Ez thet principle kind o' gits spiled by exposure;
A man thet lets all sorts o' folks git a sight on't
Ough' to hev it all took right away, every mite
on't;

Ef he can't keep it all to himself wen it's wise to,
He aint one it's fit to trust nothin' so nice to.

Besides, ther's a wonderful power in latitude
To shift a man's morril relations an' attitude;
Some flossifers think thet a fakkilty's granted
The minnit it's proved to be thoroughly wanted,
Thet a change o' demand makes a change o' con-
dition,

An' thet everythin''s nothin' except by position; Ez, fer instance, thet rubber-trees fust begun bearin'

Wen p'litikle conshunces come into wearin',Thet the fears of a monkey, whose holt chanced to fail,

Drawed the vertibry out to a prehensile tail;

So, wen one's chose to Congriss, ez soon ez he's in it,

A collar grows right round his neck in a minnit, An' sartin it is thet a man cannot be strict

In bein' himself, wen he gits to the Deestrict,

* The speaker is of a different mind from Tully, who, in his recently discovered tractate De Republicâ, tells us,-Nec vero habere virtutem satis est, quasi artem aliquam, nisi utare, and from our Milton, who says,-"I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks out of the race where that immortal garland is to be run for, not without dust and heat.”— Areop. He had taken the words out of the Roman's mouth, without knowing it, and might well exclaim with Austin (if a saint's name may stand sponsor for a curse,) Pereant qui ante nos nostra dixerint!-H. W.

Fer a coat thet sets wal here in ole Massachusetts, Wen it gits on to Washinton, somehow askew sets.

Resolves, do you say, o' the Springfield Convention ?

Thet's percisely the pint I was goin' to mention ; Resolves air a thing we most gen'ally keep ill, They're a cheap kind o' dust fer the eyes o' the people;

A parcel o' delligits jest get together

An' chat fer a spell o' the crops an' the weather,
Then, comin' to order, they squabble awile
An' let off the speeches they're ferful 'll spile;
Then-Resolve,-Thet we wunt hev an inch o'
slave territory ;

Thet President Polk's holl perceedins air very tory;

Thet the war is a damned war, an' them thet enlist in it

Should hev a cravat with a dreffle tight twist in

it;

Thet the war is a war fer the spreadin' o' slavery; Thet our army desarves our best thanks fer their bravery;

Thet we're the original friends o' the nation,
All the rest air a paltry an' base fabrication;
Thet we highly respect Messrs. A, B, an' C,
An' ez deeply despise Messrs. E, F, an' G.
In this way they go to the eend o' the chapter,
An' then they bust out in a kind of a raptur
About their own vartoo, an' folks's stone-blindness
To the men thet 'ould actilly do 'em a kindness,-
The American eagle, the Pilgrims thet landed,—
Till on ole Plymouth Rock they git finally stranded.
Wal, the people they listen and say, "Thet's the

ticket;

Ez fer Mexico, t'aint no great glory to lick it,

But 'twould be a darned shame to go pullin' o' triggers

To extend the aree of abusin' the niggers."

So they march in percessions, an' git up hooraws,
An' tramp thru the mud fer the good o' the cause,
An' think they're a kind o' fulfillin' the prophecies,
Wen they're on'y jest changin' the holders of
offices;

Ware A sot afore, B is comf'tably seated,
One humbug's victor'ous, an' t'other defeated,
Each honnable doughface gits jest wut he axes,
An' the people-their annooal soft-sodder an'

taxes.

Now, to keep unimpaired all these glorious feeturs
Thet characterize morril an' reasonin' creeturs,
Thet give every paytriot all he can cram,
Thet oust the untrustworthy Presidunt Flam,
And stick honest Presidunt Sham in his place,
To the manifest gain o' the holl human race,
An' to some indervidgewals on't in partickler,
Who love Public Opinion an' know how to tickle
her,-

I

say thet a party with great aims like these

Must stick jest ez close ez a hive full o' bees.

I'm willin' a man should go tollable strong

Agin wrong in the abstract, fer thet kind o' wrong
Is ollers unpop'lar an' never gits pitied,
Because it's a crime no one never committed;
But he mus❜n't be hard on partickler sins,

Coz then he'll be kickin' the people's own shins;
On'y look at the Demmercrats, see wut they've

done

Jest simply by stickin' together like fun;
They've sucked us right into a mis'able war

Thet no one on airth aint responsible for;
They've
ve run us a hundred cool millions in debt,
(An' fer Demmercrat Horners ther's good plums
left yet;)

They talk agin tayriffs, but act fer a high one,
An' so coax all parties to build up their Zion;
To the people they're ollers ez slick ez molasses,
An' butter their bread on both sides with The
Masses,

Half o' whom they've persuaded, by way of a

joke,

Thet Washinton's mantelpiece fell upon Polk.

Now all o' these blessin's the Wigs might enjoy, Ef they'd gumption enough the right means to imploy;

*

Fer the silver spoon born in Dermocracy's mouth Is a kind of a scringe thet they hev to the South; Their masters can cuss 'em an' kick 'em an' wale

'em,

An' they notice it less 'an the ass did to Balaam; In this way they screw into second-rate offices Wich the slaveholder thinks 'ould substract too much off his ease;

The file-leaders, I mean, du, fer they, by their wiles,

Unlike the old viper, grow fat on their files. Wal, the Wigs hev been tryin' to grab all this prey frum 'em

An' to hook this nice spoon o' good fortin' away frum 'em,

An' they might ha' succeeded, ez likely ez not,
In lickin' the Demmercrats all round the lot,

* That was a pithy saying of Persius, and fits our politicians without a wrinkle,-Magister artis, ingeniique largitor venter. -H. W.

Ef it warn't thet, wile all faithful Wigs were their

knees on,

Some stuffy old codger would holler out,— "Treason!

You must keep a sharp eye on a dog thet hez bit you once,

An' I aint agoin' to cheat my constitoounts,”-
Wen every fool knows thet a man represents
Not the fellers thet sent him, but them on the
fence,-

Impartially ready to jump either side

An' make the fust use of a turn o' the tide,—
The waiters on Providunce here in the city,
Who compose wut they call a State Centerl Com-
mitty.

Constitoounts air hendy to help a man in,

But arterwards don't weigh the heft of a pin.
Wy, the people can't all live on Uncle Sam's pus,
So they've nothin' to du with❜t fer better or wus;
It's the folks thet air kind o' brought up to depend
on't

Thet hev any consarn in't, an' thet is the end on't.

Now here wuz New England ahevin' the honor Of a chance at the Speakership showered upon her;

Do you say," She don't want no more Speakers, but fewer;

She's hed plenty o' them, wut she wants is a doer"?

Fer the matter o' thet, it's notorous in town

Thet her own representatives du her quite brown. But thet's nothin' to du with it; wut right hed Palfrey

To mix himself up with fanatical small fry? Warn't we gittin' on prime with our hot an' cold blowin',