From the Loltiisiana Courier.
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From hbe Lolisidaa Courier CLAY AND FRELINGHUYSEN, .4 bad Par0dy on a io0rse subject.

 BY pR. wAppLE. A whigite to the White-House bound. Cried, people, do not tary, And l will give thee measures sound, If your votes can carry. Now who be ye would climb so high Mid freedoms sons arising ?-- Oh Pm the chief of whiggefy, And this is Frelinghuysen. And long and bold to freedoms sons We two have lied together, And should the Locos beat us now, Our party's dead forever. Out spoke the hardy yeoman bold, We'll go, old Clay, we're ready Your dastard lies we've long been told, And now we'll surely head yc. And by our word We will be heard, Nor ireemen longer tarry-- So though the whigs are striving hard, We'll beat you, federal Harry. By this the votes went on apace; The people thus were speaking, And soon each brazen federal face Crew mortal dark and sncaking, These men have left homestead shade, To lead the strife before them, And now too strong for federal aid, The Polldtes gather OCT them. But still they strive amidst the rush Of Locos fast prevailing The Clayites see their day is gone, And hopes are changed to wailing. Come back come back the whiggies cry Adown this water rising, And we'll ne'er seek to raise 50 high, Old Clay and frelinghuysen. Twas vain! the people voted right, Return or aid preventing The waters then went OCT their men, And koous were left lanenting. 