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Ahaulin' ribbins from his chops so quick you

skeercely see 'em,) About the Anglo-Saxon race (an” saxons would

be handy To du the buryin' down here upon the Rio

Grandy), About our patriotic pas an’ our star-spangled

banner, Our country's bird alookin' on an' singin' out

hosanner, An' how he (Mister B. himself) wuz happy fer

Ameriky, I felt, ez sister Patience sez, a leetle mite hister

icky. I felt, I swon, ez though it wuz a dreffle kind o’

privilege Atrampin'round thru Boston streets among the

gutter's drivelage; I act'lly thought it wuz a treat to hear a little

drummin', An' it did bonyfidy seem millanyum wuz acom

lin' Wen all on us got suits (darned like them wore in

the state prison) An' every feller felt ez though all Mexico wuz

hisn. *

This 'ere's about the meanest place a skunk could (Saltillo's Mexican, I b’lieve, fer wut we call

wal diskiver

*it must be aloud that thare's a streak o' nater in lovin' sho, but it sartinly is 1 of the curusest things in nater to see a rispecktable dri goods dealer (deekon off a chutch mayby) a riggin' himself out in the Weigh they du and struttin'round in the Reign aspilin' his trowsis and makin’ wet goods of himself. Ef any thin's foolisher and moor dicklus than militerry gloary it is milishy gloary.-H. B.

Salt-river); The sort o' trash a feller gits to eat doos beat all

nater, I'd give a year's pay fer a smell o' one good blue

nose tater; The country here thet Mister Bolles declared to be

so charmin' Throughout is swarmin' with the most alarmin' kind

o' varmin'.

He talked about delishis froots, but then it wuz a

wopper all, The holl on't 's mud an' prickly pears, with here

an' there a chapparal; You see a feller peekin' out, an', fust you know, a

lariat Is round your throat an' you a copse, 'fore you can

say, “ Wut air ye at ?"* You never see sech darned gret bugs (it may not

be irrelevant To say I've seen a scarabæus pilularius † big ez a

year old elephant,) The rigiment come up one day in time to stop a

red bug From runnin' off with Cunnle Wright,—'t wuz jest

a common cimex lectularius.

One night I started up on eend an' thought I wuz

to hum agin,

* these fellers are verry proppilly called Rank Heroes, and the more tha kill the ranker and more Herowick tha bekum.-H. B.

t it wuz “tumblebug” as he Writ it, but the parson put the Latten instid. i sed tother maid better meeter, but he said tha was eddykated peepl to Boston and tha wouldn't stan' it no how. idnow as tha wood and idnow as tha wood.-H. B. VOL. II.



I heern a horn, thinks I it's Sol the fisherman hez

come agin, His bellowses is sound enough,—ez I'm a livin’

creeter, I felt a thing go thru my leg,—'twuz nothin' more

'n a skeeter! Then there's the yaller fever, tu, they call it here

el vomito,(Come, thet wun't du, you landcrab there, I tell ye

to le' go my toe! My gracious! it's a scorpion thet's took a shine to

play with't, I darsn't skeer the tarnal thing fer fear he'd run

away with't.) Afore I come away from hum I hed a strong per

suasion Thet Mexicans worn't human beans,*-an ourang

outang nation, A sort o' folks a chap could kill au' never dream

on't arter, No more'n a feller'd dream o' pigs thet he hed

hed to slarter; I'd an idee thet they were built arter the darkie

fashion all, An' kickin' colored folks about, you know,'s a

kind o’national; But wen I jined I wornt so wise ez thet air queen

o' Sheby, Fer, come to look at 'em, they aint much diff'rent

from wut we be, An’ here we air ascrougin' 'em out o'thir own


* he means human beins, that's wut he means. i spose he kinder thought tha wuz human beans ware the Xisle Poles comes from.-H. B.

Ashelterin' 'em, ez Caleb sez, under our eagle's

pinions, Wich means to take a feller up jest by the slack o'

's trowsis An’ walk him Spanish clean right out o' all his

homes an' houses; Wal, it doos seem a curus way, but then hooraw

fer Jackson ! It must be right, fer Caleb sez it's reg'lar Anglo


up airly,)

The Mex'cans don't fight fair, they say, they piz'n

all the water, An' du amazin' lots o' things thet isn't wut they

ough' to; Bein' they haint no lead, they make their bullets

out o' copper An’ shoot the darned things at us, tu, wich Caleb v

sez aint proper; He sez they'd ough' to stan’ right up an' let us pop

'em fairly, (Guess wen he ketches 'em at thet he'll hev to git Thet our nation's bigger'n theirn an’ so its rights

air bigger, An’thet it's all to make 'em free thet we air pullin'

trigger, Thet Anglo Saxondom's idee's abreakin' 'em to

pieces, An' thet idee's thet every man doos jest wut he

damn pleases ; Ef I don't make his meanin' clear, perhaps in some respex


can, I know thet “every man ” don't mean a nigger or

a Mexican; An' there's another thing I know, an’ thet is, ef

these creeturs, Thet stick an Anglosaxon mask onto State-prison



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Should come to Jaalam Centre fer tơ argify an'

spout on't, The gals 'ould count the silver spoons the minnit

they cleared out on't.

may state

well now,


This goin' ware glory waits ye haint one agreeable

feetur, An' ef it worn't fer wakin' snakes, I'd home agin

short meter;
O, wouldn't I be off, quick time, ef't worn't thet

I wuz sartin
They'd let the daylight into me to pay me fer

desartin !
I don't approve o' tellin' tales, but jest to you I
Our ossifers aint wut they wuz afore they left the

Then it wuz “ Mister Sawin, sir, you're middlin'

Step up an' take a nipper, sir; I'm drefle glad to

see ye”; But now it's “Ware's my eppylet ? here, Sawin,

step an' fetch it! An' mind your eye, be thund’rin’ spry, or, damn

ye, you shall ketch it!” Wal, ez the Doctor sez, some pork will bile so, but

by mighty, Ef I hed somé on 'em to hum, I'd give 'em linkum

vity, I'd play the rogue's march on their hides an' other

music follerin But I must close my letter here, fer one on' em's

ahollerin', These Anglosaxon ossifers,—wal, taint no

ajawin', I'm safe enlisted fer the war,




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