For the United States' Telegraph

	"In the beginning, male and female created he
them." As man and woman, so power and mo-
ney were made for each other. They fall out
and part sometimes, but are sure to make up,
and their reconciliations are apt to be fruitful.
	One of these separations took place about
twenty years ago; but the distresses growing
out of the war, softened the hearts of the parties,
and brought them together again, and from the
"fine delight" of that conjunction sprung the
bank.
	But "it is a wise child," says the old proverb,
"who knows his own father;" and a wise father,
it might be said, who knows his own child. Pow-
er is at this moment quarrelling with his first born
as fiercely as Satan with death at the gate of Hell.
No sooner is Pandemonium broken up, than the
strife commences. Here stands the palpable 
form of the President of the United States, there
the shadowy figure of the President of the Bank,
not unaptly personified by the King of Terror,
whose arrows fly unseen. Each shakes his dart,
and "Hell grows darker at their frown." But
they will not fight. No; they will not fight.
The peace maker is at hand. Power has become
reconciled to money, and the mother will inter-
pose to stay the strife. See where she stands,
with her incestuous brood, the swinish pack that
cluster round her, and harbor in her obscene
wombe, the stockjobbers and kitchen turnspits;
all snarling and yelling, rugging and riving, at
their mother's entrails, and barking now at the fa-
ther, now at the grandsire.
	The intercession will prevail. The mother
will save her father paramour* from the parici-
dal blow, and the King of Terrors will lay aside
his dart, but still wear his crown. His shape
may be somewhat changed, but what is shape to
him who is the same in all shapes?
	Mark my words. The bank-I speak of the
genus, not the individual-will not go down.
The gorged leech may be exchanged for a fresh
one. That will be all.
	How can it be otherwise? The President has
separated himself from the great landed interest, 
and thrown himself into the arms of the moneyed
aristocracy, and they will have a bank. It is not
in money matters alone that they understand the
quid pro quo. This crusade against the south is
indeed undertaken for their benefit; but the
poor old man does not see that. He believes their
co-operation gratuitous, and will think himself
bound to requite it. If, too, at the end of his
present term he wants to be re-elected, he must
look to them for support. If he means to retire,
it is from them he must seek that "honestam mi-
stonem" which may console him under the re-
proach of deserted and betrayed friends. For
either they must have their price, and the bank
is all he has to give. In all else he has already
made himself a beggar by his bounty to them.
Let him give them this, and they will bargain for
an equibalent of support or praise. But will
they pay it? No. When they have served their
turn with him, they will cast him from them as a
thing defiled in the using, and his best fame will
be that of Erostratus. When the Union is a
ruin, he may cast one look on the mischief he
has done, and then go down to his grave--
		To bitter scorn a sacrifice
		And grinning infamy.
	A Friend to State Rights, because a
			Friend to Union