opposing candidates.  Among them are the “Saw-piters,” who affect an air of dignity, and scout the planter’s offer of work so long as a herring runs the river; the “piny woods-man,” of great independence while rabbits are found in the woods, and he can wander over the barren unrestrained; and the “Wire-Grass-Men;” and the Crackers,

Singular species of gypsies, found throughout the State. who live anywhere and everywhere, and whom the government delights to keep in ignorance, while declaring it much better they were enslaved.  The State possesses many thousands of these people; but few of them can read, while never having written a stroke in their lives is a boast.  Continually armed with double-barrel guns, to hunt the panting buck is one of their sports; to torture a runaway negro is another; to make free with a planter’s corn field is the very best.  The reader may imagine this picture of lean, craven faces-unshaven and made fiercely repulsive by their small, treacherous eyes, if he can.  It can only be seen in these our happy slave states of our happy Union.

The time draws near when the candidates will come forward, address the sovereign constituency, and declare their free and open principles-their love of liberal governments, and their undying affection for the great truths of democracy.  The scene, as the time approaches, becomes more and more animated.  All are armed to the teeth, with the symbol of honour—­something so called—­beneath their coarse doublets, or in the waistbands of their pantaloons.  The group evinces so much excitement that belligerents