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You needn't try to steal up
You has, sah, for a fac'.
Dar, dat's de way to do it!
Dis nigger ain't no fool.
You mus' reason wid a mule.
He would, I tell youl. Yes, sah!
Whoa dar! Nebuchadnezzar.
Is dis heal me or hot me?.
Hah I been heah more'n a week ?
On de oder side de creek.
SPEECH OF THE HON. PERVESE PEABODY ON THE
ACQUISITION OF OUBA. Feller citizens, gentlemen and ladies, Mr. President: I rise before this august body with phelinks more easily described than ima. gined. Colder than a statooary, more deader nor Julius Caesar, must be the buzzum of him who could look áraound on this here assemblage without emotions big enuf to choke an ox risin' in his throat. As I look araound what dew I see? On the one hand, the magnits and magnitaries of science, on t'other a parfock constellation of beauty in the shape of female women. Sir, sich a specktackle is calkerlated to melt an isuckle or draw tears from a horseshoe. In view of sich scenes, I ax, in the name of Pontius Pilate at the siege of Corinth, "lives there a man with soul so dead as never to hisself has said " this is my kedantry. Mr. Pres. Sir: Altho’ this here society in its more gineral bearings is designed to settle all questions pertainin' to the hull world, and for the perpetooation of the grate principals of human indewrance, as laid down in the Magny Charter, habeas corpus and the forty thievos, yet the question now on hand, to be attended to right away, is annexation in gineral, Cuby in pertikerlar. Sir, what are we? By we, I mean the biggest, the fastest, the moast onmitigated nation on which the sun, from its risin' in the purple chariots of the Oriental hemispheres of the East, to the goin' daoun tharof in the flambient hyfalutins of
the West, shines on. Need I say I allude to the suyrin galaxy of - the onterrified States, which staps afore the world a bacon of light,
conspikerous in the surroundin' darkness as a tarler candle in sullar. I say, sir, What are we? Hark! From the battle-fields of Madawaska on the one hand, and from the amphibeous insyclopedys of the grate Western pararies, swells and busts one universal response-we are Angoly Saxonies, Dimmercratic platitudes and manifest destinies. What do we want ? Sir, we want all them leetle strips of land which jine us, whether unoccupied, except by bares, wolves, shanghies, injuns and howlin' wildernesses, or whether possessed by them what hain't got Angoly Saxony blood a-runnin in their veins. Sir, this is natral. Novy Zembly, Pattygoney, Buzzard Bay, Oysteraly, Pemaquid, Canady, and the two homispheres with lands contigerous, up to 54–49, in the parallels commencin' at a stake and stone in Otistield and runnin thro' the ekynoctial tropic of Apricot and Kansas, the finger of Natur points out as our own. Mr. Pres.: I have taken a heap of pains to get the boundaries right, and I may say, withaout seemin praoud, I am posted up; and I challengo the hull world to prove me wrong in a single figger, unless it be in
regard to Pemaquid, which, lyin' in the seventeenth allegory, and bounded westerly by the Magdelene clouds, and Easterly by the Tom-Bigbee mountains, makes it onsartain whether a bee lide runnin' thro' the kimmerсal underlations of hydergin would strike it. Now sir, whar does Cuby lie? Ef I had a mat of the Universe, a pair of compasses and a yard stick here, I'd pint out the sitooation of that gem of the Cariboo seas and queen of the Antipodes. But as thar hain't but one mat in taown, and that belongs to a federalist, who's an inimy of annexation, and wouldn't lend it, I must give you a verbum rum derscription by word of maouth. Cuby is a perninsuly, entirely surrounded by salt water, lyin' in latitude 482, 2 hours 14 minutes and 43 seconds, Nor by Nor East. Longevity 54-49. Climit permiskerous. Sometimes it's hot. Sometimes tain't. Back in the perraries it's healthy; while, owin' to fogs and rumatiz, the sea coast is so salubrious that nobody but alligators can live thar, except for a short time between the last of June and the furst of July. Proddux: Maple sugar, punkins, tin ware, wooden combs, corkscrews, rum, merlasses and biggers. The inhabitants are mostly black and blue, thro' some is striped. - Habits permiskerous; durin' the hurrycane months (thar ar twelve of them months), percarious. The poorer classes lives on what they can git while they do live, arter that they don't live on nothing. The rich eats sum biled eggs; but their staple and daily dialect is rum and onions, half and half. Mr. Pres.: This here detestable land, literly flowin' with merlasses, and chuck full of likely riggers, is aourn. Yes, sir, it is jist as much ourn as is your horse or your caow, wich has strayed from your paster. Cuby is a stray from this onmitigated Republic. Again I wish I had a mat I could show you that it onst jined on to the State of Maine. By it I could show you how the North shore of Cuby and the coast of Maine would fit together jest like two parts of a broken sarser. Now, sir, if this air hypothecary are correct (and I'd like to see the critter that'll dispute it), why, we've only to prove property and take back our own agin, and if any outlandish furriners darst to say anything, lick 'em. Sir, the time ain't fur off when this devout consummation will become a fixed statoot. That are happy period is comin' on at the rate of eighteen miles an hour, when the streaked banner of our common kcdantry shall wave
in triumph over this lost but recovered jewel from the diaphragm of the E Pluribus Onion. Then, while that almighty specimen of poultry, and most on terrified faowl, the American eagle, roosts in the towers of Moro Castle, we'll lick the merlasses and haze the niggers. Mr. Pres. : Thar is a destiny that shapes our ends, whether we will or whether we won't. Our destiny is a manifest one, and it pints us onmistakably to Cuby and all the 'tother consarns raound about, askin' us to make a long arm and help ourselves.
HALF WAY DOIN'S.
Belubbed fellow trabelers: In holdin' forth to-day,
Dis worl' dat we's a libbin' in is like a cotton row,
When Moses led de Jews acrost de waters ob de sea,
My frien's, dar was a garden once, whar Adam libbed wid Eve,
You all know 'bout de story-how de snake come snoopin' 'roun'-
Now, s'pose dat man and 'ooman hadn't 'tempted for to shirk,
No half way doin's, bredren! It'll nebber do, I say! ...
Keep a ploughin' and a hoein', and a scrapin' ob de rows,
Whateber 'tis you's dribin' at, be shore and dribe it through,
I thanks you for de 'tention you has gib dis afternoon; .