Worcester daily spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1850-1888, 1860-11-29
From the Baltimore Clipper, 1855.

From the Baltimore Clipper, 1850
Strange Dream of JOhu g. Calhoun.
The following was published several years
ago, and we believe proceeded originally from
the pen OF a Washington letter writer We
revive it on account of its eccentric sgnif.
canoe, and confirmed it to the attention OF the
Charleston Mercury:
The other morning. at the breakfast table
our friend, the Hon. John C. Calhoun, seemed
very much troubled and out of spirits. You
know he is altogether a venerable man, with
a hard, stern, Scotch Irish face, softened in
its expression around the mouth by sort of
sad smile, which wins the hearts of all who
converse with him. His hair is snow white
lie is tall, thin, and angular He reminds you
very much of Old Hickory. That lie is hon.
est no one doubts he has sacrificed to his
tatalism his brightest hopes of political adj.
vancement-has offered up on the shrine of
that necessity which he worships, all that can
excite ambiuon-even the presidency of the
United States.
But to my story. The other morning at
the breakfast table, where |, an unobserved
spectator, happened to be present. Calhoun
was observed to gaze intently at his right hand
and brush il with his left in a hurried md ner.
vous manner He did this so often that it ex-
cited attention. AT length one OF the persons
composing the breakfast party-his name, |
think, is Toombs, and he is a member OF con-
=
the occasion of Mr.. Calhoun's disquietude.
Does your hand pain you % he asked.
To this Mr. Calhoun REPLIED in rather a
Hurried manner, "Pshaw 1t is nothing
Only dream which l had last night, and
which makes me see perpetually Il large, black
spot-like an ink blotch-upOn the back ofmy
right hand. An optical illusion, suppose"
Of course the words excited the curiosity of
the company, but no one ventured to beg the
Of he
asked quietly -
"What was your dream like I'm not very
superstitious about dreams but sometimes
they have good deal of truth in them"
But this was such Il peculiarly absurd
dream, said Mr.. Calhoun, again brushing the
back of his right hand "however if it does
not too much intrude upon the time of our
friends, will relate it to you"
Of course the company were profuse in their
expressions of anxiety to know all about the
dream. In his singularly sweet voice, Mr..
Calhoun related it -
"At a late hour last night as | was sitting
ain my room, engaged in writing, | was aston.
ished by the appearance Of a visitor, who
tered, and without Il word took seat opposite
me, at my table. This surprised me, as | had
given particular orders to the servant that |
should on no account be disturbed. The
manner in which the intruder entered-so
perfectly selfpossessed taking his seat opposite
me without word, as though my room and
all within it belonged to him, excited in me as
much surprise as indignation. AS / raised
my head to look into his features, over the
top Of my shaded lamp, discovered that he
was wrapped in thin cloak. which effectually
concealed his face and features from my view.
And as | raised my head he spoke:
what are you writing, senator from South
Carolina?
did not think of his impertinencc at first,
but answered him voluntarily:
am writing plan for the dissolution of
the American Union (you know, gentlemen,
that l am expected to produce plan of dsso
luton, in the event OF certain contingencies
To this the intruder replied, in the coolest
manner possible =
Senator from South Carolina, will you
allow me to look at your hand your right
hand %
lie rose, the cloak fell, and behed his face
Gentlemen, the sight of that face struck me
like a thunder-clap. 1t was the face OF dead
man. whom extraordinary events had called
back to life. The features were those of Gen.
George Washington; yes, gentlemen, the In
truder was none other than George Washing
ton. He was dressed in the revolutionary cos
tune, such as you see preserved in the Patent
Office"
Here Mr. Calhoun paused, apparently much
agitated. His agitation, need not tell you,
was shared by the company. Toombs at
length broke the embarrassing pause. "Well,
WE'LL what was the issue of this scene z"
Mr. Calhoun resumed =
"Ths intruder, as | have said, rose and
asked to look at my right hand. AS though
| had not the power to refuse, | extended it,
The truth is / felt a strange thrill pervade me
at his touch he grasped it and held it near
the light, thus afording me full time to exam
inc every feature OF his face. 1t was the face
of Washington. Gentlemen, l shuddered as
| beheld the horribly dead-alive look of that
visage. After holding my hand for moment
he looked at Inc steadily, and said, in quiet
way =
"And with this right hand, senator from
Carolina, you would sign your name to pa
per declaring the Union dissolved g.
answered in the affirmative. Eyes, said
l, off certain contingency arises, | will sign
my name to the Declaration of Dissolution" "
But at that moment black botch appeared
on the back of my hand, an inky blotch,
which / seem to see even now. "What is
that" said | alarmed l knew not why, at the
blotch on my hand.
"That," said he, dropping my hand, "is the
mark by which Benedict Arnold is known in
the next world"
He said no more, gentlemen, but drew from
beneath his cloak an object which he laid up
on the tabe-laid it upon the very paper upon
which was writing. That object, gentlemen,
was a skeleton.
"Th4re," said he, "there are the bones OF
Isaac Hayne, who was hung in Charleston by
the British, He gave his life in order to es-
tabsh ;he Union. When you put your name
to Declaration of Dissolution, why you may
as well have the bones of Isaac Iayne before
you he was South Caronian, and so are
you But there was no blotch upon his right
hand"
With these words the intruder left the room.
l started back from the contact with the dead
mans bones, and-awoke. Overworn by la
Dor, l had fallen asleep and been dreaming
"Was it not a singular dream?''
All the company answered in the affirma
tive, and Toombs muttered, Singular very
singular" at the same time looking curiousy
at the back OF his right hand while Mr.
Calhoun placed his head between his hand,
and seemed to be buried in thought
From the London Packet.