I could git boosted into th' House or Sennit,

Nut while the twolegged gab-machine's so plenty,

'nablin' one man to du the talk o' twenty;

I'm one o' them thet finds it ruther hard

To mannyfactur' wisdom by the yard, An' maysure off, accordin' to demand, The piece-goods el'kence that I keep on hand,

The same ole pattern runnin' thru an' thru,

An' nothin' but the customer thet 's

new.

I sometimes think, the furder on I go, Thet it gits harder to feel sure I know, An' when I've settled my idees, I find 't warn't sheered most in makin' up iny mind;

't wuz this an' thet an' t' other thing thet done it,

Sunthin' in th' air, I could n' seek nor shun it.

Mos' folks go off so quick now in discussion,

All th' ole flint locks seems altered to percussion,

Whilst I in agin' sometimes git a hint, Thet I'm percussion changin' back to

flint ;

Wal, ef it's so, I ain't agoin' to werrit, For th' ole Queen's-arm hez this pertickler merit,

It gives the mind a hahnsome wedth o' margin

To kin' o make its will afore dischargin': I can't make out but jest one ginnle rule,

No man need go an' make himself a fool, Nor jedgment ain't like mutton, thet

can't bear

Cookin' tu long, nor be took up tu rare.

Ez I wuz say'n', I hain't no chance to speak

So's 't all the country dreads me onct a week,

But I've consid'ble o' thet sort o' head Thet sets to home an' thinks wut might be said,

The sense thet grows an' werrits underneath,

Comin' belated like your wisdom-teeth,

gardin

Thet I don' vally public life a fardin'. Our Parson Wilbur (blessin's on his head!)

'mongst other stories of ole times he hed, Talked of a feller thet rehearsed his spreads

Beforehan' to his rows o' kebbige-heads, (Ef 't war n't Demossenes, I guess 't wuz Sisro,)

Appealin' fust to thet an' then to this

I've allus foun' 'em, I allow, sence then About ez good for talkin' to ez men ; They 'll take edvice, like other folks, to keep,

(To use it 'ould be holdin' on 't tu cheap,)

They listen wal, don' kick up when you scold 'em,

An' ef they 've tongues, hev sense enough to hold 'em ;

Though th' ain't no denger we shall lose the breed,

I gin'lly keep a score or so for seed, An' when my sappiness gits spry in spring,

So 's 't my tongue itches to run on full swing,

I fin' 'em ready-planted in Marchmeetin',

Warm ez a ly'ceum-audience in their greetin',

An' pleased to hear my spoutin' frum the fence, Comin', ez 't doos, entirely free 'f ex

pense.

This year I made the follerin' observations

Extrump'ry, like most other tri'ls o' patience,

oak

Dim the fur hillsides with a purplish smoke;

The brooks are loose an', singing to be

trust ;

[Cries of "Thet 's the ticket!"] Give us cash down in ekle laws for all, An' they'll be snug inside afore nex' fall. Give wut they ask, an' we shell hev Jamaker,

Wuth minus some consid'able an acre; Give wut they need, an' we shell git 'fore long

A nation all one piece, rich, peacefle, strong;

Make 'em Amerikin, an' they 'll begin To love their country ez they loved their

sin;

Let 'em stay Southun, an' you've kep'

a sore

Ready to fester ez it done afore.

No mortle man can boast of perfic' vision, But the one moleblin' thing is Indecision,

An' th' ain't no futur' for the man nor state

Thet out of j-u-s-t can't spell great. Some folks 'ould call thet reddikle; do you?

'T was commonsense afore the war wuz thru ;

Thet loaded all our guns an' made 'em speak

So's 't Europe heared 'em clearn acrost the creek;

"They 're drivin' o' their spiles down now," sez she,

"To the hard grennit o' God's fust idee;

Ef they reach thet, Democ'cy need n't

In sunthin', come wut will, thet can't be busted,

An' thet 's the old Amerikin idee, To make a man a Man an' let him be. [Gret applause.] Ez for their l'yalty, don't take a goad to 't,

But I do' want to block their only road to 't

By lettin' 'em believe thet they can git Mor 'n wut they lost, out of our little wit:

I tell ye wut, I'm 'fraid we 'll drif' to leeward

'thout we can put more stiffenin' into Seward;

He seems to think Columby 'd better ect Like a scared widder with a boy stiff

necked

Are 'bout ez mad 'z they wal know how to be ;

It's better than the Rebs themselves

Thet needs a hidin' 'fore he comes to

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Jes' for his private glory an' eclor; 'Nobody ain't a Union man," sez he, "thout he agrees, thru thick an' thin, with me;

War n't Andrew Jackson's 'nitials jes' like mine?

An' ain't thet sunthin like a right divine

To cut up ez kentenkerous ez I please, An' treat your Congress like a nest o' fleas?"

Wal, I expec' the People would n' care, if

The question now wuz techin' bank or tariff,

But I conclude they've 'bout made up their mind

This ain't the fittest time to go it blind, Nor these ain't metters thet with pol'tics swings,

But goes 'way down amongst the roots o' things;

Coz Sumner talked o' whitewashin' one

An' is the country goin' to knuckle down

To hev Smith sort their letters 'stid o' Brown?

Who wuz the 'Nited States 'fore Richmon' fell?

Wuz the South needfle their full name to spell ?

An' can't we spell it in thet short-han'

way

Till th underpinnin' 's settled so 's to stay?

Who cares for the Resolves of '61, Thet tried to coax an airthquake with a bun?

Hez act'ly nothin' taken place sence then

To larn folks they must hendle fects like men?

Ain't this the true p'int? Did the Rebs accep' 'em?

Ef nut, whose fault is 't thet we hev n't kep 'em?

War n't there two sides? an' don't it stend to reason

Thet this week's 'Nited States ain't las' week's treason?

When all these sums is done, with

nothin' missed,

An' nut afore, this school 'll be dismissed.

I knowed ez wal ez though I'd seen 't with eyes

Thet when the war wuz over copper'd rise,

An' thet we'd hev a rile-up in our kettle

't would need Leviathan's whole skin to settle:

I thought 't would take about a genera

tion

'fore we could wal begin to be a nation, But I allow I never did imegine 't would be our Pres'dunt thet 'ould drive a wedge in

To keep the split from closin' ef it could, An' healin' over with new wholesome wood;

For th' ain't no chance o' healin' while they think

Thet law an' gov'ment 's only printer's ink;

I mus' confess I thank him for discoverin'

The curus way in which the States are sovereign;

They ain't nut quite enough so to rebel, But, when they fin' it's costly to raise h—, [A groan from Deac'n G. Why, then, for jes' the same superl'tive

reason,

They 're 'most too much so to be tetched for treason;

They can't go out, but ef they somehow du,

Their sovereignty don't noways go out tu;

The State goes out, the sovereignty don't stir,

But stays to keep the door ajar for her. He thinks secession never took 'em out, An' mebby he 's correc', but I misdoubt; Ef they war n't out, then why, 'n the name o' sin,

Make all this row 'bout lettin' of 'em

in ?

In law, p'r'aps nut; but there's a diffurence, ruther, Betwixt your mother-'n-law an' real mother, [Derisive cheers.] An' I, for one, shall wish they'd all been som'eres,

Long 'z U. S. Texes are sech reg'lar

comers.

But, O my patience! must we wriggle back

Into th' ole crooked, pettyfoggin' track, When our artil'ry-wheels a road hev cut Stret to our purpose ef we keep the rut? War's jes' dead waste excep' to wipe the slate

Clean for the cyph'rin' of some nobler fate. [Applause.]

Ez for dependin' on their oaths an' thet, 't wun't bind 'em mor 'n the ribbin roun' my het;

I heared a fable once from Othniel Starns,

That pints it slick ez weathercocks do

barns:

Onct on a time the wolves hed certing rights

Inside the fold; they used to sleep there nights.

An', bein' cousins o' the dogs, they took Their turns et watchin', reg'lar ez a book;

But somehow, when the dogs hed gut asleep,

Their love o' mutton beat their love o' sheep,

Till gradilly the shepherds come to see

Things war n't agoin' ez they'd ough' to be;

So they sent off a deacon to remonstrate Along 'th the wolves an' urge 'em to go on straight;

They did n' seem to set much by the deacon,

Nor preachin' did n' cow 'em, nut to speak on;

Fin'ly they swore thet they'd go out an' stay,

An' hev their fill o' mutton every day; Then dogs an' shepherds, after much hard dammin',

[Groan from Deae'n G.] Turned tu an' give 'em a tormented lammin',

An' sez, "Ye sha' n't go out, the murrain rot ye,

To keep us wastin' half our time to watch ye!"

But then the question come, How live together

'thout losin' sleep, nor nary yew nor wether?

Now there wuz some dogs (noways wuth their keep)

That sheered their cousins' tastes an' sheered the sheep; They sez, Be gin'rous, let 'em swear right in,

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An', ef they backslide, let 'em swear ag'in ;

Jes' let 'em put on sheep-skins whilst they 're swearin';