Ef it warn't thet, wile all faithful Wigs were their

knees on,

Some stuffy old codger would holler out,-"Treason!

You must keep a sharp eye on a dog thet hez bit you once,

An' I aint agoin' to cheat my constitoounts,"-
Wen every fool knows thet a man represents
Not the fellers thet sent him, but them on the
fence,-

Impartially ready to jump either side

An' make the fust use of a turn o' the tide,—
The waiters on Providunce here in the city,
Who compose wut they call a State Centerl Com-
mitty.

Constitoounts air hendy to help a man in,

But arterwards don't weigh the heft of a pin.
Wy, the people can't all live on Uncle Sam's pus,
So they've nothin' to du with't fer better or wus;
It's the folks thet air kind o' brought up to depend

on't

Thet hev any consarn in't, an' thet is the end on't.

Now here wuz New England ahevin' the honor Of a chance at the Speakership showered upon her;

Do you say," She don't want no more Speakers, but fewer;

She's hed plenty o' them, wut she wants is a doer"?

Fer the matter o' thet, it's notorous in town

Thet her own representatives du her quite brown. But thet's nothin' to du with it; wut right hed Palfrey

To mix himself up with fanatical small fry? Warn't we gittin' on prime with our hot an' cold blowin',

Acondemnin' the war wilst we kep' it agoin'? We'd assumed with gret skill a commandin' posi

tion,

On this side or thet, no one couldn't tell wich one, So, wutever side wipped, we'd a chance at the plunder

An' could sue fer infringin' our paytented thunder;
We were ready to vote fer whoever wuz eligible,
Ef on all pints at issoo he'd stay unintelligible.
Wal, sposin' we hed to gulp down our perfessions,
We were ready to come out next mornin' with
fresh ones;

Besides, ef we did, 'twas our business alone,
Fer couldn't we du wut we would with our own?
An' ef a man can, wen pervisions hev riz so,
Eat up his own words, it's a marcy it is so.

Wy, these chaps frum the North, with back-bones to’em, darn em,

'Ould be wuth more 'an Gennle Tom Thumb is to Barnum;

Ther's enough thet to office on this very plan

grow,

By exhibitin' how very small a man can grow;
But an M. C. frum here ollers hastens to state he
Belongs to the order called invertebraty,
Wence some gret filologists judge primy fashy
Thet M. C. is M. T. by paronomashy ;

An' these few exceptions air loosus naytury
Folks 'ould put down their quarters to stare at,
like fury.

It's no use to open the door o' success,

Ef a member can bolt so fer nothin' or less;
Wy, all o' them grand constitootional pillers
Our fore-fathers fetched with 'em over the billers,
Them pillers the people so soundly hev slep' on,

Wile to slav'ry, invasion, an' debt they were swep'

on,

Wile our Destiny higher an' higher kep' mountin', (Though I guess folks'll stare wen she hends her account in,)

Ef members in this way go kickin' agin 'em, They wunt hev so much ez a feather left in 'em.

An', ez fer this Palfrey,* we thought wen we'l gut him in,

He'd go kindly in wutever harness we put him in; Supposin' we did know thet he wuz a peace man? Doos he think he can be Uncle Sammle's police

man,

An' wen Sam gits tipsy an' kicks up a riot,

Lead him off to the lockup to snooze till he's quiet?

Wy, the war is a war thet true paytriots can bear, ef

It leads to the fat promised land of a tayriff;
We don't go an' fight it, nor aint to be driv on,
Nor Demmercrats nuther, thet hev wut to live on ;
Ef it aint jest the thing thet's well pleasin' to God,
It makes us thought highly on elsewhere abroad;
The Rooshian black eagle looks blue in his eerie
An' shakes both his heads wen he hears o' Mon-

teery;

In the Tower Victory sets, all of a fluster,
An' reads, with locked doors, how we won Cherry
Buster;

An' old Philip Lewis-thet come an' kep' school here

Fer the mere sake o' scorin' his ryalist ruler

There is truth yet in this of Juvenal,

"Dat veniam corvis, vexat censura columbas."

H. W.

On the tenderest part of our kings in futuroHides his crown underneath an old shut in his bureau,

Breaks off in his brags to a suckle o' merry kings, How he often hed hided young native Amerrikins, An, turnin' quite faint in the midst of his fooleries, Sneaks down stairs to bolt the front door o' the Tooleries.*

You say,-"We'd ha' scared 'em by growin' in peace,

A plaguy sight more then by bobberies like these" ? Who is it dares say thet "our naytional eagle Wun't much longer be classed with the birds thet air regal,

Coz theirn be hooked beaks, an' she, arter this slaughter,

* Jortin is willing to allow of other miracles besides those recorded in Holy Writ, and why not of other prophecies? It is granting too much to Satan to suppose him, as divers of the learned have done, the inspirer of the ancient oracles. Wiser, I esteem it, to give chance the credit of the successful ones. What is said here of Louis Philippe was verified in some of its minute particulars within a few months' time. Enough to have made the fortune of Delphi or Hammon, and no thanks to Beelzebub neither! That of Seneca in Medea will suit here:

"Rapida fortuna ac levis

Præcepsque regno eripuit, exsilio dedit."

Let us allow, even to richly deserved misfortune, our commiseration, and be not over-hasty meanwhile in our censure of the French people, left for the first time to govern themselves, remembering that wise sentence of Eschylus,

*Απας δὲ τραχὺς ὅστις ἂν νέον κρατῇ.

H. W.

'll bring back a bill ten times longer'n she ough' to "?

Wut's your name? Come, I see ye, you upcountry feller,

You've put me out severil times with your beller; Out with it! Wut? Biglow? I say nothin' furder,

Thet feller would like nothin' better'n a murder; He's a traiter, blasphemer, an' wut ruther worse is,

He puts all his ath'ism in dreffle bad verses;
Socity aint safe till sech monsters air out on it,
Refer to the Post, ef you hev the least doubt on it;
Wy, he goes agin war, agin indirect taxes,

Agin sellin' wild lands 'cept to settlers with axes,
Agin holdin' o' slaves, though he knows it's the

corner

Our libbaty rests on, the mis'able scorner!

In short, he would wholly upset with his ravages All thet keeps us above the brute critters anʼ savages,

An' pitch into all kinds o' briles an' confusions
The holl of our civilized, free institutions;

He writes fer thet ruther unsafe print, the Courier,
An' likely ez not hez a squintin' to Foorier;
I'll be thet is, I mean I'll be blest,

Ef I hark to a word frum so noted a pest;

I shan't talk with him, my religion's too fervent.— Good mornin', my friends, I'm your most humble

servant.

[Into the question, whether the ability to express ourselves in articulate language has been productive of more good or evil, I shall not here enter at large, The two faculties of speech and of speech-making are wholly diverse in their natures. By the first we make ourselves