Daily national Democrat., 1861-01-10
CaIhoun's Dream.

its heading,
A SINGULAR STORY.
The following was published several years
ago, and we believe proceeded originally
from the pen of IA Washington letter writer.
We revive it on account of its eccentric sig
nificance
The other morning, at the breakfast table,
our frnd, the Hon. John c. Calhoun, seemed
very much troubled, and out of spirits You
know he is altogether venerable man, with
a hard, stern, Scotch-Irioh 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
IL is tall, thin and and angular. He reminds
you very much of Old Hickory. That he is
honest, no one doubts; he has sacrificed to
his fatalism his brightest hopes of political
advancement-has offered up on the Shrine
of that necessity, which he worships, all that
eau excite 0nbition-eyen the Presidency of
the United States.
But to my story. The other morning at
the breakMst-tahle, where !, an unobserved
spectator, happened to Le present, Calhoun
was observed to gaze frequently at his right
hand, and rub it with his left in hurried
and nervous manner. He did this so often
that 1t excited attention. At length one of
the persons composing the breakfast party
his name, think, is Toombs, and he is a
member of Congress from Georgia-took up
on himself to ask the occasion of Mr.. CAL
houn's disquietude.
"Does your hand pain your he asked
To this Mr.. Calhoun replied in rather
Hurried manncr-"Pshaw! 1t is nothing
Only dream which had last night. and
which makes me see perpetually a large
black spot-like an k-blotch-upon the
back OF my right hand. An optical illusion,
suppose"
OF course these words excited the curiosity
of the company. but no one ventured TO beg
the details Of this singular dream, until
Toombs asked quietly
"What was you dream like? Pm not very
superstitious about Dreams but sometimes
they have n good deal of truth in Them
But this was such 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"
Ot 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:
cat late hour in the evening, as l was
sitting in my room, engaged in writing, was
astonished 10y the entrance of visitor. who
entered and, without a word, took seat OPP
posite 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 selfzpossessed, taking his seat op-
posite me without a word, as though my
room and all within it belonged to him, excl
ted in me as much surprise as Indignation
As | raised my head too look into his feat
ures, over the top of my shaded lamp, | dis
covered that he was wrapped in a thin cloak,
which eifeclually concealed his face and feat
ures from my view. And as raised my head, ,
he spoke"
"What are you a writing, Senator from
South Carolina
81 did not think of his impertinence at first,
but answered him voluntarily
81 am writing plan for the dissolution of
the American Union (you know, gentlemen,
that am expected to produce plan of dis
solution In the event of certain contingent
cies
TO this the intru ,er replied in the cool
est manner possiJlei
Senator from South Carolina, will YOU al
low me to look at your hand-your right
hand
"ne arose, the cloak fell, and l beheld his
face Gentlemen, the sight of that face struck
me like thunder clap. 1t was the face of a
dead man, whom extraordinary events had
called back to life. The features were those
of General George Washington; yes, gentle
men, the intruder was none other than Geo
Washington. lie was dressed in the Revolu-
tonary costume, 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 tn embarrassing pause "Wel
we'll, what was the issue of this scene ?"
Mr. Calhoun resumed
This intruder, as | have said rose and
asked to look at my right hand. AS though
had not the power TO re fuse extended it.
The truth is felt a strange thrill pervade
me at his touch; he grasped it and held it
near the light, thus affordng me full time to
examine eFery feature of his face. 1t was
the face of Washington. Gentlemen, | shud
dered as l beheld the horribly dead alive
look of that yisage After holding my hand
for moment, he looked at me steadily and
said in a quiet way;
And with this right hand Senator from
South Carolina you would sign your name
to paper declaring the Union dissolved?
81 answered in the affirmative Yes
said |, IF "A certain contingency arises, will
sign my name to the Declaration of Dissolu-
ton But at that moment black blotch
appeared on the back of my hand, an inky
blotch, which | seem to see even now. What
is that 2 said |, alarmed, 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
"lIe said no more, gentlemen, but drew from
beneath his cloak an object which he laid up
on the table-laid it upon the very paper
upon WHICH ! was writing. That object,
gentlemen, was a skeleton.
There said he, there are the bones of
Isaac Hayne, who was hung in Charleston
by the British lie gave his life in order to
establish tie Union. When you put your
name to Declaration of Dissolution, why
you may as well have the bones of Isaac
Hayne before you; he was a South Caroli-
nian, and so are you. But there was no
blotch upon lis right hand
with these words the intruder left the
room. | started back from the contact with
the dead mans bones, and-awoke. Over
gown by labor, had fallen asleep and been
dreaming. Was it not a singular dream :"
All the company answered in the afhrma-
tive, and Tcombs muttered, singular, very
singular" at the same time looking curiously
at the back of his right hand, while Mr.. Cal
houn placed his head between his hands, and
seemed buried in thought.
No MAN in his ordinary, everyday mood,
understood life better than Lord Byron, or
was less likely to mix up poetry or passion
with matters Of business. Ills private letters