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DEATH OF THE LINCOLN DESPOTISM

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Some days are passed, and pleasantly, upon Bermuda's Isle,

The sun is shining bright and fair, and nature seems to smile;

The breezes moved the British flag that fluttered o'er the Trent,

And the ripples rose to lave her sides, as proudly on she went.

Mason and Slidell, on deck, thought all their dangers past,

And poked each other's ribs and laughed, as they leant against the mast: "Have n't the Yankees just been done uncommonly nice, eh?

They've got most money, but the brains are in the C. S. A.!"

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They coolly said unto their lords, "Our dresses all are new;

What on earth would be the use of going back with you?

And though we're very sorry that your plans are undone,

We mean to pass the winter in Paris and in London.

'Stead of bothering you, and sharing your prison beds and fetters,

We'll write each mail from Europe the most delightful letters;

Tell you of all we've done and seen, at party, ball, or play,

To cheer your hearts, poor martyrs, to cotton and C. S. A."

So the two vessels parted; the San Jacinto

went

To unload her precious cargo, while the captain of the Trent,

Having lost a (probable) douceur which had seemed within his grip,

We presume, for consolation, retired and took a nip.

The ladies talked of the affair less with a tear than smile;

Their lords and masters took their way to Warren's Fort the while;

And gratis lodged and boarded there, they may think for many a day

That brains are sometimes northward found as well's in C. S. A.

The prisoners were taken to Fort Warren, in Boston harbor, and the North went wild with delight. It was understood that Great Britain would have to be reckoned with, but no one seemed to care. Wilkes was complimented and banquetted and lionized, and the House of Representatives gave him a vote of thanks.

DEATH OF THE LINCOLN DESPOTISM

"T WAS out upon 'mid ocean that the San Jacinto hailed

An English neutral vessel, while on her course she sailed;

They sent her traitor Fairfax, to board her with his crew,

And beard the "British lion" with his "Yankee-doodle-doo."

The Yankees took her passengers, and put them on their ship,

And swore that base secession could not give And hold them till Abe Lincoln and all his

them the slip;

Northern scum

But England says she'll have them, if Wash-Shall own our independence of "Yankeeington must fall,

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Doodledom."

Richmond Dispatch.

News of the seizure reached England November 27, 1861. A cabinet meeting was at once held, the act of Captain Wilkes was declared to be "a clear violation of the law of nations," the release of Mason and Slidell was demanded, together with a suitable apology for the aggression. England began to make extensive naval preparations, and eight thousand troops were sent to Canada.

JONATHAN TO JOHN

[December, 1861]

IT don't seem hardly right, John, When both my hands was full, To stump me to a fight, John, Your cousin, tu, John Bull! Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess We know it now," sez he, "The Lion's paw is all the law, Accordin' to J. B.,

Thet's fit for you an' me!"

You wonder why we're hot, John? Your mark wuz on the guns, The neutral guns, thet shot, John, Our brothers an' our sons:

Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess There's human blood," sez he, "By fits an' starts, in Yankee hearts, Though 't may surprise J. B. More 'n it would you an' me."

Ef I turned mad dogs loose, John,
On your front-parlor stairs,
Would it jest meet your views, John,
To wait an' sue their heirs?

Ole Uncle S. sez he, “I guess,
I on'y guess," sez he,

"Thet ef Vattel on his toes fell,

"T would kind o' rile J. B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me!"

Who made the law thet hurts, John, Heads I win — ditto tails? "J. B." was on his shirts, John, Onless my memory fails.

Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess (I'm good at thet)," sez he,

JONATHAN TO JOHN

"Thet sauce for goose ain't jest the juice For ganders with J. B.,

No more 'n with you or me!"

When your rights was our wrongs, John, You did n't stop for fuss, Britanny's trident prongs, John, Was good 'nough law for us. Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess, Though physic 's good," sez he, "It does n't foller thet he can swaller Prescriptions signed 'J. B.,' Put up by you an' me."

We own the ocean, tu, John:

You mus'n' take it hard,

Ef we can't think with you, John,
It's jest your own back yard.

Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
Ef thet's his claim," sez he,
"The fencin'-stuff 'll cost enough
To bust up friend J. B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me!"

Why talk so dreffle big, John,
Of honor when it meant
You did n't care a fig, John,
But jest for ten per cent?

Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
He's like the rest," sez he:
"When all is done, it's number one
Thet's nearest to J. B.,
Ez wal ez t' you an' me!”

We give the critters back, John,

Cos Abram thought 't was right;
It warn't your bullyin' clack, John,
Provokin' us to fight.

Ole Uncle S. sez he, “I guess
We've a hard row," sez he,
"To hoe jest now; but thet, somehow,
May happen to J. B.,

Ez wal ez you an' me!"

We ain't so weak an' poor, John,

With twenty million people,
An' close to every door, John,
A school-house an' a steeple.

Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
It is a fact," sez he,

"The surest plan to make a Man
Is, think him so, J. B.,
Ez much ez you or me!"
Our folks believe in Law, John;
An' it's fer her sake, now,

They've left the axe an' saw, John, The anvil an' the plough.

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Ole Uncle S. sez he, “I guess, Ef 't warn't fer law," sez he, "There'd be one shindy from here to Indy; An' thet don't suit J. B.

(When't ain't 'twixt you an' me!)"

We know we've got a cause, John,
Thet's honest, just, an' true;

We thought 't would win applause, John,
If nowheres else, from you.

Ole Uncle S. sez he, “I guess
His love of right," sez he,

"Hangs by a rotten fibre o' cotton:
There's natur' in J. B.,

Ez wal ez in you an' me!"

The South says, "Poor folks down!" John,
An' "All men up!" say we, —
White, yaller, black, an' brown, John:
Now which is your idee?

Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
John preaches wal," sez he;
"But, sermon thru, an' come to du,
Why, there's the old J. B.
A-crowdin' you an' me!"

Shall it be love, or hate, John?
It's you thet's to decide;
Ain't your bonds held by Fate, John,
Like all the world's beside?

Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
Wise men forgive," sez he,

"But not forgit; an' some time yit
Thet truth may strike J. B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me!"

God means to make this land, John,
Clear thru, from sea to sea,
Believe an' understand, John,
The wuth o' bein' free.

Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
God's price is high," sez he;
"But nothin' else than wut he sells
Wears long, an' thet J. B.
May larn, like you an' me!"
JAMES RUSSEll Lowell.

England was clearly in the right in her contention; Wilkes's act was disavowed, and Mason and Slidell were delivered to an English steamer at Provincetown. All danger of war with England was for the time being avoided.

A NEW SONG TO AN OLD TUNE

JOHN BULL, ESQUIRE, my jo John,
When we were first acquent,
You acted very much as now
You act about the Trent.

You stole my bonny sailors, John,
My bonny ships also,

You're aye the same fierce beast to me,
John Bull, Esquire, my jo!

John Bull, Esquire, my jo John,
Since we were linked together,
Full many a jolly fight, John,

We've had with one another.
Now must we fight again, John?
Then at it let us go!

And God will help the honest heart, John Bull, Esquire, my jo.

John Bull, Esquire, my jo John, A century has gone by,

Since you called me your slave, John,
Since I at you let fly.
You want to fight it out again

That war of waste and woe;

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You'll find me much the same old coon,
John Bull, Esquire, my jo.

John Bull, Esquire, my jo John,
If lying loons have told
That I have lost my pluck, John,

And fight not as of old;

You'd better not believe it, John,
Nor scorn your ancient foe;
For I've seen weaker days than this,
John Bull, Esquire, my jo.

John Bull, Esquire, my jo John,
Hear this my language plain:
I never smote you unprovoked,
I never smote in vain.

If you want peace, peace let it be!
If war, be pleased to know,
Shots in my locker yet remain,
John Bull, Esquire, my jo!

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