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Ef it aint jest the thing thet 's well

pleasin' to God, It makes us thought highly on else

where abroad; The Rooshian black eagle looks blue

in his eerie An' shakes both his heads wen he

hears o' Monteery ; 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 On the tenderest part of our kings in

futuro – Hides 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 natiye

Amerrikins, An' turnin' quite faint in the midst of

his fooleries, Sneaks down stairs to bolt the front

door o' the Tooleries.*

Who is it dares say thet our naytional

eagle Wun't much longer be classed with ihe

birds thet air regal, Coz theirn be hooked beaks, an' she,

arter this slaughter, 'll bring back a bill ten times longer 'n

she ough' to”? Wut's your name? Come, I see ye,

you up-country teller, 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

doubi on it; Wy, he goes agin war, agin indirect

taxes, Agin sellin' wild lands 'cept to settlers 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 crit

ters an' savages, An' pitch into all kinds o’ briles an'

confusions The holl of our civilized, free institu

tions ; He writes fer thet ruther ursafe priut,

the Courier, An' likely ez not hez a squintin' to

Foorier ;
I'll be thet is, I mean

blest, Ef I hark to a word frum so noted a

pest; I sha'n'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

with axes,

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* Jortin is willing to allow of other mira. cles 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' tiine. 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 mis. fortune, our commiseration, and be not overhasty meanwhile in our censure of the French people, left for the first time to govern them. selves, remembering that wise sentence of Æschylus, "Απας δε τραχύς όστις αν νέον κρατη.

U. W.

I'll be

quarrel in print, I have no concern with them here, since the eyelids are a divinely granted shield against all such. Moreover, I have observed in inany modern books that the printed portion is becoining gradually smaller, and the number of blank urly-ltaves (as they are called) greater. Shoulu this fortunate tendency of literature continue, books will grow more valuable from year to year, and the whole Serbonian bog yield to the advances of firm arable land.

The sagacious Lacedaemonians hearing that Tesephone had bragged that he could talk all day long on any given subject, made no more ado, but forth with banished him, whereby they supplied him a topic and at the same time took care that his experiment upon it should be tried out of ear-shot.

I have wondered, in the Representatives' Chamber of our own Commonwealth, te mark how little impression seemed to be produced by that emblematic fish suspended over the heads of the members. Our wiser ancestors, no doubt, hung it there as being the animal which the Pythagoreans reverenced for its silence, and which certainly in that particular does not so well merit the epithet cold blooded, by which naturalists distinguish it, as certain bípeds, afflicted with ditch-water on the brain, who tak- occasion to tap themselves in Fan. euil Ilalls, meeting-houses, and other places of public resort. -- H. W.)

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 intelligible, by the last unintelligible, to our fellows. It has not seldom occurred to me (noting how in our national legislature ei erything runs to talk, as lettuces, if the season or the soil be unpropi. tious, shoot up lankly to seed, instead of forining handsome heads) that Babel was the first Congress, the earliest mill erected for the manufacture of gubble. In these days, what with Town Mectings, School Committees, Boards (luinber) of one kind and another, Congresses, Parliaments, Diets, Indian Councils, Palavers, and the like, there is scarce a village which has not its factories of this description driven by nik-and-) water power. I cannot concei:e the confusion of tongues to have been the curse of Bibel, since I esteem my ignorance of other languages as a kind of Martello-tower, in which I am safe froin the furious bombardments of foreign garru. lity. For this reason I have ever preferred the study of the dead languages, those priinitive formations being Ararats upon whose silent peaks I sit secure and watch this new deluge without fear, though it rain figures (simulacra, semblances) of speech forty days and nights together, as it not uncommonly happens. Thus is my coat, as it were, without buttons by which any but a vernacular wild bore can seize me. Is it not possible that the Shakers may intend to convey a quiet reproof and hint, in fastening their outer garients with hooks and eyes?

This reflection concerning Babel, which I find in no Comentary, was first thrown upon my mind when an excellent deacon of my congregation (being infected with the Second Advent delusion) assured me that he had received a first instalment of the gift of tongues as a small earnest of larger possessions in the like kind to follow. For, of a truth, I could not reconcile it with my ideas of the Divine justice and mercy that the single wall which protected people of other languages from the incursions of this other. wise well-meaning propagandist should be broken clown.

In reading Congressional debates, I have fancied, that, after the subsidence of those painful buzzings in the brain which result from such exercises, I detected a slender residuum of valuable information. I made the discovery that nothing takes longer in the saying than anything else, for as ex nihilo nihil fit, so from one polypus nothing any number of similar ones may be produced. I would recommend to the attention of viva voce debaters and controversialists the admirable example of the monk Copres, who, in the fourth century, stood for half an hour in the midst of a great tire, and thereby silenced a Manichæan antagonist who had less of the salamander in hiin. As for those who

No. v.



SOT TO A NUSRY RHYME. [The incident which gave rise to the debato satirized in the following verses was the un successful attempt of Drayton and Sayres to give freedom to seventy men and women, fellow-beings and fellow-Christians. Had Tripoli, instead of Washington, been the scene of this undertaking, the unhappy lead. ers in it would have been as secure of the theoretic as they now are of the practical part of martyrdom. I question whether the Dey of Tripoli is blessed with a District At. torney so benighted as ours at the seat of government. Very fitly is he named Key, who would allow himself to be made the in strument of locking the door of hope against sufferers in such a cause. Not all the waters of the ocean can cleanse the vile smutch of the jailer's fingers from off that little Key. Ahenea clavis, a brazen Key indeed!

Mr. Calhoun, who is made the chief speaker in this burlesque, seeins to think that the light of the nineteenth century is to be put out as soon as he tinkles his little cow-bell curfew. Whenever slavery is touched, he

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sets up nis scarecrow of dissolving the Union. This may do for the North, but I should conjecture that something more than a pumpkinlantern is required to scare manifest and irre. trievable Destiny out of her path. Mr. Cal. houn cannot let go the apro:-string of the Past. The Past is a good nurse, but we must be weaned froin her sooner or later, even though, like Plotinus, we should run home from school to ask the breast, aiter we are tolerably well-grown youths. It will not do for us to hile our faces in her lap, whenever the strange Future holds out her arms and asks us to come to her.

But we are all alike. We have all heard it said, often enough, that little boys must not play with fire; and yet, if the matches be taken away from us, and put out of reach upon the shelf, we must needs get into our little corner, and scowl and stamp and threater the dire revenge of going to bed without our supper. The world shall stop tiil we get our dangerous plaything again. Dane Earth, meanwhile, who has inore than enough household matters to mind, goes bustling hither and thither as a hiss or a sputter tells her that this or that kettle of hers is boiling over, and before bedtime we are glad to eat our porridge cold, and gulp down our dignity along with it.

Mr. Calhoun has somehow acquired the name of a great statesman, and, if it be great statesmanship to put lance in rest and run a tilt at the Spirit of the Age with the certainty of being next moment hurled neck and heels into the dust amid universal laughter, he deserves the title. He is the Sir Kay of our modern chivalry. He should remember the old Scandinavian mythus. Thor was the strongest of gods, but he could not wrestle with line, nor so much as lift up a fold of the great snake which knit the universe together; and when he smote the Earth, though with his terrible mallet, it was but as if a leaf had fallen. Yet all the while it sremed to Thor that he had only been wrestling with an old woman, striving to lift a cat, and striking a stupid giant on the head.

And in old time, doubtless, the giants were stupid, and there was no better sport for the Sir Launcelots and Sir Gawins than to go about cutting off their great blundering he us with enchanted swords. But things have wonderfully changed. It is the giants, nowadays, that have the science and the intelligence, while the chivalrous Don Quixotes of Conservatisin still cumber themselves with the clumsy armor of a bygone age. On whirl, the restless globe through unsounded time with its cities and its silences, its births an I funerals, half light, half shade, but never whlly dark, and sure to swing round into the htpy morning at last. With an involuntary smile, one sees Mr. Calhoun letting slip his pack-thread cable with a crooked pin at the end of it to anchor South Carolina upon the bank and shoal of the Past.-H. W.]

sez he.

“The North haint no kind o’ bisness

with nothin', An' you've no idee how much bother

it saves ; We aint none riled by their frettin' an'

We're used to layin' the string on

our slaves."
Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he ;-

Sez Mister Foote,

“I should like to shoot The holl gang, by the gret horn

spoon !” sez he. “Freedom's Keystone is Slavery, thet

ther's no doubt on,
It's sutthin' thet's - wha' d'

ye call it? - divine, An' the slaves thet we ollers make the

most out on
Air them north o' Mason an' Dixon's

Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he: -

“ Fer all thet,” se: Mangum,

“'T would be bette: te hanc 'em, An’ so git redon’em SOồn,” sez ha.

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“ Gen'nle Cass, Sir, you need n't be

twitchin' your collar, Your merit's quite clear by the dut

on your knees, At the North we don't make no dis

tinctions o' color ; You can all take a lick at our shoes

wen you please." Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he:

Sez Mister Jarnagin,

“They wunt hev to larn agin, They all on ’em know the old toon,”

Wen our eagle kicks yourn from the

paytional nest," Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he:

0," sez Westcott o' Florida,

“Wut treason is horrider Then our priv'leges tryin' to

sez he.

sez he.


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oes, -SPEAK! Nature, through her thousand trumpets of freedom, her stars, her sunrises, her seas, her winds, her cataracts, her mountains blue with cloudy pines, blows jubilant encouragement, and cries, -SPEAK! From the soul's treinbling abysses the still, small voice not vaguely murmurs, --SPEAK! But, alas! the Constitution and the Honorable Mr. Bagowind, M. C., say, - BE DUMB !

It occurs to ine to suggest, as a topic of inquiry in this connection, whether, on that momentous occasion when the goats and the sheep shall be parted, the Constitution and the Honorable Mr. Bagowind, M. C., will be expected to take their places on the left as our hircine vicars.

Quid sum miser tunc dicturus?

Quem patronum roga'urus? There is a point where toleration sinks into sheer baseness and poltroonery. The toleration of the worst leads us to look on what is barely better as good enough, and to worship what is only moderately good. Woe to that man, or that nation, to whom mediocrity has become an ideal!

Has our experiment of self-government succeeded, if it barely marage to rub and go? Here, now, is a piece of barbarism which Christ and the nineteenth century say shall cease, and which Messrs. Smith, Brown, and others say shall not cease. I would ly no means deny the eminent respectability of these gentlemen, but I confess, that, in such a wrestling-match, I cannot help having my fears for them. Discite justitiam, moniti, et non temnere.

H. W.)

[It was said of old time, that riches have wings; and, though this be not applicable in a literal strictness to the wealth of our patri. arcial brethren of the South, yet it is clear that their possession; have legs, and an unaccountable propensity for using them in a northerly direction. Iinarvel that the grand jury of Washington did not find a true will against the North Star for aiding and abet. ting Drayton and Sayres. It would have been quite of a piece with the intelligence displayed by the South on other questions connected with slavery: I think that no ship of state was ever freighted with a more veri. table Jonah than this same domestic institution of ours. Mephistopheles himself could not feign so bitterly, so satirically sad a sight as this of three millions of human beings crushed beyond help or hope by this one mighty argument, - Our fathers knew no better! Nevertheless, it is the unavoidable destiny of Jonahs to be cast overboard sooner or later. Or shall we try the experiment of hiding our Jonah in a safe place, that none may lay hands on him to make jetsam of hiin? Let us, then, with equal fore. thought and wisdoin, lash ourselves to the anchor, and await, in pious confidence, the certain result. Perhaps our suspicious passenger is no Jonah after all, being black. For it is well known that a superintending Providence made a kind of sandwich of Ham and his descendants, to be devoured by the Caucasian race.

In God's name, let all, who hear nearer and nearer the hungry moan of the storm and the growl of the breakers, speak out! But, alas! we have no right to interfere. If a man pluck an apple of mine, he shall be in danger of the justice; but if he steal iny brother, I must be silent. Who says this? Our Constitution, consecrated by the callous consuetude of sixty years, and grasped in triumphant argument by the left hand of him whose right hand clutches the clotted slave. wip. Justice, venerable with the undethronable majesty of countless æons, says, -SPEAK! The Past, wise with the sorrows ani desolations or ages, froin amid her shatdered fanes and wolf-housing palaces, ech

No. VI.



(AT the special instance of Mr. Biglow, I preface the following satire with an extract from a sermon preached during the past summer, from Ezekiel xxxiv. 2: “Son of man, prophesy against the shepherds of Is

Since the Sabbath on which this discourse was delivered, the editor of the “Jaalam Independent Blundcrbuss" has un. accountably absented himself from our house of worship.

“I know of no so responsible position as that of the public journalist. The editor of our day bears the same relation to his time that the clerk bore to the ave before the invention of printing. Indeed, the position which he holds is that which the clergyman should hold even now. But the clergyman chooses to walk off to the extreme edge of the world, and to throw such seed as he has clear over into that darkness which he calls

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