And So, My Friend, We Approach the End….

Symptoms of a locked jaw. Plain sewing done here


The self-made man, — “Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.” The first certainly was not the lot of Henry Clay, nor was greatness thrust upon him. All the distinction he has acquired was achieved — achieved by his single arm, by his own lofty aims. Such is the self-made man.


Notes:

Only a couple more entries in The national Clay minstrel, and Frelinghuysen melodist: for the presidential canvass of 1844 ; being a collection of all the new popular Whig songs

It’s been a fun ride.  After this perhaps I’ll go on to the election of 1860 and the Lincoln campaign.


Tomorrow:  Henry Clay’s Birth and Boyhood

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One Response to And So, My Friend, We Approach the End….

  1. Pingback: 1844 Whig Songbook Index | Madhouse Manor

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