THE ATTEMPT TO ASSASSINATE PRESIDENT JACKSON.

TOWARDS the end of January, 1835, Warren R. Davis, a member of the House of Representatives from South Carolina, was dying at his residence in the city of Washington. Though forgotten now, except in his own State, he was a man of note in his day, an able speaker, a member of that clique of Southern politicians whose centre and chief was Mr. Calhoun; but a man so estimable that he was held in respect by many of the opposite party. He appears to have been sincerely persuaded of the truth of Mr. Calhoun's nullification doctrines, and gave them a hearty, honest support.

As he was dying, Mr. Calhoun called to see him. "How are you?" inquired the senator.

"To judge by my own feelings," said Mr. Davis, "much better; but by the countenances of my friends, not."

He then begged to be told the truth respecting his condition, and the physician informed him that he had but a few hours to live. On hearing this, he instantly turned to Mr. Calhoun, and beckoned him to come near his bedside.

"I hear," said he, "they are giving you rough treatment in the Senate. Let a dying friend implore you to guard your looks and words so that no undue warmth may make you appear unworthy of your principles."

The senator was much affected. A day or two after, Miss Martineau, to whom he had told this story, was in the senate-chamber, and observed that, under a very sharp attack by Colonel Benton, he exhibited a degree of patience and moderation that was not usual with him. For two full hours, she remarks, he sat in stern silence, hearing his veracity questioned, not moving a muscle of his countenance; and then

quietly renewing his argument at the point where Benton had interrupted him. She attributed this to the effect of his friend's last admonition.

Mr. Davis dying while Congress was in session, he had a public funeral. The funeral of a member of Congress at the capitol is always a solemn and imposing ceremonial; but peculiar circumstances rendered that of Mr. Davis eminently such. The nullification imbroglio having been settled without bloodshed, there was a prevalent desire to still farther conciliate South Carolina, and show her that the other States still regarded her as a sister, and were disposed to forget and forgive her nullification vagaries. This feeling, added to the general respect entertained for the deceased member, caused a larger attendance than usual of members, judges, cabinet ministers, and other official persons. The president himself resolved to attend, to give a public mark of his love for the State of which he considered himself a native, and to show that much as he abhorred John C. Calhoun, the author of nullification, he had no ill will toward his deluded followers.

The usual solemnities were performed in the hall of the House of Representatives. On the platform sat the speaker of the House and the president of the Senate; below them, in the clerk's seat, was the officiating clergyman. On the floor, in front of the clerk's desk, the coffin was placed. On one side of it were seated the president and his cabinet; on the other were the judges of the Supreme Court and the senators. The members of the House were in their usual seats, and the galleries were crowded with spectators. It was remarked that, in the accidental arrangement of the seats, Andrew Jackson and John C. Calhoun, mortal foes as they were, were so placed that they sat opposite to one another, almost knee to knee. Both were gaunt and sallow with disease or age. They could not look up without seeing what ravages time and excitement had made in one another's countenances since they used to meet as the most cordial of friends. The president, especially, looked so feeble, as he sat leaning on his stick, that many who were near him feared he would not be able to remain until the ceremonies ended. He was then sixty-eight years of age; his