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In 1800 he was appointed secretary of state, an office which he held but a few months. He was appointed chief-justice of the Supreme Court of the United States, January 31, 1801; not only without his own solicitation, (for he had in fact recommended another to the office,) but by the prompt and spontaneous choice of President Adams, upon his own unassisted judgment. The nomination was unanimously confirmed by the Senate. How well he filled that office is known to his countrymen. We shall not attempt to protract our account of the last thirty-five years of Judge Marshall's life. It was spent in the diligent and upright, as well as able discharge of his official duties; sometimes presiding in the Supreme Court at Washington, sometimes assisting to hold the circuit federal courts in Virginia and North Carolina. His residence was in Richmond, whence it was his frequent custom to walk out, a distance of three or four miles, to his farm. He had also a farm in his native county, Fauquier, which he annually visited, and where he always enjoyed a delightful intercourse with numerous relations and friends. Twice in these thirty-five years, he may be said to have mingled in political life; but not in party politics. In 1828 he was a member of a convention, held in Charlottesville, to devise a system of internal improvement for the state, to be commended to the legislature. In 1829 he was a member of the convention to revise and amend the state constitution, where he delivered a speech regarded as an unrivalled specimen of lucid and conclusive reasoning.

"No man more highly relished social, and even convivial enjoyments. He was a member of a club which for forty-eight summers has met once a fortnight near Richmond, to pitch quoits and mingle in relaxing conversation; and there was not one more delightedly punctual in his attendance at these meetings, or who contributed more to their pleasantness; scarcely one who excelled him in the manly game, from which theQuoit Club' drew its designation. He would hurl his iron ring of two pounds weight, with rarely erring aim, fifty-five or sixty feet; and at some chef-d'œuvre of skill in himself or his partner, would spring up and clap his hands with all the light-hearted enthusiasm of boyhood. Such is the old age which follows a temperate, an innocent, and a useful life."

Chief-Justice Marshall died at Philadelphia, July 6th, 1835, in his 80th year. "The love of simplicity and dislike of ostentation, which had marked his life, displayed itself also in his last days. Apprehensive that his remains might be encumbered with the vain pomp of a costly monument, and a laudatory epitaph, he, only two days before his death, directed the common grave of himself and his consort, to be indicated by a plain stone, with this simple and modest inscription:"

JOHN MARSHALL, son of THOMAS and MARY MARSHALL, was born on the 24th of September, 1755; intermarried with MARY WILLIS AMBLER the 3d of January, 1783; departed this life the day of

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This unostentatious inscription, with the blanks only filled, is carved on the plain white marble monument erected over his remains, in the grave-yard at Shoccoe Hill, Richmond.

The late Francis W. Gilmer, a young man of the finest promise, of whom it is said, "had he not prematurely been cut off by the hand of death, would have ranked with the foremost men of his age and country," thus described the intellectual character of Judge Marshall :

His mind is not very richly stored with knowledge; but it is so creative, so well organized by nature, or disciplined by early education, and constant habits of systematic thinking, that he embraces every subject with the clearness and facility of one prepared by previous study to comprehend and explain it. So perfect is his analysis, that he extracts the whole matter, the kernel of inquiry, unbroken, clean, and entire. In this process, such are the instinctive neatness and precision of his mind, that no superfluous thought, or even word, ever presents itself, and still he says every thing that seems appropriate to the subject. This perfect exemption from needless incumbrance of matter or ornament, is in some degree the effect of an aversion to the labor of thinking. So great a mind, perhaps, like large bodies in the physical world, is with difficulty set in motion. That this is the case with Mr. Marshall's, is manifest from his mode of entering on an argument, both in conversation and in public debate. It is difficult to rouse his faculties; he begins with reluctance, hesitation, and vacancy of eye; presently, his articulation becomes less broken, his eye more fixed, until, finally, his voice is full, clear, and rapid; his manner bold, and his whole face lighted up, with the mingled fires of genius and passion; and he pours forth the unbroken stream of eloquence, in a current deep, majestic, smooth, and strong. He reminds one of some great bird, which flounders and flounces on the earth for a while, before it acquires impetus to sustain its soaring flight.

The foregoing memoir of Marshall is abridged from an exceedingly interesting one in the Southern Literary Messenger for February, 1836, which is partly original and partly compiled from the eulogies on his life and character, by Horace Binney, Judge Story, and Edgar Snowden. We have, in addition, collected a few reminiscences and anec. dotes from different gentlemen, of high respectability, which we presume to be authentic: Marshall was noted for extreme plainness of person and address, and a child-like sim

plicity of character. His carelessness of his personal attire, in early life particularly, is well known, and on one occasion, (as stated in the Literary Messenger,) while travelling, occasioned his being refused admittance into a public house. On the occasion which we are now to relate, it caused him the loss of a generous fee. Marshall, when just rising on the professional ladder, was one morning strolling through the streets of Richmond, attired in a plain linen roundabout and shorts, with his hat under his arm, from which he was eating cherries, when he stopped in the porch of the Eagle hotel, indulged in some little pleasantry with the landlord, and then passed on. Mr. P., an elderly gentleman from the country, then present, who had a case coming on before the court of appeals, was referred by the landlord to Marshall, as the best advocate for him to employ; but the careless, languid air of the young lawyer, had so prejudiced Mr. P. that he refused to engage him. On entering court, Mr. P. was a second time referred by the clerk of the court, and a second time he declined. At this moment entered Mr. V., a venerable-looking legal gentlemen, in a powdered wig and black coat, whose dignified appearance produced such an impression on Mr. P. that he at once engaged him. In the first case which came on, Marshall and Mr. V. each addressed the court. The vast inferiority of his advocate was so apparent, that at the close of the case, Mr. P. introduced himself to young Marshall, frankly stated the prejudice which had caused him, in opposition to advice, to employ Mr. V.; that he extremely regretted his error, but knew not how to remedy it. He had come into the city with one hundred dollars, as his lawyer's fee, which he had paid, and had but five left, which, if Marshall chose, he would cheerfully give him, for assisting in the case. Marshall, pleased with the incident, accepted the offer, not, however, without passing a sly joke at the omnipotence of a powdered wig and black coat.

Marshall was accustomed to go to market, and frequently unattended. "Nothing was more usual than to see him returning at sunrise, with poultry in one hand and vegetables in the other." On one of these occasions, a would-be fashionable young man from the North, who had recently removed to Richmond, was swearing violently because he could hire no one to take home his turkey. Marshall stepped up, and ascertaining of him where he lived, replied, "That is my way, and I will take it for you." When arrived at his dwelling, the young man inquired, "What shall I pay you?" "Oh, nothing," was the rejoinder, "you are welcome; it was on my way, and no trouble." "Who is that polite old gentleman who brought home my turkey for me?" inquired the other of a by-stander, as Marshall stepped away. "That," replied he, "is John Mar. shall, Chief-Justice of the United States." The young man, astounded, exclaimed, "Why did he bring home my turkey?" "To give you a severe reprimand, and learn you to attend to your own business," was the answer.

The venerable Capt. Philip Slaughter, now (May, 1844) living in Culpeper, was a messmate of Marshall's in the revolution. He says Marshall was the best tempered man he ever knew. During their sufferings at Valley Forge, nothing discouraged, nothing disturbed him; if he had only bread to eat it was just as well; if only meat it made no difference. If any of the officers murmured at their deprivations, he would shame them by good-natured raillery, or encourage them by his own exuberance of spirits. He was an excellent companion, and idolized by the soldiers and his brother officers, whose gloomy hours were enlivened by his inexhaustible fund of anecdote.

For sterling honesty no man ever exceeded Marshall. He never would, knowingly, argue in defence of injustice, or take a legal advantage at the expense of moral honesty. A case of the latter is in point. He became an endorser on a bond amounting to several thousand dollars. The drawer failed, and Marshall paid it, although he knew it could be avoided, inasmuch as the holder had advanced the amount at more than legal interest.

He possessed a noble generosity. In passing through Culpeper, on his way to Fauquier, he fell in company with Mr. S., an old fellow-officer in the army of the revolution. In the course of conversation, Marshall learned that there was a lien upon the estate of his friend to the amount of $3000, about due, and he was greatly distressed at the prospect of impending ruin. On bidding farewell, Marshall privately left a check for the amount, which being presented to Mr. S. after his departure, he, impelled by a chivalrous independence, mounted, and spurred on his horse until he overtook his friend. He thanked him for his generosity, but refused to accept it. Marshall strenuously persisted in its acceptance, and the other as strongly persisted in not accepting. Finally it resulted in a compromise, by which Marshall took security on the lien, but never called for pay.

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GEN. SIMON KENTON was born in this county, May 15th, 1755. His parentage was humble, and his education was entirely neglected. At the early age of 16, he became entangled in the snares of a young coquette, and soon had a severe battle with a rival by the name of Leitchman. Supposing he had killed him, he fled to Kentucky, and became one of the boldest pioneers of that then wilderness country, and one of the bravest that ever encountered the wiles of the Indians. His life was one of eventful incident. On being taken prisoner by them, on one occasion, he was eight times exposed to the gauntlet-three times tied to the stake to be burnt, and often thought himself on the eve of a terrible death. But Providence at last interposed in his favor, and he escaped. He was a spy in Dunmore's war. He acted in the same capacity under the gallant Col. George Rogers Clarke, in the revolution. He shared in Wayne's victory, and distinguished himself through the whole of the Indian wars of that day. He died in Ohio, in 1837, aged 82. His once gigantic form was broken by age; and his last days, it is said, were spent in poverty and neglect.

FAYETTE.

FAYETTE was formed in 1831, from Logan, Greenbrier, Nicholas, and Kanawha. Its greatest length is 47 miles; greatest width 30. New River, a main branch of the Great Kanawha, runs through the county its whole length. Much of the surface of the county is mountainous. The principal mountains are the Gauley, (a continuation of Cumberland mountain,) Big and Little Sewel. The great turnpike through the Kanawha valley passes over some of the most lofty of these mountains. "There are extensive bodies of good arable land, in some places partaking of the character of what along the Alleghany mountains is denominated glades, and in the west, prairies. The average price of unimproved, or wild lands of good quality, is one dollar per acre. We are satisfied that these lands, in point of natural fertility, and adaptation to the culture of grain, grasses, fruits, &c., is superior to the best counties east of the Blue Ridge." Pop., whites 3,773, slaves 133, free colored 18; total 3,924.

Fayetteville, the county-seat, is 289 miles westerly from Richmond, and contains a few dwellings. The turnpike leading from Charleston, on the south side of the Kanawha River, passes through the place, and terminates at the Red Sulphur Springs in Monroe county. Gauley Bridge is situated at the falls of the Great Kanawha, just below the junction of the Gauley and New Rivers, 36 miles above Charleston. There are here a store or two and several mills. The Kanawha at this spot is 500 yards wide, and has a fall of 22 feet over a ledge of rocks extending entirely across the stream. This is one of the wildest and most picturesque regions of the state. It is the last navigable point on the Kanawha, and presents one of the best sites for machinery in Virginia. A traveller who visited these falls, thus describes his impressions:

We reached the hotel at which we were to pause, about midnight. It is near to the Kanawha Falls; and from the beauty of the neighborhood has many visitors. I took a hasty cup of coffee, and weary as I was, went with another gentleman to see the Falls. We could hear them in the distance; but we had to go round in order to reach them. The chief of our way was over shattered rock, offering a good access by day, but re

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quiring care at night, from the sharp pitches of some parts, and from the numerous circular holes bored in them by the eddies of the water. They are not to be spoken of with Niagara, or even with Shauffausen, but the whole scene was striking and interesting, the more so, undoubtedly, in the still hour of night. I seated myself on a shelf of rock whence the waters made their principal leap. Darkness had spread its curtain on the sleeping objects in the distance. The pale moon had run her race, and was just falling behind the hills; her last lights fell faintly on my face and the head of waters, but left the precipices and pools before me in heavy shadows. At my feet the river was dashing, and lifting up its voice from the depths beneath to Him who holds the waters in the hollow of his hand. It had done so for ages past; it would do so for ages to come. Here the poor Indian had stood, but will never stand again, thinking he heard in those waters the voice of Deity, and gazing on the face of that orb with wonder, till the spirit of worship was stirred within him. Here also I stood, and shall never stand again, wistfully looking through the visible and audible to the unseen but present object of adoration and praise.

On New River, along which passes the Kanawha turnpike, and within 10 m. of its junction with the Gauley, the traveller passes by the summit of a high cliff of rocks, long known as the Hawk's Nest, but more recently called Marshall's Pillar, in honor of the late venerable chief-justice, who, as one of the state commissioners in 1812, stood upon its fearful brink, and sounded its exact depth to the river margin, which is about 1000 ft. Standing upon the verge of this precipice, the river, diminished by distance in the deep valley below to a silvery thread between two borders of green, appears to wash the base of the cliff; yet it requires a powerful arm to cast a stone into its waters. The sublime and elevating emotions which this scene is calculated to inspire, are given in the following chaste and beautiful language of a foreign traveller:

We returned to the inn. I had an hour and a half of rest; and was found with my companions on the way, soon after 3 o'clock. Most of the company showed that they had only been awakened, like a child, to be put in a new position, and their heads were nodding about in all directions. About 7 o'clock, however, we approached a spot which is of great reputed beauty, and we pledged the coachman to stop, that we might have a fair sight of it. You leave the road by a little by-path, and after pursuing it for a short distance, the whole scene suddenly breaks upon you. But how shall I describe it? The great charm of the whole is greatly connected with the point of sight, which is the finest imaginable. You come suddenly to a spot which is called the Hawk's Nest. It projects on the scene, and is so small as to give standing to only some half dozen persons. It has on its head an old picturesque pine; and it breaks away at your feet abruptly and in perpendicular lines, to a depth of more than 1000 feet. On this standing, which, by its elevated and detached character, affects you like the Monument, the forest rises above and around you. Beneath and before you is spread a lovely valley. A peaceful river glides down it, reflecting, like a mirror, all the lights of heaven-washes the foot of the rocks on which you are standing-and then winds away into another valley at your right. The trees of the wood, in all their variety, stand out on the verdant bottoms, with their heads in the sun, and casting their shadows at their feet; but so diminished, as to look more like the pictures of the things than the things themselves. The green hills rise on either hand and all around, and give completeness and beauty to the scene; and beyond these appears the gray outline of the more distant mountains, bestowing grandeur to what was supremely beautiful. It is exquisite. It conveys to you the idea of perfect solitude. The hand of man, the foot of man, seem never to have touched that valley. To you, though placed in the midst of it, it seems altogether inaccessible. You long to stroll along the margin of those sweet waters, and repose under the shadows of those beautiful trees; but it looks impossible. It is solitude, but of a most soothing, not of an appalling character-where sorrow might learn to forget her griefs, and folly begin to be wise and happy.