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Andy Johnson or some one to lend 'em the With the business-consarns o' the rest o'
wit An' the spunk jes' to mount Constitootion No more 'n they want Sunday to pry an' an' Court
to peek With Columbiad guns, your real ekle-rights Into wut they are doin' the rest o' the sort,
week. Or drill out the spike from the ole Declaration
A ginooine statesman should be on his Thet can kerry a solid shot clearn roun' guard, creation,
Ef he must hev beliefs, nut to b’lieve 'em We'd better take maysures for shettin' up
tu hard ; shop,
For, ez sure ez he does, he 'll be blartin' An' put off our stock by a vendoo or swop.
'thout regardin' the natur' o' man more 'n But they wun't never dare tu ; you 'll see
a spout, 'em in Edom
Nor it don't ask much gumption to pick 'fore they ventur' to go where their doc
out a flaw trines 'ud lead 'em :
In a party whose leaders are loose in the They've ben takin' our princerples up ez we dropt 'em,
An' so in our own case I ventur' to hint An' thought it wuz terrible 'cute to adopt Thet we'd better nut air our perceedin's in
print, But they 'll fin' out 'fore long thet their Nor pass resserlootions ez long ez your arm hope 's ben deceivin' 'em,
Thet may, ez things heppen to turn, du us An' thet princerples ain't o' no good, ef
harm; you b’lieve in 'em ;
For when you ’ve done all your real meanIt makes 'em tu stiff for a party to use,
in' to smother, Where they'd ongh' to be easy 'z an ole The darned things 'll up an' mean suntbin' pair o' shoes.
or 'nother. If we say 'n our pletform thet all men are Jeff'son prob’ly meant wal with his “born brothers,
free an' ekle,” We don't mean thet some folks ain't more But it's turned out a real crooked stick in so 'n some others;
the sekle ; An' it's wal understood thet we make a It's taken full eighty-odd year — don't you
selection, An' thet brotherhood kin' o' subsides arter From the pop'lar belief to root out thet. 'lection.
idee, The fust thing for sound politicians to An', arter all, suckers on 't keep buddin' larn is,
forth Thet Truth, to dror kindly in all sorts o' In the nat'lly onprincipled mind o' the harness,
North. Mus' be kep' in the abstract, — for, come No, never say nothin' without you 're comto apply it,
pelled tu, You ’re ept to hurt some folks's interists An' then don't say nothin' thet you can be by it.
held tu, Wal, these 'ere Republicans (some on 'em) Nor don't leave no friction-idees layin' ects
loose Ez though gineral mexims 'ud suit spesble For the ign'ant to put to incend'ary use.
facts; An' there 's where we 'll nick 'em, there 's You know I'm a feller thet keeps a skinned where they 'll be lost :
eye For applyin' your princerple's wut makes On the leetle events thet go skurryin' by, it cost,
Coz it's of'ner by them than by gret ones An' folks don't want Fourth o' July ť' in- you 'll see terfere
Wut the p’litickle weather is likely to be.
Now I don't think the South 's more 'n There's Phillips, for instance, hez jes’ begun to be licked,
ketched a Tartar But I du think, ez Jeff says, the wind-bag 's In the Law-'n'-Order Party of ole Cincingut pricked ;
nater ; It 'll blow for a spell an' keep puffin' an' An' the Compromise System ain't gone out wheezin',
o' reach, The tighter our army an' navy keep Long 'z you keep the right limits on freesqueezin',
dom o' speech. For they can't help spread-eaglein' long 'z 'T warn't none too late, neither, to put on
ther''s a mouth To blow Enfield's Speaker thru lef' at the For he's dangerous now he goes in for the South.
flag. But it's high time for us to be settin' our Nut thet I altogether approve o' bad eggs, faces
They ’re mos' gin'lly argymunt on its las' Towards reconstructin' the national basis,
legs, – With an eye to beginnin' agin on the jolly An' their logic is ept to be tu indiscrimiticks
nate, We used to chalk up 'hind the back-door o' Nor don't ollus wait the right objecs to politics;
'liminate ; An' the fus' thing 's to save wut of Slav'ry But there is a variety on 'em, you 'll find, ther''s lef'
Jest ez usefle an' more, besides bein' reArter this (I mus' call it) imprudence o'
fined, Jeff :
I mean o' the sort thet are laid by the dicFor a real good Abuse, with its roots fur tionary, an' wide,
Sech ez sophisms an' cant, thet 'll kerry Is the kin' o' thing I like to hev on my
Way thet you want to the right class o’ A Scriptur' name makes it ez sweet ez a
An' are staler than all 't ever come from a An' it's tougher the older an' uglier it
hen : grows
“ Disunion” done wal till our resh Southun (I ain't speakin' now o' the righteousness
Took the savor all out on 't for national But the p'litickle purchase it gives an' the profit).
“ Abolition ” 'll work a spell
yit, Things look pooty squally, it must be When the war's done, an' so will “ Forgiveallowed,
an'-forgit." An' I don't see much signs of a bow in the Times mus' be pooty thoroughly out o'all cloud :
jint, Ther' 's too many Deemocrats - leaders Ef we can't make a good constitootional wut's wuss —
pint; Thet go for the Union 'thout carin' a An' the good time 'll come to be grindin'
our exes, Ef it helps ary party thet ever wuz heard When the war goes to seed in the nettle o'
texes : So our eagle ain't made a split Austrian Ef Jon'than don't squirm, with sech helps
to assist him, But ther''s still some consarvative signs to I give up my faith in the free-suffrage sys
be found Thet shows the gret heart o' the People is Democ'cy wun't be nut a mite interestin', sound :
Nor p’litikle capital much wuth investin'; (Excuse me for usin' a stump-phrase agin, An' my notion is, to keep dark an' lay low But, once in the way on 't, they will stick Till we see the right minute to put in our like sin :)
But I've talked longer now'n I hed any merely social convulsions, and do not long idee,
survive them. So soon as an earnest conAn' ther' 's othen you want to hear more 'n viction has cooled into a phrase, its work is you du me ;
over, and the best that can be done with it So I'll set down an’ give thet 'ere bottle a is to bury it. Ite, missa est. I am inclined skrimmage,
to agree with Mr. Biglow that we cannot For I've spoke till I'm dry ez a real graven settle the great political questions which image.
are now presenting themselves to the nation by the opinions of Jeremiah or Ezekiel as
to the wants and duties of the Jews in their NO. VI
time, nor do I believe that an entire com
munity with their feelings and views would SUNTHIN IN THE PASTORAL
be practicable or even agreeable at the LINE
prescnt day. At the same time I could
wish that their habit of subordinating the TO THE EDITORS OF THE ATLANTIC actual to the moral, the flesh to the spirit, MONTHLY
and this world to the other, were more
common. They had found out, at least, JAALAM, 17th May, 1862.
the great military secret that soul weighs GENTLEMEN, At the special request of more than body. — But I am suddenly Mr. Biglow, I intended to inclose, together called to a sick-bed in the household of a with his own contribution, (into which, at valued parishioner. my suggestion, he has thrown a little more
With esteem and respect, of pastoral sentiment than usual,) some pas
Your obedient servant, sages from my sermon on the day of the
HOMER WILBUR. National Fast, from the text, “Remember them that are in bonds, as bound with ONCE git a smell o' musk into a draw, them,” Heb. xii. 3. But I have not leisure An' it clings hold like precerdents in law: sufficient at present for the copying of Your gra'ma'am put it there, — when, them, even were I altogether satisfied with goodness knows, the production as it stands. I should pre- To jes' this-worldify her Sunday-clo'es; fer, I confess, to contribute the entire dis- But the old chist wun't sarve her gran’son's course to the pages of your respectable wife, miscellany, if it should be found acceptable (For, 'thout new funnitoor, wut good in upon perusal, especially as I find the difficulty_in selection of greater magnitude An' so ole clawfoot, from the precinks than I had anticipated. What passes with
dread out challenge in the fervour of oral deliv- O'the spare chamber, slinks into the shed, ery, cannot always stand the colder crit- Where, dim with dust, it fust or last subicism of the closet. I am not so great
sides an enemy of Eloquence as my friend Mr. To holdin' seeds an' fifty things besides; Biglow would appear to be from some pas- But better days stick fast in heart an' husk, sages in his contribution for the current An' all you keep in 't gits a scent o’ musk. month. I would not, indeed, hastily suspect him of covertly glancing at myself in Jes' so with poets: wut they ’ve airly read his somewhat caustick animadversions, al- Gits kind o worked into their heart an' beit some of the phrases he girds at are head, not entire strangers to my lips. I am a So 's 't they can't seem to write but jest on more hearty admirer of the Puritans than
sheers seems now to be the fashion, and believe, With furrin countries or played-out ideers, that, if they Hebraized a little too much in Nor hev a feelin', ef it doos n't smack their speech, they showed remarkable prac- O’ wut some critter chose to feel 'way tical sagacity as statesmen and founders.
back: But such phenomena as Puritanism are the This makes 'em talk o' daisies, larks, an' results rather of great religious than of things,
Ez though we'd nothin' here that blows an' Though I own up I like our back’ard sings,
springs (Why, I'd give more for one live bobolink | Thet kind o' haggle with their greens an' Than a square mile o'larks in printer's things, ink,)
An' when you ’most give up, 'uthout more This makes 'em think our fust o' May is words May,
Toss the fields full o' blossoms, leaves, an' Which 't ain't, for all the almanicks can birds; say.
Thet 's Northun natur', slow an' apt to
doubt, O little city-gals, don't never go it
But when it doos git stirred, ther''s no ginBlind on the word o' noospaper or poet!
out! They 're apt to puff, an' May-day seldom looks
Fust come the blackbirds clatt'rin' in tall Up in the country ez it doos in books;
trees, They ’re no more like than hornets’-nests An' settlin' things in windy Congresses, an' hives,
Queer politicians, though, for I 'll be Or printed sarmons be to holy lives.
skinned I, with my trouses perched on cowhide Ef all on 'em don't head aginst the wind. boots,
'fore long the trees begin to show belief, Tuggin' my foundered feet out by the roots, The maple crimsons to a coral-reef, Hev seen ye come to fling on April's hearse Then saffern swarms swing off from all the Your muslin nosegays from the milliner's,
willers Puzzlin' to find dry ground your queen to So plump they look like yaller caterpilchoose,
lars, An' dance your throats sore in morocker Then gray hossches’nuts leetle hands unfold shoes:
Softer 'n a baby's be at three days old: I've seen ye an' felt proud, thet, come wut Thet 's robin - redbreast's almanick; he would,
knows Our Pilgrim stock wuz pethed with hardi- Thet arter this ther''s only blossom-snows; hood.
So, choosin' out a haudy crotch an’ spouse, Pleasure doos make us Yankees kind o' He goes to plast'rin' his adobe house.
winch, Ez though 't wuz sunthin' paid for by the Then seems to come a hitch, — things lag inch;
behind, But yit we du contrive to worry thru, Till some fine mornin' Spring makes up her Ef Dooty tells us thet the thing 's to du,
mind, An' kerry a hollerday, ef we set out, An' ez, when snow-swelled rivers cresh Ez stiddily ez though 't, wuz a redoubt.
Heaped-up with ice thet dovetails in an’ I, country-born an' bred, know where to jams, find
A leak comes spirtin' thru some pin-hole Some blooms thet make the season suit the
Grows stronger, fercer, tears out right an' An' seem to metch the doubtin' bluebird's
Then all the waters bow themselves an' Half-vent'rin' liverworts in furry coats,
come, Bloodroots, whose rolled-up leaves ef you Suddin, in one gret slope o’shedderin' foam, oncurl,
Jes' so our Spring gits everythin' in tune Each on 'em 's cradle to a baby-pearl, An' gives one leap from Aperl into June : But these are jes' Spring's pickets; sure ez Then all comes crowdin' in ; afore you sin,
think, The rebble frosts 'll try to drive 'em in; Young oak-leaves mist the side-hill woods For half our May 's so awfully like May n't,
with pink ; 't would rile a Shaker or an evrige saint; The catbird in the laylock-bush is loud ;
The orcbards turn to heaps o' rosy
My innard vane pints east for weeks toRed-cedars blossom tu, though few folks gether, know it,
My natur' gits all goose-flesh, an' my sins An' look all dipt in sunshine like a poet ; Come drizzlin' on my conscience sharp ez The lime-trees pile their solid stacks o' pins : shade
Wal, et sech times I jes' slip out o' sight An' drows'ly simmer with the bees' sweet An' take it out in a fair stan’-up fight trade;
With the one cuss I can't lay on the shelf, In ellum-shrouds the flashin' hangbird The crook'dest stick in all the heap, - Myclings
self. An' for the summer vy'ge his hammock slings;
'Twuz so las' Sabbath arter meetin'-time : All down the loose-walled lanes in archin' Findin' my feelin's would n't noways rhyme bowers
With nobody's, but off the hendle flew The barb'ry droops its strings o' golden An' took things from an east-wind pint o' flowers,
view, Whose shrinkin' hearts the school-gals love I started off to lose me in the hills
Where the pines be, up back o' 'Siah's With pins, — they 'll worry yourn so, boys,
Mills : bimeby!
Pines, ef you 're blue, are the best friends But I don't love your catlogue style, — do
feelin's Ez ef to sell off Natur' by vendoo;
so, One word with blood in 't 's twice ez good | They besh the ground beneath so, tu, I ez two :
swan, ’nuff sed, June's bridesman, poet o' the You half-forgit you've gut a body on. year,
Ther''s a small school'us' there where four Gladness on wings, the bobolink, is here ;
roads meet, Half-hid in tip-top apple-blooms he swings, The door-steps bollered out by little feet, Or climbs aginst the breeze with quiverin' An' side-posts carved with names whose wings,
owners grew Or, givin' way to 't in a mock despair, To gret men, some on 'em, an' deacons, tu ; Runs down, a brook o’ laughter, thru the 't ain't used no longer, coz the town hez gut air.
A high-school, where they teach the Lord
knows wut : I ollus feel the sap start in my veins Three-story larnin''s pop'lar now ; I
guess In Spring, with curus heats an' prickly We thriv' ez wal on jes' two stories less, pains,
For it strikes me ther''s sech a thing ez Thet drive me, when I git a chance, to
By overloadin' children's underpinnin' : Off by myself to hev a privit talk
Wal, here it wuz I larned my A B C, With a queer critter thet can't seem to An' it's a kind o’ favorite spot with me.
'gree Along o' me like most folks, Mister We're curus critters : Now ain't jes' the Me.
minute Ther''s times when I'm unsoshle ez a stone, Thet ever fits us easy while we're in it; An' sort o' suffercate to be alone,
Long ez 't wuz futur', 't would be perfect I'm crowded jes’ to think thet folks are bliss, nigh,
Soon ez it's past, thet time's wuth ten o' An' can't bear nothin' closer than the sky;
An' yit there ain't a man thet need be told Now the wind 's full ez shifty in the mind Theť Now's the only bird lays eggs o’gold. Ez wut it is ou’-doors, ef I ain't blind, A knee-high lad, I used to plot an' plan An' sometimes, in the fairest sou'west An' think 't wuz life's cap - sheaf to be a weather,