ners, but as I sat near him at the Revere House dinner, I overheard enough of his private conversation with Holmes of South Carolina, to satisfy me that he had a relish for coarse remarks, if they had in them a flavor of wit or humor.
The old controversy between John Quincy Adams, and the Federalists of Boston, once saved me, and helped me to escape from a position in which I found myself by an indiscretion in debate. In 1843 the office of Attorney-General was abolished, by the active efforts of the Democrats aided by the passiveness of the Whigs. The Democrats thought the office unnecessary, the Whigs were content to have it abolished, that the party might get rid of the incumbent, James T. Austin. At a subsequent session of the Judiciary Committee, of which George Lunt was a member, he reported a bill for the establishment of the office. Mr. Lunt was a poet, a lawyer, and a politician, and without excellence in either walk. In public life he was destitute of the ability to adapt himself to his surroundings. In those days the farmers constituted a majority of the House. They were generally men of intelligence, and they held about the same relation to the business of the House, that juries hold to the business of the Courts. They listened to the arguments, reasoned upon the case, and not infrequently the decision was made by them. Occasionally they gave a verdict upon a party question, adverse to the arguments of the leaders of the party in power. In his opening argument, Mr. Lunt was unwise, to a degree unusual even for him.
The question he maintained was one which lawyers alone were competent to understand, and he also maintained that the majority of the House ought to accept their views. “The question” said he “is sui generis.”
I was opposed to the bill. At that time Richard Fletcher, then recently a member of Congress, had been engaged in a controversy with the Boston Atlas, a leading organ of the
