Them thet rule us, them slave-traders, Haint they cut a thunderin' swarth (Helped by Yankee renegaders), Thru the vartu o' the North! We begin to think it's nater To take sarse an' not be riled; Who 'd expect to see a tater All on eend at bein' biled? Ez fer war, I call it murder, -- Than my Testyment fer that; 'Taint your eppyletts an' feathers Feller-men like oats an' rye? This 'ere cuttin' folks's throats. They may talk o' Freedom's airy Fer the barthrights of our race; So 's to lug new slave-states in To abuse ye, an' to scorn ye, An' to plunder ye like sin. Aint it cute to see a Yankee Take sech everlastin' pains, All to git the Devil's thankee Helpin' on 'em weld their chains? Wy, it's jest ez clear ez figgers, Clear ez one an' one make two, Tell ye jest the eend I 've come to Laborin' man an' laborin' woman "Taint by turnin' out to hack folks 'Taint the hide thet makes it wus, All it keers fer in a feller 'S jest to make him fill its pus. Want to tackle me in, du ye? I expect you'll hev to wait; To them poor half-Spanish drones? Wether I'd be sech a goose Take them editors thet 's crowin' (Like a peach thet 's got the yellers), With the meanness bustin' out. Wal, go 'long to help 'em stealin' Bigger pens to cram with slaves, She 's akneelin' with the rest, Wile the wracks are round her hurled, Holdin' up a beacon peerless To the oppressed of all the world! Ha'n't they sold your colored seamen ? They'd ha' done 't ez quick ez winkin' Clang the bells in every steeple, The enslavers o' their own; : Much ez we frail mortils can, But I wun't go help the Devil Makin' man the cus o' man ; Call me coward, call me traiter, Jest ez suits your mean idees,— Here I stand a tyrant-hater, An' the friend o' God an' Peace!" Ef I'd my way I hed ruther We should go to work an' part, They take one way, we take t' other, Guess it would n't break my heart; Man hed ough' to put asunder Them thet God has noways jined; An' I should n't gretly wonder Ef there's thousands o' my mind. [The first recruiting sergeant on record I conceive to have been that individual who is mentioned in the Book of Job as going to and fro in the earth, and walking up and down in it. Bishop Latimer will have him to have been a bishop, but to me that other calling would appear more congenial. The sect of Cainites is not yet extinct, who esteemed the first-born of Adam to be the most worthy, not only because of that privilege of primogeniture, but inasmuch as he was able to overcome and slay his younger brother. That was a wise saying of the famous Marquis Pescara to the Papal Legate, that it was impossible for men to serre Mars and Christ at the same time. Yet in time past the profession of arms was judged to be kar' efox that of a gentleman, nor does this opinion want for strenuous upholders even in our day. Must we suppose, then, that the profession of Christianity was only intended for losels, or, at best, to afford an opening for plebeian ambition? Or shall we hold with that nicely metaphysical Pomeranian, Captain Vratz, who was Count Königsmark's chief instrument in the murder of Mr. Thynne, that the Scheme of Salvation has been arranged with an especial eye to the necessities of the upper classes, and that "God would consider a gentleman and deal with him suitably to the condition and profession he had placed him in"? It may be said of us all, Exemplo plus quam ratione vivimus. - - H. W.] No. II. A LETTER FROM MR. HOSEA BIGLOW TO THE HON. J. T. BUCKINGHAM, EDITOR OF THE BOSTON COURIER, COVERING A LETTER FROM MR. B. SAWIN, PRIVATE IN THE MASSACHUSETTS REGIMENT. [This letter of Mr. Sawin's was not originally written in verse. Mr. Biglow, thinking it peculiarly susceptible of metrical adornment, translated it, so to speak, into his own vernacular tongue. This is not the time to consider the question, whether rhyme be a mode of expression natural to the human race. If leisure from other and more important avocations be granted, I will handle the matter more at large in an appendix to the present volume. In this place I will barely remark, that I have sometimes noticed in the unlanguaged prattlings of infants a fondness for alliteration, assonance, and even rhyme, in which natural predisposition we may trace the three degrees through which our Angle-Saxon verse rose to its culmination in the poetry of Pope. I would not be understood as questioning in these remarks that pious theory which supposes that children, if left entirely to themselves, would naturally discourse in Hebrew. For this the authority of one experiment is claimed, and I could, with Sir Thomas Browne, desire its establishment, inasmuch as the acquirement of that sacred tongue would thereby be facilitated. I am aware that Herodotus states the conclusion of Psammeticus to have been in favor of a dialect of the Phrygian. But, beside the chance that a trial of this importance would hardly be blessed to a Pagan monarch whose only motive was curiosity, we have on the Hebrew side the comparatively recent investigation of James the Fourth of Scotland. I will add to this prefatory remark, that Mr. Sawin, though a native of Jaalam, has never been a stated attendant on the religious exercises of my congregation. I consider my humble efforts prospered in that not one of my sheep hath ever indued the wolf's clothing of war, save for the comparatively innocent diversion of a militia training. Not that my flock are backward to undergo the hardships of defensive warfare. They serve cheerfully in the great army which fights even unto death pro aris et focis, accoutred with the spade, the axe, the plane, the sledge, the spelling-book, and other such effectual weapons against want and ignorance and unthrift. I have taught them (under God) to esteem our human institutions as but tents of a night, to be stricken whenever Truth puts the bugle to her lips and sounds a march to the heights of wider-viewed intelligence and more perfect organization.-H. W.] MISTER BUCKINUM, the follerin Billet | (Wy I 've worked out to slarterin' some was writ hum by a Yung feller of our town that wuz cussed fool enuff to goe atrottin inter Miss Chiff arter a Drum and fife. it fer Deacon Cephas Billins, An' in the hardest times there wuz I ollers tetched ten shillins,) There's sutthin' gits into my throat thet makes it hard to swaller, comes so nateral to think about a hempen collar; It's glory, but, in spite o' all my tryin' to git callous, ain't Nater for a feller to let on that he 's his Folks gin the letter to me and i shew it to parson Wilbur and he ses it oughter Bee printed. send It to mister Buckinum, ses he, i don't ollers agree with him, ses he, but by Time, ses he, I du like a feller that aint a Feared. I have intusspussed a Few refleckshuns hear and thair. We 're kind o' prest with Hayin. Ewers respecfly HOSEA BIGLOW. THIS kind o' sogerin' aint a mite like our October trainin', I feel a kind o' in a cart, aridin' to the gallus. But wen it comes to bein' killed, — I tell The fust time 't ever I found out wy 66 "Thet 's sez I; sez he, 'Aint you a bus Sez I, "I'm up to all thet air, I guess I know wy sentinuls air sot; you aint agoin' to eat us; Caleb haint no monopoly to court the My A chap could clear right out from there (Fear o' gittin' on 'em spotted), an' a fel- Ef he fired away his ramrod arter tu much rum an' water. Recollect wut fun we hed, you'n' I an' -- Up there to Waltham plain last fall, In relation to this expression, I cannot but think that Mr. Biglow has been too hasty in attributing it to me. Though Time be a comparatively innocent personage to swear by, and though Longinus in his discourse. Περὶ Ὕψους have commended timely oaths as not only a useful but sublime figure of speech, yet I have always kept my lips free from that abomination. Odi profanum vulgus, I hate your swearing and hectoring fellows. H. W. ti hait the Site of a feller with a muskit as I du pizn But their is fun to a cornwallis I aint agoin' to deny it.-H. B. the means Not quite so fur I guess. seenoreetas; folks to hum air full ez good ez hisn be, by golly!" so ez I wuz goin' by, not thinkin' wut would folly, The everlastin' cus he stuck his onepronged pitchfork in me An' made a hole right thru my close ez ef I wuz an in'my. Wal, it beats all how big I felt hooraw in' in ole Funnel Wen Mister Bolles he gin the sword to our Leftenant Cunnle, (It's Mister Secondary Bolles,* thet writ the prize peace essay; Thet 's why he did n't list himself along o' us, I dessay,) An' Rantoul, tu, talked pooty loud, but don't put his foot in it, Coz human life 's so sacred thet he 's How dreffle slick he reeled it off (like | Is round your throat an' you a copse, 'fore Blitz at our lyceum Ahaulin' ribbins from his chops so quick you skeercely see 'em), About the Anglo-Saxon race (an' saxons would be handy To du the buryin' down here upon the Rio Grandy), About our patriotic pas an' our starspangled banner, Our country's bird alookin' on an' singin' out hosanner, An' how he (Mister B. himself) wuz happy fer Ameriky, I felt, ez sister Patience sez, a leetle mite histericky. I felt, I swon, ez though it wuz a dreffle kind of privilege Atrampin' round thru Boston streets among the gutter's drivelage; I act'lly thought it wuz a treat to hear a little drummin', An' it did bony fidy seem millanyum wuz acomin' you can say, "Wut air ye at?"* You never see sech darned gret bugs (it may not be irrelevant To say I've seen a scarabæus pilularius+ big ez a year old elephant), The rigiment come up one day in time to stop a red bug From runnin' off with Cunnle Wright, -'t wuz jest a common cimex lectularius. One night I started up on eend an' thought I wuz to hum agin, heern a horn, thinks I it's So the fisherman hez come agin, His bellowses is sound enough, I a livin' creeter, I felt a thing go thru my leg, -ez I'm nothin' more 'n a skeeter! Then there's the yaller fever, tu, they call it here el vomito, (Come, thet wun't du, you landerab there, I tell ye to le' go my toe! My gracious! it's a scorpion thet 's took a shine to play with 't, I darsn't skeer the tarnal thing fer fear he'd run away with 't.) Afore I come away from hum I hed a Thet Mexicans worn't human beans, ‡ strong persuasion A sort o' folks a chap could kill an' -an ourang outang nation, No more 'n a feller 'd dream o' pigs thet never dream on 't arter, he hed hed to slarter; I'd an idee thet they were built arter the darkie fashion all, An' kickin' colored folks about, you But wen I jined I wornt so wise ez thet know, 's a kind o' national; air queen o' Sheby, Fer, come to look at 'em, they aint much diff'rent from wut we be, An' here we air ascrougin' 'em out o' thir own dominions, these fellers are verry proppilly called Rank Heroes, and the more tha kill the ranker and more Herowick tha bekum.-H. B. it wuz "tumblebug" as he Writ it, but the parson put the Latten instid. i sed tother maid better meeter, but he said tha was eddykated peepl to Boston and tha would n't stan' it no how. idnow as tha wood and idnow as tha wood. H. B. he means human beins, that's wut he means. i spose he kinder thought tha wuz human beans ware the Xisle Poles comes from. -Н В. Ashelterin' 'em, ez Caleb sez, under our | Step up an' take a nipper, sir; I'm lar Anglo-saxon. The Mex'cans don't fight fair, they say, they piz'n all the water, Bein' they haint no lead, they make Thet our nation 's bigger 'n theirn an' so its rights air bigger, An' thet it's all to make 'em free thet we air pullin' trigger, Thet Anglo Saxondom's idee 's abreakin' 'em to pieces, An' thet idee 's thet every man doos jest wut he damn pleases; Ef I don't make his meanin' clear, perhaps in some respex I can, dreffle glad to see ye"; But now it's "Ware 's my eppylet? Ef I hed some on 'em to hum, I'd give I'd play the rogue's march on their wal, taint BIRDOFREDOM SAWIN. when hath Satan been to seek for attorneys?) [Those have not been wanting (as, indeed, who have maintained that our late inroad upon Mexico was undertaken not so much for the avenging of any national quarrel, as for the spreading of free institutions and of Protestantism. Capita vix duabus Anticyris medenda! Verily I admire that no pious sergeant among these new Crusaders beheld Martin Luther rid ing at the front of the host upon a tamed pontifical bull, as, in that former invasion of We Mexico, the zealous Gomara (spawn though he were of the Scarlet Woman) was favored with the infidels upon his apostolical lance. a vision of St. James of Compostella, skewering read, also, that Richard of the lion heart, haying gone to Palestine on a similar errand of merey, was divinely encouraged to cut the throats of such Paynims as refused to swallow the bread of life (doubtless that they might be thereafter incapacitated for swallowing the filthy gobbets of Mahound) by angels of heaven, who cried to the king and his knights, · Seigneurs, tuez! tuez! providentially using the Should come to Jaalam Centre fer to French tongue, as being the only one underargify an' spout on 't, I know thet "every man" don't mean The gals 'ould count the silver spoons the minnit they cleared out on 't. This goin' ware glory waits ye haint one agreeable feetur, An' ef it worn't fer wakin' snakes, I'd home agin short meter; O, would n't I be off, quick time, ef 't worn't thet I wuz sartin They'd let the daylight into me to pay me fer desartin! jest I don't approve o' tellin' tales, but stood by their auditors. This would argue for while, on the other hand, the Devil, teste Cotthe pantoglottism of these celestial intelligences, ton Mather, is unversed in certain of the Indian dialects. Yet must he be a semeiologist the most expert, making himself intelligible to every people and kindred by signs; no other discourse, indeed, being needful, than such as the mackerel-fisher holds with his finned quarry, who, if other bait be wanting, can by a bare bit of white rag at the end of a string captivate those foolish fishes. Such piscatorial persuasion is Satan cunning in. Before one he trails a hat and feather, or a bare feather without a hat; before another, a Presidential chair or a tidewaiter's stool, or a pulpit in the city, no matter what. To us, dangling there over our heads, they seem junkets dropped out of the seventh heaven, sops dipped in nectar, but, once in our mouths, they are all one, bits of fuzzy cotton. This, however, by the way. It is time now revocare gradum. While so many miracles of this sort, vouched by eyewitnesses, have en |