fer every day,

Say you 're assured I go full but fer Libbaty's diffusion

An' made the purchis on'y jest to spite the
Institootion;-

But, golly! there 's the currier's boss upon
the pavement pawin'!
I'll be more 'xplicit in my next.
Yourn,

BIRDOFREDUM SAWIN.

[We have now a tolerably fair chance of estimating how the balance-sheet stands between our returned volunteer and glory. Supposing the entries to be set down on both sides of the account in fractional parts of one hundred, we shall arrive at something like the following result:

B. SAWIN, Esq., in account with (BLANK) GLORY.

Brought forward... 100

To

E. E.

100

64

Brought forward... 55 one suit of gray

clothes (ingeni

ously unbecom-
ing)

15

musical enter

It should appear that Mr. Sawin found the actual feast curiously the reverse of the bill of fare advertised in Faneuil Hall and other

places. His primary object seems to have been the making of his fortune. Quærenda pecunia primum, virtus post nummos. He hoisted sail for Eldorado, and shipwrecked on Point Tribulation. Quid non mortalia pectora cogis, auri sacra fames? The speculation has sometimes crossed my mind, in that dreary interval of drought which intervenes between quarterly stipendiary showers, that Providence, by the creation of a money-tree, might have simplified wonderfully the sometimes perplexing problem of human life. We read of bread-trees, the butter for which lies ready-churned in Irish bogs. Milk-trees we are assured of in South America, and stout Sir John Hawkins testifies to water-trees in the Canaries. Boot-trees bear abundantly in Lynn and elsewhere; and I have seen, in the entries of the wealthy, hat-trees with a fair show of fruit. A family-tree I once cultivated myself, and found therefrom but a scanty yield, and that quite tasteless and innutritious. Of trees bearing men we are not without examples; as those in the park of Louis the Eleventh of France. Who has forgotten, moreover, that olive-tree, growing in the Athenian's back-garden, with its strange uxorious crop, for the general propagation of which, as of a new and precious variety, the philosopher Diogenes, hitherto uninterested in arboriculture, was so zealous? In the sylva of our own Southern States, the females of my family have called my attention to the china tree. Not to multiply examples, I will barely add to my list the birch-tree, in the smaller branches of which has been implanted so miraculous a virtue for communicating the Latin and Greek languages, and which may well, therefore, be classed among the trees producing necessaries of life, - venerabile donum fatalis virge. That money-trees existed in the golden age there want not prevalent reasons for our believing. For does not the old proverb, when it asserts that money does not grow on every bush, imply a fortiori that there were certain bushes which did produce it? Again, there is another ancient saw to the effect that

money is the root of all evil. From which two adages it may be safe to infer that the aforesaid species of tree first degenerated into a shrub, then absconded underground, and finally, in our iron age, vanished altogether. In favorable exposures it may be conjectured that a specimen or two survived to a great age, as in the garden of the Hesperides; and, indeed. what else could that tree in the Sixth Æneid have been, with a branch whereof the Trojan hero procured admission to a territory, for the entering of which money is a surer passport than to a certain other more profitable and too foreign kingdom? Whether these speculations of mine have any force in them, or whether they will not rather, by most readers, be deemed impertinent to the matter in hand, is a question which I leave to the determination of an indulgent posterity. That there were, in more primitive and happier times, shops where money was sold, and that, too, on credit and at a bargain, I take to be matter of demonstration. For what but a dealer in this article was that olus who supplied Ulysses with motive-power for his fleet in bags? what that Ericus, King of Sweden, who is said to have kept the winds in his cap? what, in more recent times, those Lapland Nornas who traded in favorable breezes? All which will appear the more clearly when we consider, that, even to this day, raising the wind is proverbial for raising money, and that brokers and banks were invented by the Venetians at a later period.

And now for the improvement of this digression. I find a parallel to Mr. Sawin's fortune in an adventure of my own. For, shortly after I had first broached to myself the before-stated natural-historical and archæological theories, as I was passing, hæc negotia penitus mecum revolvens, through one of the obscure suburbs of our New England metropolis, my eye was attracted by these words upon a signboard, CHEAP

Al

CASH-STORE. Here was at once the confirmation of my speculations, and the substance of my hopes. Here lingered the fragment of a happier past, or stretched out the first tremulous organic filament of a more fortunate future. Thus glowed the distant Mexico to the eyes of Sawin, as he looked through the dirty pane of the recruiting-office window, or speculated from the summit of that mirage-Pisgah which the imps of the bottle are so cunning to raise up. ready had my Alnaschar-fancy (even during that first half-believing glance) expended in various useful directions the funds to be obtained by pledging the manuscript of a proposed volume of discourses. Already did a clock ornament the tower of the Jaalam meeting-house, a gift appropriately, but modestly, commemorated in the parish and town records, both, for now many years, kept by myself. Already had my son Seneca completed his course at the University. Whether, for the moment, we may not be considered as actually lording it over those Baratarias with the viceroyalty of which Hope invests us, and whether we are ever so warmly housed as in our Spanish castles, would afford

matter of argument. Enough that I found that signboard to be no other than a bait to the trap of a decayed grocer. Nevertheless, I bought a pound of dates (getting short weight by reason of immense flights of harpy flies who pursued and lighted upon their prey even in the very scales), which purchase I made not only with an eye to the little ones at home, but also as a figurative reproof of that too frequent habit of my mind, which, forgetting the due order of chronology, will often persuade me that the happy sceptre of Saturn is stretched over this Astræaforsaken nineteenth century.

Having glanced at the ledger of Glory under the title Sawin, B., let us extend our investigations, and discover if that instructive volume does not contain some charges more personally interesting to ourselves. I think we should be more economical of our resources, did we thoroughly appreciate the fact, that, whenever Brother Jonathan seems to be thrusting his hand into his own pocket, he is, in fact, picking ours. I confess that the late muck which the country has been running has materially changed my views as to the best method of raising revenue. If, by means of direct taxation, the bills for every extraordinary outlay were brought under our immediate eye, so that, like thrifty housekeepers, we could see where and how fast the money was going, we should be less likely to commit extravagances. At present, these things are managed in such a hugger-mugger way, that we know not what we pay for; the poor man is charged as much as the rich; and, while we are saving and scrimping at the spigot, the government is drawing off at the bung. If we could know that a part of the money we expend for tea and coffee goes to buy powder and balls, and that it is Mexican blood which makes the clothes on our backs more costly, it would set some of us athinking. During the present fall, I have often pictured to myself a government official entering my study and handing me the following bill:

WASHINGTON, Sept. 30, 1848. REV. HOMER WILBUR to Uncle Samuel,

I can fancy the official answering my look of horror with Yes, Sir, it looks like a high charge, Sir; but in these days slaughtering is slaughtering." Verily, I would that every one understood that it was; for it goes about obtaining money under the false pretence of being glory. For me, I have an imagination which plays me uncomfortable tricks. It happens to me sometimes to see a slaughterer on his way home from his day's work, and forthwith my imagination puts a cocked-hat upon his head and epaulettes upon his shoulders, and sets him up as a candidate for the Presidency. So, also, on a recent public occasion, as the place assigned to the "Reverend Clergy" is just behind that of Officers of the Army and Navy" in processions, it was my fortune to be seated at the dinner-table over against one of these respectable persons. He was arrayed as (out of his own profession)_only kings, court-officers, and footmen are in Europe, and Indians in America. Now what does my over-officious imagination but set to work upon him, strip him of his gay livery, and present him to me coatless, his trousers thrust into the tops of a pair of boots thick with clotted blood, and a basket on his arm out of which lolled a gore-smeared axe, thereby destroying my relish for the temporal mercies upon the board before me! - H. W.]

No. IX

A THIRD LETTER FROM
B. SAWIN, ESQ.

[UPON the following letter slender comment will be needful. In what river Selemnus has Mr. Sawin bathed, that he has become so swiftly oblivious of his former loves? From an ardent and (as befits a soldier) confident wooer of that coy bride, the popular favor, we see him subside of a sudden into the (I trust not jilted) Cincinnatus, returning to his plough with a goodly sized branch of willow in his hand; figuratively returning, however, to a figurative plough, and from no profound affection for that honored implement of husbandry (for which, indeed, Mr. Sawin never displayed any decided predilection), but in order to be gracefully summoned therefrom to more congenial labors. It should seem that the character of the ancient

Dictator had become part of the recognized stock of our modern political comedy, though, as our term of office extends to a quadrennial length, the parallel is not so minutely exact as could be desired. It is sufficiently so, however, for purposes of scenic representation. An humble cottage (if built of logs, the better) forms the Arcadian background of the stage. This rustic paradise is labelled Ashland, Jaalam, North Bend, Marshfield, Kinderhook, or Bâton Rouge, as occasion demands. Before the door stands a something with one handle (the other painted in proper perspective), which represents, in happy ideal vagueness, the plough. To this the defeated candidate rushes with delirious joy, welcomed as a father by appropriate groups of happy laborers, or from it the successful one is torn with difficulty, sustained alone by a noble sense of public duty. Only I have observed, that, if the scene be laid at Bâton Rouge or Ashland, the laborers are kept carefully in the background, and are heard to shout from behind the scenes in a singular tone resembling ululation, and accompanied by a sound not unlike vigorous clapping. This, however, may be artistically in keeping with the habits of the rustic population of those localities. The precise connection between agricultural pursuits and statesmanship I have not been able, after diligent inquiry, to discover. But, that my investigations may not be barren of all fruit, I will mention one curious statistical fact, which I consider thoroughly established, namely, that no real farmer ever attains practically beyond a seat in the General Court, however theoretically qualified for more exalted station.

It is probable that some other prospect has been opened to Mr. Sawin, and that he has not made this great sacrifice without some definite understanding in regard to a seat in the cabinet or a foreign mission. It may be supposed that we of Jaalam were not untouched by a feeling of villatic pride in beholding our townsman occupying so large a space in the public eye. And to me, deeply revolving the qualifications necessary to a candidate in these frugal times, those of Mr. S. seemed peculiarly adapted to a successful campaign. The loss of a leg, an arm, an eye, and four fingers reduced him so nearly to the condition of a vox et præterea nihil that I could think of nothing but the loss of his head by which his chance could have been bettered. But since he has chosen to balk our suffrages, we must content ourselves with what we can get, remembering lactucas non esse dandas, dum cardui sufficiant. - H. W.]

I SPOSE you recollect thet I explained my gennle views

In the last billet thet I writ, 'way down frum Veery Cruze,

Jest arter I'd a kin' o' ben spontanously sot up

To run unannermously fer the Preserdential cup;

O' course it worn't no wish o' mine, 't wuz ferflely distressin',

But poppiler enthusiasm gut so almighty pressin'

Thet, though like sixty all along I fumed an' fussed an' sorrered,

There didn't seem no ways to stop their bringin' on me forrerd:

Fact is, they udged the matter so, I could n't help admittin'

The Father o' his Country's shoes no feet but mine 'ould fit in,

Besides the savin' o' the soles fer ages to succeed,

Seein' thet with one wannut foot, a pair'd

I wuz agoin' on to say thet wen at fust I saw The masses would stick to 't I wuz the Country's father-'n-law,

(They would ha' hed it Father, but I told 'em 't would n't du, Coz thet wuz sutthin'

of a sort they could n't split in tu, An' Washinton hed hed the thing laid fairly to his door,

Nor dars n't say 't worn't his'n, much ez sixty year afore,)

But 't aint no matter ez to thet; wen I wuz nomernated,

'T worn't natur but wut I should feel consid'able elated,

An' wile the hooraw o' the thing wuz kind o' noo an' fresh,

I thought our ticket would ha' caird the country with a resh.

Sence I've come hum, though, an' looked round, I think I seem to find

Strong argimunts ez thick ez fleas to make me change my mind;

It's clear to any one whose brain aint fur gone in a phthisis,

Thet hail Columby's happy land is goin' thru a crisis,

An' 't would n't noways du to hev the people's mind distracted

By bein' all to once by sev'ral pop'lar names attackted;

"T would save holl haycartloads o' fuss an' three four months o' jaw,

Ef some illustrous paytriot should back out an' withdraw;

So, ez I aint a crooked stick, jest like like ole (I swow,

I dunno ez I know his name) — I'll go back to my plough.

Wenever an Amerikin distinguished politishin

Begins to try et wut they call definin' his posishin,

Wal, I, fer one, feel sure he aint gut nothin' to define;

It's so nine cases out o' ten, but jest that tenth is mine;

An' 't aint no more 'n is proper 'n' right in sech sitooation

To

hint the course you think 'll be the savin' o' the nation;

To funk right out o' p'lit'cal strife aint thought to be the thing,

Without you deacon off the toon you want your folks should sing;

So I edvise the noomrous friends thet's in one boat with me

To jest up killick, jam right down their hellum hard alee,

Haul the sheets taut, an', layin' out upon the Suthun tack,

Make fer the safest port they can, wich, I think, is Ole Zack.

Next thing you'll want to know, I spose, wut argimunts I seem

To see thet makes me think this ere 'll be the strongest team;

Fust place, I've ben consid❜ble round in bar-rooms an' saloons

Agetherin' public sentiment, 'mongst Demmercrats and Coons,

An' 't aint ve'y offen thet I meet a chap but wut goes in

Fer Rough an' Ready, fair an' square, hufs, taller, horns, an' skin;

I don't deny but wut, fer one, ez fur ez I could see,

I did n't like at fust the Pheladelphy nom

ernee:

I could ha' pinted to a man thet wuz, I guess, a peg Higher than him,

—a soger, tu, an' with a wooden leg;

But every day with more an' more o' Taylor zeal I'm burnin',

Seein' wich way the tide thet sets to office

is aturnin';

Wy, into Bellers's we notched the votes down on three sticks,

"T wuz Birdofredum one, Cass aught, an' Taylor twenty-six,

An' bein' the on'y canderdate thet wuz upon the ground,

They said 't wuz no more 'n right thet I should pay the drinks all round; Ef I'd expected sech a trick, I would n't ha' cut my foot

By goin' an' votin' fer myself like a consumed coot;

It did n't make no deff'rence, though; I wish I may be cust,

Ef Bellers wuz n't slim enough to say he would n't trust !

Another pint thet influences the minds o' sober jedges

Is thet the Gin'ral hez n't gut tied hand an' foot with pledges;

He hez n't told ye wut he is, an' so there aint no knowin'

But wut he may turn out to be the best there is agoin';

This, at the on'y spot thet pinched, the shoe

directly eases,

Coz every one is free to 'xpect percisely wut he pleases:

I want free-trade; you don't; the Gin'ral is n't bound to neither;

I vote my way; you, yourn; an' both air sooted to a T there.

Ole Rough an' Ready, tu, 's a Wig, but without bein' ultry;

He's like a holsome hayin' day, thet's warm, but is n't sultry;

He's jest wut I should call myself, a kin' o' scratch ez 't ware,

Thet aint exacly all a wig nor wholly your own hair;

I've ben a Wig three weeks myself, jest o' this mod'rate sort,

An' don't find them an' Demmercrats so defferent ez I thought;

They both act pooty much alike, an' push an' scrouge an' cus;

They're like two pickpockets in league fer
Uncle Samwell's pus;
Each takes a side, an' then they squeeze
the ole man in between 'em,

Turn all his pockets wrong side out an' quick ez lightnin' clean 'em;

To nary one on 'em I'd trust a secon'handed rail

No furder off 'an I could sling a bullock by the tail.

Webster sot matters right in thet air Mashfiel' speech o' his'n;

"Taylor," sez he, "aint nary ways the one thet I'd a chizzen,

Nor he aint fittin' fer the place, an' like ez not he aint

No more 'n a tough ole bullethead, anʼ no gret of a saint;

But then," sez he, "obsarve my pint, he's jest ez good to vote fer

Ez though the greasin' on him worn't a thing to hire Choate fer;

Aint it ez easy done to drop a ballot in a box

Fer one ez 't is fer t' other, fer the bull-dog ez the fox ?"

It takes a mind like Dannel's, fact, ez big ez all ou' doors,

To find out thet it looks like rain arter it fairly pours;

I'gree with him, it aint so dreffle trouble

some to vote

Fer Taylor arter all, it's jest to go an' change your coat;

Wen he's once greased, you'll swaller him an' never know on 't, scurce, Unless he scratches, goin' down, with them 'ere Gin'ral's spurs.

I've ben a votin' Demmercrat, ez reg'lar as a clock,

But don't find goin' Taylor gives my narves no gret 'f a shock;

Truth is, the cutest leadin' Wigs, ever sence fust they found

Wich side the bread gut buttered on, hev kep' a edgin' round;

They kin' o' slipt the planks frum out th' ole platform one by one

An' made it gradooally noo, 'fore folks know'd wut wuz done,

Till, fur 'z I know, there aint an inch thet I could lay my han' on,

But I, or any Demmercrat, feels comf'table to stan' on,

An' ole Wig doctrines act'lly look, their

occ'pants bein' gone,

Lonesome ez steddles on a mash without no hayricks on.