Report appeared, and if we had given it to him instead of Bennett, he would have been the successor of Mayor Woodhull. But in giving it to Bennett for publication one day in advance of Greeley, so exasperated the latter against Carson and ourself, that he attacked the Report like a ferocious bull dog, and slew himself, whose name was hardly whispered in the Mayoralty Convention that soon followed. Alderman Morgan Morgans, (President of the Board of Aldermen,) Alderman Robert H. Hawes, Alderman George H. Franklin, and Mayor Woodhull himself were also candidates. But as they were all severely denounced in Carson’s Report, for discharging culprits without examination or trial, and for other offences common to Aldermen in those days, they were all rejected by the Convention, when the oily Ambrose C. Kingsland entered the arena, and was nominated and easily elected, which proved to be the saddest municipal calamity of that period, as he was in collusion throughout his term with official scoundrels, and made more money than any Mayor who preceded him, as one of our Aldermanic pupils often assured us; and if Kingsland will publicly deny our accusations, we will adduce our informant’s name, and paralyse him. And to be briefly explicit, our informant was connected with Kingsland and Draper’s operations to rob the city of the Gansevoort property. Kingsland’s appointment of Matsell as Chief of Police partially corroborates the assertion of the Alderman who imparted his precious information. Kingsland’s appointment of Matsell was effected thus: According to his custom, with Mayors elect, Matsell invited Kingsland to a ride into the Metropolitan suburbs, on the morning after his election, and in passing a gaudy edifice, the Brandon Chieftain halted and exclaimed: “Kingsland, my boy, is not that a fascinating mansion?” Kingsland crimsoned, and gazed rapiers and scabbards, and in baffled accents, mildly ejaculated in the expressive language of Jemmy Twitcher: “Vell, vot of it?” “O, nothing,—only I thought I would inquire how you enjoyed yourself in its rainbow halls on Friday evening last. And, by the way, how about the appointment of Chief of Police? Have you resolved whom to appoint?” “Certainly I have. You well know my ancient love for you, and that you are my choice for Chief, beyond any being living or dead. I was elected to eject you, but I shan’t do it, my boy. ‘Thou art the man!’ Ha, ha, ha! Give us your hand, old boy. Ha, ha, ha! A very fine day, ain’t it Matsell?” “Kingsland, you have really got a magnificent Palace in the Fifth Avenue, but I think your front parlor requires a five thousand dollar clock, to render it thoroughly gorgeous and enchanting.” “Chief, what in the name of mud are you driving at?” “I am driving for my life to Burnham’s, for his choicest brandy and Ice Cream.”

More delicious Ice Cream next week.

c9

Our Country’s Ruin.

The seed of wide-spread corruption is culminating here, at Albany, and Washington, with the velocity of light, (which is about two hundred thousand miles per second,) which may rend the Union to fragments during the present generation. And the present leaders of parties will be the immediate cause of our country’s downfall, through their sly winks and blinks at the robbers of their respective parties, to seize the public booty to elect their municipal, State, and national officers. Horace Greeley, with all his professions of purity, justice and humanity, will shield an anti-slavery thief at every peril of his conscience, and scourge the thieves of all other parties like Tacitus, or Diogenes, and so will the leaders of the American and Democratic parties. It is not the struggle for the boundaries of slavery and freedom that will rend this Union to atoms, but the miserable, thievish, aspiring, and traffic politicians who use the Negro and Satan, to seize the public treasure and official honors. It is the ungodly grab of lazy men for gilded booty, to enable them to revel in indolence, and control the elections and magic wires of all the parties, that will consummate our dissolution and eternal ruin. And Greeley and Bryant know this, and so does that puritannical, mercenary, penurious, white handkerchief’d, and stiff-necked old Presbyterian, Gerard Hallock, of the Journal of Commerce, and those thieves of thieves, and Catalinian conspirators, and overshadowing plunderers, Simeon Draper and Thurlow Weed, whom God, or man, or fiend should drive to the wilderness, or smite from the face of the earth, and, if possible, from its profoundest bowels. For their stabs at the heart of our free institutions, and their pernicious example to the youth of this generation, they should be hurled from the summit of the Rocky mountains. There is no honor or patriotism in these demons. If there were, they would rally like our Fathers for the preservation of our glorious Union, and the Municipal, State and National Treasuries, whose plunder they counsel and shield in the infamous persons of their political confederates, and share their spoils in darkness, with only the Devil present, but the Great Invisible in the awful distance, whose retribution will be terrible when it comes, beyond the grave; and worms may partially devour their vile carcases, before they die, as with Biddle and Nero, and Caliglula. All leaders of parties are plunderers, and thus directly advocate the subversion of our liberties and the public dishonor. God, alone, from the Revolution to the present hour, has shielded the Americans from foreign and domestic adversaries, with his beneficent arms expanded over our fertile vales, and fields, and plains, and forests, and noble mountains, and has rescued us from the Burrs and Arnolds, and Goths and Vandals, who strive to paralise our progress in a pure and sacred civilization. But our disunion and subversion are as inevitable as the advent of the morning sun, unless some Washington, or Cincinnatus, or Brutus the First come forth, and stab the incarnate devils down, and trample their worthless bodies in the dust. Thieves, rapes, incendiaries, assassins, and traitors teem like the Egyptian locusts throughout our borders, and the odious vices, and bloody strife, and crumbling ruins, and all the horrors and havoc and universal chaos of the Roman Empire, and other ancient States, will be our awful doom, unless the wisdom, and virtue, and firmness of our country rally in the Forum, and impart the principles of integrity and patriotism to the people, and immolate the leading scoundrels and traitors of the age. Thus only can we avert the overshadowing evils that flit like midnight spectres through every street and habitation, and will soon spread through every meritorious fireside. And thus only can we avert the execrations of our posterity, for being recreant to the Roman Fathers of the Revolution, and for not resisting with our lives, the barbarians of the present generation.

Nice and Modest.—The son and son-in-law of Peter Cooper as Mayor and Street Commissioner of the largest city of the Western Hemisphere, worth half a million per annum.

Aminidab Sleek,
(Without a shriek
For freedom,
Or bleed ’em,
Or Sodom,
Or Gotham,)
Could make that sum at least,
And for life have a feast.
The office-holding Coopers
Are worse than the Hoopers,
So fat grow they,
On pap all day,
Throughout the year,
Which seems so queer,
For Reformers,
Or Performers,
Which was always so,
In this vale of