Ontil I fin❜ly clean giv out an' owned up thet he'd fetched me; An' when nine tenths o' th' perrish took to tumblin' roun' an' hollerin', I did n' fin' no gret in th' way o' turnin' tu an' follerin'. Soon ez Miss S. see thet, sez she, "Thet's wut I call wuth seein' ! Thet's actin' like a reas'nable an' intellectle bein'!" An' so we fin'lly made it up, concluded to hitch hosses, An' here I be 'n my ellermunt among creation's bosses; Arter I'd drawed sech heaps o' blanks, This leads me to another pint on which I've changed my plan O' thinkin' so 's't I might become a straight-out Southun man. Miss S. (her maiden name wuz Higgs, o' the fus' fem❜ly here) On her Ma's side 's all Juggernot, on Pa's all Cavileer, An' sence I've merried into her an' stept into her shoes, It ain't more 'n nateral thet I should modderfy my views: I've ben a-readin' in Debow ontil I 've fairly gut So 'nlightened thet I'd full ez lives ha' ben a Dook ez nut; An' when we've laid ye all out stiff, an' Jeff hez gut his crown, An' comes to pick his nobles out, wun't this child be in town! We'll hev an Age o' Chivverlry surpassin' Mister Burke's, Where every fem'ly is fus'-best an' nary white man works: Our system's sech, the thing 'll root ez easy ez a tater; For while your lords in furrin parts ain't noways marked by natur', Nor sot apart from ornery folks in featurs nor in figgers, Ef ourn'll keep their faces washed, you'll know 'em from their niggers. Ain't sech things wuth secedin' for, an' gittin' Thet waller in your low idees, an' will till all is blue? Fact is, we air a diff'rent race, an' I, for one, don't see, Sech havin' ollers ben the case, how w' ever did agree. It's sunthin' thet you lab'rin'-folks up North hed ough' to think on, Thet Higgses can't bemean themselves to rulin' by a Lincoln, Thet men, (an' guv'nors, tu, thet hez sech Normal names ez Pickens, Accustomed to no kin' o' work, 'thout 't is to givin' lickins, Can't masure votes with folks thet get their livins from their farms, An' prob'ly think thet Law's ez good ez hevin' coats o' arms. Sence I've ben here, I 've hired a chap to look about for me To git me a transplantable an' thrifty fem❜ly-tree, An' he tells me the Sawins is ez much o' Normal blood Ez Pickens an' the rest on 'em, an' older 'n Noah's flood. Your Normal schools wun't turn ye into Normals, for it 's clear, Ef eddykatin' done the thing, they'd be some skurcer here. Pickenses, Boggses, Pettuses, Magorfins, Letchers, Polks, Where can you scare up names like them among your mudsili folks? Ther''s nothin' to compare with 'em, you'd fin', ef you should glance, Among the tip-top femerlies in Englan', nor in France: I've hearn from 'sponsible men whose word wuzfull ez good's their note, Men thet can run their face for drinks, an' keep a Sunday coat, Thet they wuz all on 'em come down, and come down pooty fur, From folks thet, 'thout their crowns wuz on, ou' doors would n' never stir, Nor thet ther' warn't a Southun man but wut wuz primy fashy O the bes' blood in Europe, yis, an' Afriky an' Ashy: Sech bein' the case, is 't likely we should bend like cotton-wickin', Or set down under anythin' so low-lived ez a lickin'? More 'n this, -hain't we the literatoor an' science, tu, by gorry? Hain't we them intellectle twins, them giants, Simms an' Maury, Each with full twice the ushle brains, like nothin' thet I know, "Thout 't wuz a double-headed calf I see once to a show? For all thet, I warn't jest at fust in favor o' secedin'; I wuz for layin' low a spell to find out where 't wuz leadin', For hevin' South-Carliny try her hand at sepritnationin', She takin' resks an' findin' funds, an' we co-operationin', I mean a kin' o' hangin' roun' an' settin' on the fence, Till Prov'dunce pinted how to jump an' save the most expense; I recollected thet 'ere mine o' lead to Shiraz Centre Thet bust up Jabez Pettibone, an' did n't want to ventur' 'Fore I wuz sartin wut come out ud pay for wut went in, For swappin' silver off for lead ain't the sure way to win ; (An', fact, it doos look now ez thoughbut folks must live an' iarn We should git lead, an' more 'n we want, out o' the Old Consarn ;) But when I see a man so wise an' honest ez Buchanan A-lettin' us hev all the forts an' all the arms an' cannon, Admittin' we wuz nat'lly right an you wuz nat❜lly wrong, Coz you wuz lab'rin'-folks an' we wuz wut they call bong-tong, An' coz there warn't no fight in ye more 'n in a mashed potater, While two o' us can't skurcely meet but wut we fight by natur', An' th' ain't a bar-room here would pay for openin' on 't a night, Without it giv the priverlege o' bein' shot at sight, Which proves we 're Natur's noblemen, with whom it don't surprise The British aristoxy should feel boun' to sympathize, Seein' all this, an' seein', tu, the thing wuz strikin' roots Now this I thought a fees'ble plan, thet 'ud work smooth ez grease, Suitin' the Nineteenth Century an' Upper Ten idees, An' there I meant to stick, an' so did most o' th' leaders, tu, Coz we all thought the chance wuz good o' puttin' on it thru ; But Jeff he hit upon a way o' helpin' on us forrard By bein' unannermous, a trick you ain't quite up to, Norrard. A baldin hain't no more 'f a chance with them new apple-corers Than folks's oppersition views aginst the Ringtail Roarers; They'll take 'em out on him 'bout east, one canter on a rail Makes a man feel unannermous ez Jonah in the whale ; Or ef he's a slow-moulded cuss thet can't seem quite t' agree, He gits the noose by tellergraph upon the nighes' tree: Their mission-work with Afrikins hez put 'em up, thet 's sartin, To all the mos' across-lot ways o' Thet cairs conviction to the min' like Thet (ez an owl by daylight 'mongst a flock o' teazin' chirpers Sees clearer 'n mud the wickedness o eatin' little birds) I see my error an' agreed to shen it arterwurds: An' I should say, (to jedge our folks by facs in my possession,) Thet three's Unannermous where one's a 'Riginal Secession ; So it's a thing you fellers North may safely bet your chink on, Thet we're all water-proofed agin th' usurpin' reign o' Lincoln. Jeff's some. He's gut another plan thet hez pertic'lar merits, In givin' things a cherfle look an' stiffnin' loose-hung sperits; For while your million papers, wut with lyin' an' discussin', Keep folks's tempers all on eend a-fumin' an' a-fussin', A-wondrin' this an' guessin' thet, an' dreadin' every night, The breechin' o' the Univarse 'll break afore it's light, Our papers don't purtend to print on'y wut Guv'ment choose, An' thet insures us all to git the very best o' noose: Jeff hez it of all sorts an' kines, an' sarves it out ez wanted, So 's 't every man gits wut he likes an' nobody ain't scanted; Sometimes it's vict'ries, (they're 'bout all ther' is that 's cheap down here,) Sometimes it's France an' England on the jump to interfere. Fact is, the less the people know o' wut ther' is a-doin', The hendier 't is for Guv'ment, sence it henders trouble brewin'; An' noose is like a shinplaster, - it's good, ef you believe it, Or, wut's all same, the other man thet 's goin' to receive it: Ef you've a son in th' army, wy, it's comfortin' to hear He'll hev no gretter resk to run than seein' th' in'my's rear, Coz, ef an F. F. looks at 'em, they ollers break an' run, Or wilt right down ez debtors will thet stumble on a dun (An' this, ef an'thin', proves the wuth o' proper fem❜ly príde, Fer sech mean shucks ez creditors are all on Lincoln's side); I hev scrip thet wun't go off no more 'n a Beigin rifle, An' read thet it 's at par on 'Change, it makes me feel deli'fle; It's cheerin', tu, where every man mus' fortify his bed, To hear thet Freedom's the one thing our darkies mos❜ly dread, An' thet experunce, time 'n' agin, to Dixie's Land hez shown Ther''s nothin' like a powder-cask fr a stiddy corner-stone; Ain't it ez good ez nuts, when salt is sellin' by the ounce For its own weight in Treash'ry-bons, (ef bought in small amounts,) When even whiskey's gittin' skurce an' sugar can't be found, To know thet all the ellerments o' luxury abound? An' don't it glorify sal'-pork, to come to understand It's wut the Richmon' editors call fatness o' the land! Nex' thing to knowin' you're well off is nut to know when y' ain't; An' ef Jeff says all 's goin' wal, who 'll ventur' t' say it ain't? This cairn the Constitooshun roun' ez Jeff doos in his hat Is hendier a dreffle sight, an' comes more kin' o' pat. I tell ye wut, my jedgment is you 're pooty sure to fail, Ez long 'z the head keeps turnin' back for counsel to the tail : Th' advantiges of our consarn for bein' prompt air gret, While, 'long o' Congress, you can't strike, 'f you git an iron het; They bother roun' with argooin', an' var'ous sorts o' foolin', To make sure ef it's leg'lly het, an' all the while it's coolin', So's 't when you come to strike, it ain't no gret to wish ye j'y on, An' hurts the hammer 'z much or more ez wut it doos the iron, Jeff don't allow no jawin'-sprees for three months at a stretch, Knowin' the ears long speeches suits air mostly made to metch; He jes' ropes in your tonguey chaps an' reg'lar ten-inch bores An' lets' play at Congress, ef they du it with closed doors; So they ain't no more bothersome than ef we'd took an' sunk 'em, An' yit enj'y th' exclusive right to one another's Buncombe 'Thout doin' nobody no hurt, an' 'thout its costin' nothin', Their pay bein' jes' Confedrit funds, they findin' keep an' clothin' ; They taste the sweets o' public life, an' plan their little jobs, An' suck the Treash'ry, (no gret harm, for it 's ez dry ez cobs,) An' go thru all the motions jest ez safe ez in a prison, An' hev their business to themselves, while Buregard hez hisn: Ez long 'z he gives the Hessians fits, committees can't make bother 'Bout whether 't 's done the legle way or whether 't 's done the t'other. An' I tell you you 've gut to larn thet War ain't one long teeter Betwixt I wan' to an' 'T wun't du, de batin' like a skeetur Afore he lights, -all is, to give the other side a millin', An' arter thet 's done, th' ain't no resk but wut the lor 'll be willin'; No metter wut the guv'ment is, ez nigh ez I can hit it, A lickin' 's constitooshunal, pervidin' We don't git it. Jeff don't stan' dilly-dallyin', afore he takes a fort, (With no one in,) to git the leave o' the nex' Soopreme Court, Nor don't want forty-'leven weeks o' jawin' an' expoundin' To prove a nigger hez a right to save him, ef he's drowndin'; Whereas ole Abram 'd sink afore he 'd let a darkie boost him, Ef Taney should n't come along an' hed n't interdooced him. It ain't your twenty millions thet 'll ever block Jeff's game, But one Man thet wun't let 'em jog jest ez he's takin' aim: Your numbers they may strengthen ye or weaken ye, ez 't heppens They 're willin' to be helpin' hands or wuss'n-nothin' cap'ns. I've chose my side, an' 't ain't no odds ef I wuz drawed with magnets, Or ef I thought it prudenter to jine the nighes' bagnets; I've made my ch'ice, an' ciphered out, from all I see an' heard, Th' ole Constitooshun never 'd git her decks for action cleared, Long 'z you elect for Congressmen poor shotes thet want to go Coz they can't seem to git their grub no otherways than so, An' let your bes' men stay to home coz they wun't show ez talkers, Nor can't be hired to fool ye an' sof'soap ye at a caucus, Long 'z ye set by Rotashun more 'n ye do by folks's merits, Ez though experunce thriv by change o' sile, like corn an' kerrits, Long 'z you allow a critter's "claims - coz, spite o' shoves an' tippins, He's kep' his private pan jest where 't would ketch mos' public drippins, Long 'z A. 'll turn tu an' grin' B.'s exe, ef B. 'll help him grin' hisn, (An' thet's the main idee by which your leadin' men hev risen,)Long 'z you let ary exe be groun', 'less 't is to cut the weasan' - O' sneaks thet dunno till they're told wut is an' wut ain't Treason, Long 'z ye give out commissions to a lot o' peddlin' drones Thet trade in whiskey with their men an' skin 'em to their bones, Long 'z ye sift out "safe" canderdates thet no one ain't afeared on Coz they're so thund'rin' eminent for bein' never heard on, An' hain't no record, ez it 's called, for folks to pick a hole in, Ez ef it hurt a man to hev a body with a soul in, An' it wuz ostentashun to be showin' on 't about, When half his feller-citizens contrive to do without, Long 'z you suppose your votes can turn biled kebbage into brain, An' ary man thet 's pop'lar 's fit to drive a lightnin'-train, - Long 'z you believe democracy means I'm ez good ez you be, An' that a feller from the ranks can't be a knave or booby, than we, and am willing to wait till we have made this continent once more a place where freemen can live in security and honour, before assuming any further responsibility. This is the view taken by my neighbour Habakkuk Sloansure, Esq., the president of our bank, whose opinion in the practical affairs of life has great weight with me, as I have generally found it to be justified by the event, and whose counsel, had I followed it, would have saved me from an unfortunate investment of a considerable part of the painful economies of half a century in the Northwest-Passage Tunnel. After a somewhat animated discussion with this gentleman, a few days since, I expanded, on the audi alteram partem principle, something which he happened to say by way of illustration, into the following fable. No. IV. A MESSAGE OF JEFF DAVIS IN SECRET SESSION. Conjecturally reported by H. BIGLOW. TO THE EDITORS OF THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY. JAALAM, 10th March, 1862. GENTLEMEN, My leisure has been so entirely occupied with the hitherto fruitless endeavour to decypher the Runick inscription whose fortunate discovery I mentioned in my last communication, that I have not found time to discuss, as I had intended, the great problem of what we are to do with slavery, -a topick on which the publick mind in this place is at present more than ever agitated. What my wishes and hopes are I need not say, but for safe conclusions I do not conceive that we are yet in possession of facts enough on which to bottom them with certainty. Acknowledging the hand of Providence, as I do, in all events, I am sometimes inclined to think that they are wiser A rustic euphemism for the American variety of the Mephitis. H. W. FESTINA LENTE. ONCE on a time there was a pool needed; " are They don't come on so fast as we did: Old croakers, deacons of the mire. |