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LETTER FROM GEORGE WEIR, JR.
(For Frederick Douglass' Paper.)
BUFFALO, NOV. 8th, 1858.
FRIEND DOUGLASS:—The great political stuggle is now over; the blood-thirsty Democratic party has been triumphantly vanquished, and Republicans are destined to rule. Old Erie County, as you see by the returns, has acted her part nobly. Israel T. Hatch, the Democratic candidate for Congress, has been most gloriously defeated; unlike Israel of old, he came to the Red Sea, but the waters would not part. He could not cross; but in the attempt, was swallowed up in the Union gulf, and as Pharaoh of old was buried in the Red Sea, so was "Israel, of Erie," so completely overpowered and buried in the sea of contempt, that I apprehend no power of resuscitation, however strongly applied, will ever be able to "Hatch" him out; and for my part, I have no wish to ever see him Hatch-ed out, but unite my voice with that of our country: to howl a requiem over his departed power, until he, with all the Lecompton host, shall be forever and eternally driven from our halls of legislation, and for aught I care, from the land upon which they apparently only live to desecrate. The nominee of this party for the office of Sheriff, Hon. James Wadsworth, (of the fugative Daniel notoriety,) also shared the same fate of Israel. His extraordinary Vine street letter, when contrasted with his subsequent course, only served as a mill stone cast about his neck, to sink him deeper and deeper in the sea of disappointment. His letter, though written some years ago, and just after the passage of the notorious Fillmore Fugitive Act, was, nevertheless, handled pretty freely in the late campaign, and we think done its part in making up the immense heavy verdict which has just been rendered against him. I presume you have seen the letter referred to. Together with Hatch and Wadsworth, the entire party has suffered defeat. In this city the people acted nobly; our German fellow-citizens rallied by thousands to the support of the Union ticket, and black Democracy was hooted by them on every hand. Lager beer and union, was their watchword, while the canker-eaten Democrats stood appalled at the sight. So compete a revolution never was known in this city. The union received accessions ever from our Irish citizens; the O'Flanigan's, O'Rafferty's and O'Grady's by some act, voluntary of course, left their old party and united with the movement.
The colored voters in goodly numbers, with our venerable friend P. H., the great Sewardite on the lead, fell into the ranks, and the column moved sweeping by onward. The only thing that I have to regret is, that the great
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and good man, Gerrit Smith, was so nearly lost sight of in the contest. But a small number of our people even voted for him.—For my part, I done all the I could for him; I talked, and begged, and urged with all my powers in his behalf. But our people could not be convinced that it was their duty to vote for him. Some, however, did have the moral courage to do so, and I believe that in thus doing their consciences approved the act. I never, for my part, gave a vote with a deeper conviction of my sense of duty, than I did when I cast my vote for that beloved friend of God and humanity, Gerrit Smith. Our friend Watkins, no doubt, had some hand in changing the sentiments of some of our people from Smith to Morgan; at all events, he has the credit of it, (if credit there be in it.) But as I see the Rev. J. Sella Martin (who in our County Convention labored hard and long pouring forth in torrents of burning eloquence, the claims of Mr. Smith upon us for our suffrages) has pitched into the brother, I forbear to smite him. My counsel was Smith, for Governor, and the rest of the Republican ticket.—I had hoped to see Mr. Smith poll a larger vote—such an one as in 1860 or '62 would have gained us a complete and triumphant victory. But the great battle has been fought, the thick smoke of the artillery has nearly passed away, and upon the battle field we behold in countless numbers the dead carcasses of the rank and file of Democracy, while the triumphant banner of Republicanism waves in majest o'er the slain.
Yours, for Freedom,
GEORGE WEIR, JR.