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we can get, remembering lactucas non esse dandas, dum cardui sufficiant.—H. W.]

I SPOSE you recollect thet I explained my gennle

views In the last billet thet I writ, 'way down frum Veery

Cruze, Jest arter I'd a kind o’ ben spontanously sot up To run unanimously fer the Presidential cup; O’ course it worn't no wish o' mine, 'twuz ferflely

distressin', But poppiler enthusiasm gut so almighty pressin’ Thet, though like sixty all along I fumed an' fussed

an' sorrered, There didn't seem no ways to stop their bringin'

on me forrerd: Fact is, they udged the matter so, I couldn't help

admittin' The Father o' his Country's shoes no feet but mine

'ould fit in, Besides the savin’ o'the soles fer ages to succeed, Seein' thet with one wannut foot, a pair 'd be more

'n I need; An’, tell ye wut, them shoes 'll want a. thund'rin

sight o' patchin', Ef this 'ere fashion is to last we've gut into o'

hatchin' A pair o’second Washintons fer every new elec

tion,Though, fur ez number one's consarned, I don't

make no objection. I wuz agoin' on to say thet wen at fust I saw The masses would stick to't I wuz the Country's

father-in-law, (They would ha' hed it Father, but I told 'em 't

wouldn't du,

in tu,

Coz thet wuz sutthin' of a sort they couldn't split An' Washinton hed hed the thing laid fairly to his

door, Nor darsn't say 'tworn't his'n, much ez sixty year

afore,) But ’taint no matter ez to thet; wen I wuz nomer

.nated, 'Tworn't natur but wut I should feel consid’able

elated, An' wile the hooraw o'the thing wuz kind o’noo

an' fresh, I thought our ticket would ha’ caird the country

with a resh. Sence I've come hum, though, an' looked round, I

think I seem to find Strong argimunts ez thick ez fleas to make me

change my mind; It's clear to any one whose • brain ain't fur gone in

a phthisis, Thet hail Columby's happy land is goin' thru a

crisis, An' 'twouldn't noways du to hev the people's mind

distracted By bein' all to once by sev'ral pop'lar names

attackted; 'Twould save holl haycartloads o’ fuss an' three

four months o' jaw, Ef some illustrous paytriot should båck out an'

withdraw; So, ez I aint a crooked stick, jest like-like ole (I

SWOW, I dunno ez I know his name)—I'll go back to my

plough. Wenever an Amerikin distinguished politishin

Begins to try et wut they call definin' his posishin, Wal, I, fer one, feel sure he aint gut nothin' to

define ; It's so nine cases out o'ten, but jest that tenth is

mine; And ’taint no more’n is proper 'n' right in sech a

sitooation To hint the course you think 'll be the savin' o' the

nation; To funk right out o' p’lit'cal strife aint thought to

be the thing, Without you. deacon off the toon you want your

folks should sing; So I edvise the noomrous friends thet's in one boat

with me To jest up killock, jam right down their hellum

hard a lee, Haul the sheets taut, an', laying out upon the

Suthun tack, Make fer the safest port they can, wich, I think,

is Ole Zack.

Next thing you'll want to know, I spose, wut argi

munts I seem To see thet makes me think this ere'll be the

strongest team; Fust place, I've ben consid’ble round in bar-rooms

an' saloons Agethrin' public sentiment, 'mongst Demmercrats

and Coons, An’’taint ve’y offen thet I meet a chap but wut

goes in

Fer Rough an’ Ready, fair an' square, hufs, taller,

horns, an' skin; I don't deny but wut, fer one, ez fur ez I could

see, I didn't like at fust the Pheladelphy nomernee;

I could ha’ pinted to a man thet wuz, I guess, a peg Higher than him,—a soger, tu, an' with a wooden

leg; But every day with more an’ more o' Taylor zeal

I'm burnin', Seein' wich way the tide thet sets to office is

aturnin'; Wy, into Bellers's we notched the votes down on

three sticks,'Twuz Birdofredum one, Cass aught, an' Taylor

twenty-six, An' bein'the on’y canderdate thet wuz upon the

ground, They said 'twuz no more'n right thet I should pay

the drinks all round; Ef I'd expected sech a trick, I wouldn't ha' cut By goin' an' votin' fer myself like a consumed coot; It didn't make no diff'rence, though ; I wish I may Ef Bellers wuzn't slim enough to say he wouldn't

trust!

my foot

be cust,

Another pint thet influences the minds o' sober

jedges Is thet the Gin'ral hezn't gut tied hand an' foot

with pledges; He hezn't told ye wut he is, an’so there aint no

knowin' But wut he may turn out to be the best there is

agoin'; This, at the on’y spot thet pinched, the shoe directly

eases, Coz every one is free to ’xpect percisely wut he

pleases : I want free-trade; you don't; the Gin’ral isn't

bound to neither ;

I vote my way; you, yourn ; an' both air sooted to

a T there. Ole Rough an' Ready, tu, 's a Wig, but without

bein' ultry (He's like a holsome hayinday, thet's warm, but

isn't sultry); He's jest wut I should call myself, a kin' o' scratch,

· ez 'tware, Thet aint exacly all a wig nor wholly your own

hair; I've ben a Wig three weeks myself, jest o' this

mod'rate sort, An' don't find them an' Demmercrats so different

ez I thought; They both act pooty much alike, an' push an'

scrouge an' cus; They're like two pickpockets in league fer Uncle

Samwell's pus; Each takes a side, an' then they squeeze the old

man in between 'em, Turn all his pockets wrong side out an' quick ez

lightnin' clean 'em; To nary one on’em I'd trust a secon’-handed

rail No furder off 'an I could sling a bullock by the

tail.

Webster sot matters right in thet air Mashfiel

speech o' his'n ;“ Taylor,” sez he, “aint nary ways the one thet I'd

a chizzen, Nor he aint fittin' fer the place, an' like ez not he

aint No more'n a tough ole bullethead, an' no gret of a But then," sez he, “ obsarve my. pint, he's jest ez

good to vote fer

saint;

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