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I thought thet gold mines could be gut cheaper than

Chiny asters, An' see myself acomin' back like sixty Jacob

Astors; But sech idees soon melted down an' didn't leave

a grease-spot; I vow my holl sheer o' the spiles wouldn't come

nigh a V spot; Although, most anywares we've ben, you needn't

break no locks, Nor run no kin' o' risks, to fill your pocket full o'


I guess I mentioned in my last some o' the nateral

feeturs O’ this all-fiered buggy hole in th’ way o' awfle

qcreeturs, But I fergut to name (new things to speak on so

abounded) How one day you'll most die o' thust, an' 'fore the

next git drownded. The clymit seems to me jest like a teapot made o’

pewter Our Prudence hed, thet wouldn't pour (all she

could du) to suit her; Fust place the leaves 'ould choke the spout, so’s

not a drop 'ould dreen out, Then Prude 'ould tip an' tip an' tip, till the holl

kit bust clean out, The kiver-hinge-pin bein’ lost, tea-leaves an’tea

an' kiver ’ould all come down kerswosh! ez though the dam

broke in a river. Jest so 't is here; holl months there aint a day o'

rainy weather, An' jest ez th' officers 'ould be alayin' heads to.



Ez ť how they'd mix their drink at sech a miling

tary deepot, ’T ’ould pour ez though the lid wuz off the ever

lastin' teapot. The cons’quence is, thet I shall take, wen I'm

allowed to leave here, One piece o' propaty along,—an’ thet's the shakin'


fever; It's reggilar employment, though, an' thet aint

thought to harm one, Nor ’t aint so tiresome ez it wuz with t’other leg

an' arm on ; An' it's a consolation, tu, although it doosn't pay To hev it said you're some gret shakes in any kin' 'Tworn't very long, I tell ye wut, I thought o’

fortin-makin', One day a reg'lar shiver-de-freeze, an’ next ez

good ez bakin',One day abrilin' in the sand, then smoth’rin' in the

mashes, Git up all sound, be put to bed a mess o’ hacks an'

smashes. But then, thinks I, at any rate there's glory to be

hed, Thet's an investment, arter all, thet mayn't turn

out so bad; But somehow, wen we'd fit an' licked, I ollers

found the thanks Gut kin' o' lodged afore they come ez low down ez

the ranks; The Gin'rals gut the biggest sheer, the Cunnles

next, an' so on, We never gut a blasted mite o' glory ez I know An' spose we hed, I wonder how you're goin' to

contrive its

on ;

Division so's to give a piece to twenty thousand

privits ; Ef you should multiply by ten the portion o' the

brav'st one, You wouldn't git more'n half enough to speak of

on a grave-stun; We git the licks-we're jest the grist thet's put

into War's hoppers ; Leftenants is the lowest grade thet helps pick up

the coppers. It may suit folks thet go-agin a body with a soul

in't, An' aint contented with a hide without a bagnet

hole in't ; But glory is a kin' o' thing I shan't pursue no

furder, Coz thet's the off'cers parquisite, --yourn's on'y

jest the murder. Wal, arter I gin glory up, thinks I at least there's Thing in the bills we aint hed yit, an' thet's the

GLORIOUS FUN; Ef once we git to Mexico, we fairly may persume All day an' night shall revel in the halls o’Monte

zumy. I'll tell ye wut my revels wuz, an' see how you

would like 'em; We never gut inside the hall: the nighest ever 1 Wuz stan'in' sentry in the sun (an', fact, it seemed

a centry) A ketchin' smells o’ biled an' roast thet come out

thru the entry; An' hearin'ez I sweltered thru my passes an' re





A rat-tat-too o'knives an' forks, a clinkty-clink o'

glasses: I can't tell off the bill o fare the Gin’rals hed in

side ;

All I know is, thet out o' doors a pair o' soles wuz

fried, An' not a hunderd miles away frum ware this child

wuz posted, A Massachusetts citizen wuz baked an' biled an'

roasted ; The on’y thing like revellin' thet ever come to me Wuz bein' routed out o'sleep by thet darned


They say the quarrel's settled now i

fer my part I've some doubt on't, 'T'll take more fish-skin than folks think to take

the rile clean out on't ; At any rate, I'm so used up I can't do no more

fightin', The on'y chance thet's left to me is politics or

writin'; Now, ez the people's gut to hev a milingtary

man, An' I aint nothin' else jest now, I've hit upon a

plan; The can'idatin' line, you know, 'ould suit me to

a T, An'ef I lose, 'twunt hurt my ears to lodge another

flea ; So I'll set up ez can'idate fer any kin' o' office, (I mean fer any thet includes good easy-cheers an’

soffies ; Fer ez to runnin' fer a place ware work's the time You know thet's wut I never did, -except the

o day,

other way ;)

Ef it's the Presidential cheer fer wich I'd better

run, Wut two legs anywares about could keep up with

my one ?

There aint no kin' o' quality in can'idates, it's said, So useful ez a wooden leg,-except a wooden head; There's nothin' aint so poppylar—(wy, it's a par

fect sin To think wut Mexico hez paid fer Santy Anny's

pin ;) Then I haint gut no princerples, an', sence I wuz

knee-high, I never did hev any gret, ez you can testify ; I'm a decided peace-man, tu, an' go agin the war, Fer now the holl on't's gone an' past, wut is there

to go for ? Ef, wile you're 'lectioneerin'round, some curus

chaps should beg To know my views o’ state affairs, jest answer

WOODEN LEG ! Ef they aint settisfied with thet, an' kin' o' pry an'

doubt An’ax fer sutthin' deffynit, jest say ONE EYE PUT

OUT! Thet kin' o' talk I guess you'll find'll answer to a

charm, An' wen you're druv tu nigh the wall, hol' up my

missin' arm; Ef they should nose round fer a pledge, put on a

vartoous look An' tell 'em thet's percisely wut I never gin nor

took !

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Then you can call me “ Timbertoes,"—thet's wut

the people likes; Sutthin' combinin' morril truth with phrases sech

ez strikes;

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