BOSTON, NOV. 17, 1856.

MY DEAR SIR:—We have quiet at last.— The great political contest is over, and we have lost our President. Everybody here takes the matter coolly; and up to the moment we write, there have been no rejoicings. In this section of the country, we have every thing our own way. We have elected every candidate to Congress, and our State Legislature is Republican. Even old Hunker Boston has elected an entire Republican ticket! The interest in this vicinity seemed to centre on Mr. Burlingame; to defeat him, Irishmen were naturalized by scores, and some of them appeared to be fresh from the emigrant ships. Some, we have heard, , assuming the name of some absentee, and gallantly voting to bind us still together with the chains of slavery. Thank heaven, the black man votes here! Had it not been for this, slavery would have triumphed, and we should have lost our tried friend Burlingame. Every black man in his district, who was entitled to vote, voted for him. Men who were hundreds of miles away from home, were here to vote that day. We learn that some who had recently gone to California, but who are entitled to vote, came home to vote. Some who could not go the Republican platform and ticker, because the party disclaims to be an anti-slavery party, scratched Fremont, but voted for Burlingame. Some black men, we hear, claim the honor of doing more than others, and I do not wonder at it, for it was an honor which every man appeared anxious to claim. Every man was a vigilance, and a rallying committee in himself, and worked faithfully. The pimps of North Street, the cotton merchants of Milk Street, and the aristocrats of Mount Vernon and Beacon Streets all arrayed themselves cheek by jowl to defeat him. The old Whig forgot his tariff, and the Democrat his free trade; their eternal hatred was banished, and all appeared determined to glory in their shame. We are proud to say that this motly group "sunk" on the 4th of November, "to rise no more." Every lover of freedom feels proud of that day's work.

ROCK.