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tics, and to be used and enjoyed as their proper spoils--strikes a
fatal blow at the very vitals of free institutions.

FOOTNOTE:

[8] William L. Marcy of New York, in the Senate, 1831.

NATHANIEL BEVERLEY TUCKER.

~1784=1851.~

BEVERLEY TUCKER, as he is usually known, was the son St. George Tucker
and half-brother to John Randolph of Roanoke. He was born at
Williamsburg, Virginia, educated at William and Mary College, and
studied law. From 1815 to 1830 he lived in Missouri and practiced his
profession with great success. He returned to Virginia, and became in
1834 professor of Law in William and Mary College, filling that
position until his death. By his public writings and by correspondence
with various prominent men, he took a leading part in the political
movements of his times.

WORKS.

 The Partisan Leader, a Tale of the Future, by William Edward Sydney.
 George Balcombe, [a novel.]
 Life of John Randolph, [his half-brother.]
 Essays, [in Southern Literary Messenger.]
 Political Science.
 Principles of Pleading.

Of Judge Tucker's style, his friend, Wm. Gilmore Simms, with whom he
long corresponded, says: "I regard him as one of the best prose
writers of the United States."

His novel, "The Partisan Leader," made a great sensation. It was
published in 1836; the story was laid in 1849, and described
prophetically almost the exact course of events in 1861. It was
suppressed for political reasons, but was reprinted in 1861 as a "Key
to the Disunion Conspiracy." The extract is from the beginning of the
book and introduces us at once to several interesting characters amid
the wild scenery of our mountains.

THE PARTISAN LEADER, (WRITTEN IN 1836).

 [The scene is laid in Virginia, near the close of the
 year 1849. By a long series of encroachments by the
 federal government on the rights and powers of the
 states, our federative system is supposed to be
 destroyed, and a consolidated government, with the forms
 of a republic and the powers of a monarchy, to be
 established on its ruins. . . . . . As a mere political
 speculation, it is but too probably correct. We trust
 that a benign Providence will so order events as that it
 may not prove also a POLITICAL PROPHECY.--Sou. Lit.
 Messenger, Jan., 1837.]

Toward the latter end of the month of October, 1849, about the hour of
noon, a horseman was seen ascending a narrow valley at the Eastern
foot of the Blue Ridge. His road nearly followed the course of a small
stream, which, issuing from a deep gorge of the mountain, winds its
way between lofty hills, and terminates its brief and brawling course
in one of the larger tributaries of the Dan. A glance of the eye took
in the whole of the little settlement that lined its banks, and
measured the resources of its inhabitants. The different tenements
were so near to each other as to allow but a small patch of arable
land to each. Of manufactures there was no appearance, save only a
rude shed at the entrance of the valley, on the door of which the
oft-repeated brand of the horseshoe gave token of a smithy. There,
too, the rivulet, increased by the innumerable springs which afforded
to every habitation the unappreciated, but inappreciable luxury of
water, cold, clear, and sparkling, had gathered strength enough to
turn a tiny mill. Of trade there could be none. The bleak and rugged
barrier, which closed the scene on the west, and the narrow road,
fading to a foot-path, gave assurance to the traveller that he had
here reached the _ne plus ultra_ of social life in that
direction. . . . . At length he heard a sound of voices, and then a
shrill whistle, and all was still. Immediately, some half a dozen men,
leaping a fence, ranged themselves across the road and faced him. He
observed that each, as he touched the ground, laid hold of a rifle
that leaned against the enclosure, and this circumstance drew his
attention to twenty or more of these formidable weapons, ranged along
in the same position. . . . As the traveller drew up his horse, one of
the men, speaking in a low and quiet tone, said, "We want a word with
you, stranger, before you go any farther."

"As many as you please," replied the other, "for I am tired and
hungry, and so is my horse; and I am glad to find some one at last,
of whom I may hope to purchase something for both of us to eat."

"_That_ you can have quite handy," said the countryman, "for we have
been gathering corn, and were just going to our dinner. If you will
only just 'light, sir, one of the boys can feed your horse, and you
can take such as we have got to give you."

The invitation was accepted; the horse was taken in charge by a
long-legged lad of fifteen, without hat or shoes; and the whole party
crossed the fence together.

At the moment a man was seen advancing toward them, who, observing
their approach, fell back a few steps, and threw himself on the ground
at the foot of a large old apple-tree. Around this were clustered a
motley group of men, women, and boys, who opened and made way for the
stranger. He advanced, and bowing gracefully took off his forage cap,
from beneath which a quantity of soft curling flaxen hair fell over
his brow and cheeks. Every eye was now fixed on him, with an
expression rather of interest than of mere curiosity. Every
countenance was serious and composed, and all wore an air of business,
except that a slight titter was heard among the girls, who, hovering
behind the backs of their mothers, peeped through the crowd, to get a
look at the handsome stranger. . . . .

As the youth approached, the man at the foot of the tree arose, and
returned the salutation, which seemed unheeded by the rest. He
advanced a step or two and invited the stranger to be seated. This
action, and the looks turned towards him by the others, showed that he
was in authority of some sort among them. With him, therefore, our
traveller concluded that the proposed conference was to be
held. . . . . . . . . .

He was at length asked whence he came, and answered, from the
neighborhood of Richmond.--From which side of the river?--From the
north side.--Did he know anything of Van Courtlandt?--His camp was at
Bacon's branch, just above the town.--What force had he?

"I cannot say, certainly," he replied, "but common fame made his
numbers about four thousand."

"Is that all, on both sides of the river?" said his interrogator.

"O, no! Col. Loyal's regiment is at Petersburg, and Col. Cole's at
Manchester; each about five hundred strong; and there is a piquet on
the Bridge Island."

"Did you cross there?"

"I did not."

"Where, then?" he was asked.

"I can hardly tell you," he replied, "it was at a private ford,
several miles above Cartersville."

"Was not that mightily out of the way? What made you come so far
around?"

"It was safer travelling on that side of the river."

"Then the people on that side of the river are your friends?"

"No. They are not. But, as they are all of a color there, they would
let me pass, and ask no questions, as long as I travelled due 

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