side,

An' them's the sort thet helps me to decide;

Tell me for wut the copper-comp'nies hanker,

An' I'll tell you jest where it's safe to anchor. [Faint hiss.] Fus'ly the Hon'ble B. O. Sawin writes Thet for a spell he could 'n sleep o' nights,

Puzzlin' which side wuz preudentest to pin to,

Which wuz th' ole homestead, which the temp'ry leanto;

Et fust he jedged 't would right-side-up

his pan To come out ez a 'ridge'nal Union

man,

"But now," he sez, "I ain't nut quite so fresh ;

The winnin' horse is goin' to be Sccesh;

Born copper-sheathed an' copper-fastened tu."

"These four years past it hez been tough

To say which side a feller went for; Guideposts all gone, roads muddy 'n' rough,

་

An' nothin' duin' wut 't wuz meant for: Pickets a-firin' left an' right, Both sides a lettin' rip et sight, Life warn't wuth hardly payin' rent for. "Columby gut her back up so, It war n't no use a-tryin' to stop her, War's emptin's riled her very dough An' made it rise an' act improper; 'Twuz full ez much ez I could du To jes' lay low an' worry thru, "Thout hevin' to sell out my copper.

"Afore the war your mod'rit men
Could set an' sun 'em on the fences,
Cyph'rin' the chances up, an' then
Jump off which way bes' paid expenses;
Sence, 't wus so resky ary way,
I didn't hardly darst to say
I 'greed with Paley's Evidences.

[Groan from Deac'h G.

"Ask Mac ef tryin' to set the fence
War n't like bein' rid upon a rail on 't,
Headin' your party with a sense
O' bein' tipjint in the tail on 't,
And tryin' to think thet, on the whoe
You kin' o' quasi own your soul
When Belmont 's gut a bill o' sale on 't
[Three cheers for Grant and Sherman
I sposed thet folks 'onte

Come peace,
like
Their pol'tics done ag'in by proxy

"Ef we 're to hev our ekle rights, 'T wun't du to 'low no competition; Th' ole debt doo us for bein' whites Ain't safe onless we stop th' emission O' these noo notes, whose specie base Is human natur', 'thout no trace O' shape, nor color, nor condition. [Continood applause.]

"So fur I'd writ an' could n' jedge Aboard wut boat I 'd best take pessige, My brains all mincemeat, 'thout no

edge

Upon 'em more than tu a sessige,
But now it seems ez though I see
Sunthin' resemblin' an idee,

Sence Johnson's speech an' veto mes

sage.

"I like the speech best, I confess, The logic, preudence, an' good taste on 't,

An' it's so mad, I ruther guess There's some dependence to be placed on 't; [Laughter.] It's narrer, but 'twixt you an' me, Out o' the allies o' J. Ď.

A temp'ry party can be based on 't.

"Jes' to hold on till Johnson 's thru An' dug his Presidential grave is, An' then!- who knows but we could slew

The country roun' to put in? Wun't some folks rare up when we pull

Out o' their eyes our Union wool
An' larn 'em wut a p'lit'cle shave is!

"O, did it seem 'z ef Providunce
Could ever send a second Tyler?
To see the South all back to once,
Reapin' the spiles o' the Freesiler,
Is cute ez though an ingineer
Should claim th' old iron for his sheer
Coz 't was himself that bust the biler !"
[Gret laughter.]

Thet tells the story! Thet 's wut we shall git

By tryin' squirtguns on the burnin' Pit;

For the day never comes when it 'L du

To kick off Dooty like a worn-out shoe. I seem to hear a whisperin' in the air, A sighin' like, of unconsoled despair, Thet comes from nowhere an' from everywhere,

An' seems to say, Why died we? war n't it, then,

To settle, once for all, thet men wuz men?

O, airth's sweet cup snetched from us barely tasted,

The grave's real chill is feelin' life wuz wasted !

O, you we lef', long-lingerin' et the door,

Lovin' you best, coz we loved Her the

more,

Thet Death, not we, had conquered, we should feel

Ef she upon our memory turned her heel,

An' unregretful throwed us all away To flaunt it in a Blind Man's Holiday!"

My frien's, I've talked nigh on to long enough. tough;

I hain't no call to bore ye coz ye 're

My lungs are sound, an' our own vice delights

Our ears, but even kebbige-heads hez rights.

It's the las' time thet I shell e'er address ye,

But

you 'll soon fin' some new tormentor : bless ye!

[Tumult'ous applause and cries of "Go on !" "Don't stop!"]

Buster, a roistering blade; used also as a general superlative.

Cal'late, calculate.

C.

Cass, a person with two lives.
Close, clothes.

Cockerel, a young cock.

Cocktail, a kind of drink; also, an ornament peculiar to soldiers. Convention, a place where people are imposed on; a juggler's show. Coons, a cant term, for a now defunct party; derived, perhaps, from the fact of their being commonly up a tree. Cornwallis, a sort of muster in masquerade; supposed to have had its origin soon after the Revolution, and to commemorate the surrender of

Darsn't, used indiscriminately, either in singular or plural number, for dare not, dares not, and dared not. Deacon off, to give the cue to; derived from a custom, once universal, but now extinct, in our New England Congregational churches. An important part of the office of deacon was to read aloud the hymns given out by the minister, one line at a time, the congregation singing each line as soon as read.

Demmercrat, leadin', one in favor of extending slavery; a free-trade lecturer maintained in the customhouse.