with him who was as potent in the war of wit as he was irresistible by the force of logic. Referring to Henry's question, ‘Why, we the people?’ He said: ‘The gentleman objects to the expression, “We, the people,” and demands the reason why they had not said, “We, the United States of America?” The expression, in my opinion, is highly proper; it is submitted to the people, because on them it is to operate; till adopted it is but a dead letter and not binding on any one; when adopted it becomes binding on the people who adopt it.’ Henry had almost carried the day against the Constitution by one of his mighty outbursts of eloquence when he called attention to the proposed scheme of the surrender of the Mississippi to Spain by the confederation — the day was lost, but, like Blucher at Waterloo, Nicholas came to the rescue of the demoralized advocates of the Constitution. In a splendid arraignment of facts and logic, Nicholas soon marshaled his forces and gained the sympathy and confidence of the house, then turning suddenly to Henry he became the accuser and the aggressor. He exclaimed with impassioned force: ‘By whom was this fearful surrender of the navigation of the Mississippi contemplated? By the gentleman's (with his index finger pointing to Henry) favorite Confederation.’ After the formation of Kentucky as a State, Nicholas made his home there. He devoted his time and attention to politics and farming as well as to political economy. He took great pride and interest in preparing young students in law by his lectures and advice. He was the writer of the Constitution of the State of Kentucky. In the graces and courtesies of social life he was unexcelled and was noted for his generous hospitality. He believed that
Without good company all daintiesHis familiarity with all the great questions of the day, his intimacy with the most prominent men of the period made him a most interesting and instructive conversationalist. He died in Kentucky at the age of forty-four. It is said the mourning and grief of his slaves, by whom he was dearly beloved,
Lost their true relish, and, like painted grapes,
Are only seen, not tasted.