From the Augusta Chronicle. JOHN c. CALHOUN.
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John c. Calhoun, my jo John,

 l ouce did love the dear; Thou vert my guiding star, John,

 When storms were gathering near, Those days of peril past, John,

 l fain would seek to know, Why to our ancient foes you've gone? John c. Calhoun, my jo Power, like courtesan,

 Is ever dressed in guile: The syren has deceived thee-Van Is whitening in her smile! Ofneasury, talk not to me

 You've jumped the big Jim Crowl No subs could metamorphose thee, John c. Calhoun, my jo. John c. Calhoun, my jo, John,

 Your locks are bleaching fast, And we may meet no more, John,

 To question of the past; Then fare thee well, my jo John,

 The "Weasep thou didst know, 1 fear will prove Lion,

 John c. Calhoun, my jo.