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care, if

“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'

fieas ? Wal, I expec' the People would n' 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 day They wun't let four years' war be

throwed away: “Let the South hev her rights?” They say,

“ Thet's you ! But nut greb hold of other folks's tu." Who owns this country, is it they or

Andy? Leastways it ough' to be the People

and he ; Let him be senior pardner, ef he's so, But let them kin' o'smuggle in ez Co;

(Laughter.] Did he diskiver it? Consid'ble num

bers Think thet the job wuz taken by Co

lumbus. Did he set tu an' make it wut it is? Ef so, I guess the One-Man-power hez

riz. Did he put thru the rebbles, clear the

docket, An' pay th' expenses out of his own

pocket? Ef thet's the case, then everythin' I Is thev bim come an' pay my ennooal texes.

(Profound sensation.] Was 't he thet shou'dered all them

million guns? Did he lose all the fathers, brothers,

sons ?

Is this ere pop'lar gov'ment thet we A kin' o' sulky, made to kerry one? An' is the country goin' to knuckle

down To hev Smith sort their letters 'stid o'

Brown? Who wuz the 'Nited States 'fore Rich

mon' 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 dis

missed.

with eyes

I knowed ez wal ez though I'd seen 't 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 na

tion, But I allow I never did imegine 'Twould 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;

exes

ink;

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

they think Thet law an' gov'ment 's only printer's I mus' confess I thank him for dis

coverin' 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.1 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 mis

doubt; 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 dif

furence, 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 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.

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 fillo' mutton every day ; Then dogs an' shepherds, after much hard dammin',

[Groan from Deac'n G.) Turned tu an' give 'em a tormented

lainmin',

“Ye sha' n't go out, the mur

rain 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) Thet sheered their cousins' tastes an'

sheered the sheep; They sez., “ Be gin'rous, let 'er swear

right in, An', ef they backslide, let 'em swear

ag'in ; Jes' let 'em put on sheep-skins whilst

they 're swearin'; To ask for more 'ould be beyond ali

bearin'." “Be gin'rous for yourselves, where you

An' sez,

יי !

cut

Ez for dependin' on their oaths an thet, 'Twun't bind 'em mor 'n the ribbin

roun' my het ; I heared a fable once from Othniel

Starns,

're to pay,

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I 've noticed thet each half-baked

scheme's abetters Are in the hebbit o' producin' letters Writ by all sorts o'never-heared-on

fellers, 'Bout ez oridge'nal ez the wind in

bellers ; I've noticed, tu, it's the quack med'

cines gits (An' needs) the grettest heaps o' stiffykits;

[Two apothekeries goes out.) Now, sence I lef’ off creepin' on all

fours, I hain't ast no man to endorse my

course; It's full ez cheap to be your own en

dorser, An' ef I've made a cup, I'll fin' the

saucer; But I've some letters here from t'other

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. 0. 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 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;

You might, las' spring, hev easily

walked the course, 'Fore we contrived to doctor th' Union

horse ; Now we're the ones to walk aroun' the

nex' track : Jest you take hold an' read the follerin

extrac', Out of a letter I received last week From an ole frien' thet never sprung a

leak, A Nothun Dem'crat o' th' ole Jarsey

blue, Born copper-sheathed an' copper-fast

ened tu. “These four years past it hez been

tough To say which side a seller 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 did n't hardly darst to say I 'greed with Paley's Evidences.

(Groan from Deac'n G.

his pan

Ask Mac ef tryin' to set the fence
War n't like bein' rid upon a rail onį,
Headin' your party with a sense
O' bein' tipjint in the tail on 't,
And tryin' to think thet, on the whoia,
You kin' o' quasi own your soul
When Belmont 's gut a bill o'saie on 't:

(Three cheers for Grant and Sherman “Come peace, I sposed thet folks 'oue

like Their pol'tics done ag'in by proxy

Give their noo loves the bag an' strike A fresh trade with their reg'lar doxy; But the drag 's broke, now slavery's

gone, An' there's gret resk they'll blunder on, Ef they ain't stopped, to real Democ'cy.

on 't,

“We've gut an awful row to hoe
In this 'ere job o' reconstructin':
Folks dunno skurce which way to go,
Where th' ain't some boghole to be

ducked in ;
But one thing 's clear; there is a crack,
Ef we pry hard, 'twixt white an' black,
Where the old makebate can be tucked

in.

“No white man sets in airth's broad

aisle Thet I ain't willin' t' own ez brother, An' ef he's heppened to strike ile, I dunno, fin'ly, but I'd ruther: An' Paddies, long 'z they vote all right, Though they ain't jest a nat'ral white, I hold one on 'em good 'z another.

(Applause.)

* I like the speech best, I confess, The logic, preudence, an' good taste 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. D. A temp’ry party can be based on 't " Jes' to hold on till Johnson 's thru An' dug his Presidential grave is, An' ther! - 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

“Wut is there lef’ I'd like to know,
Ef 't ain't the difference o' color,
To keep up self-respec' an' show
The human natur' of a fullah ?
Wut good in bein' white, onless
It 's fixed by law, nut lef to guess,
That we are smarter an' they duller?

“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.

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