354 It warn't your bullyin' clack, John, Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess "To hoe jest now; but thet, somehow, Ez wal ez you an' me!" We ain't so weak an' poor, John, "The surest plan to make a Man Ez much ez you or me!" Our folks believe in Law, John; They 've left the axe an' saw, John, The anvil an' the plough. Ole Uncle S. sez he, " "I guess, Ef 't warn't for law," sez he, "There'd be one shindy from here to Indy; An' thet don't suit J. B. (When 't ain't 'twixt you an' We know we've gut a cause, John, Thet 's honest, just, an' true; me !) " We thought 't would win applause, John, 66 Ef nowheres else, from you. Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess Hangs by a rotten fibre o' cotton: Ez wal 'z in you an' me!" The South says, "Poor folks down!" John, White, yaller, black, an' brown, John: Now which is your idee? Ole Uncle S, sez he, guess, John preaches wal," sez he; "But, sermon thru, an' come to du, Why, there's the old J. B. A crowdin' you an' me!" Shall it be love, or hate, John? It's you thet's to decide; Ain't your bonds held by Fate, John, Like all the world's beside? Ole Uncle S, sez he, 66 I guess Wise men forgive,” sez he, "But not forgit; an' some time yit Thet truth may strike J. B., God means to make this land, John, Believe an' understand, John, Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess, God's price is high," sez he; "But nothin' else than wut He sells Wears long, an' thet J. B. May larn, like you an' me!" No. III. BIRDOFREDUM SAWIN, ESQ., TO MR. HOSEA BIGLOW. With the following Letter from the REVEREND HOMER WILBUR, A. M. TO THE EDITORS OF THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY. JAALAM, 7th Feb., 1862. RESPECTED FRIENDS, If I know my - self, and surely a man can hardly be supposed to have overpassed the limit of fourscore years without attaining to some proficiency in that most useful branch of learning, (e cœlo descendit, says the pagan poet,) I have no great smack of that weakness which would press upon the public attention any matter pertaining to my private affairs. But since the following letter of Mr. Sawin contains not only a direct allusion to myself, but that in connection with a topic of interest to all those engaged in the public ministrations of the sanctuary, I may be pardoned for touching briefly thereupon. Mr. Sawin was never a stated attendant upon my preaching, — never, as I believe, even an occasional one, since the erection of the new house (where we now worship) in 1845. He did, indeed, for a time, supply a not unacceptable bass in the choir; but, whether on some umbrage (omnibus hoc vitium est cantoribus) taken against the bass-viol, then, and till his decease in 1850, (æt. 77,) under the charge of Mr. Asaph Perley, or, as was reported by others, on account of an imminent subscription for a new bell, he thenceforth absented himself from all outward and visible communion. Yet he seems to have preserved, (alta mente repostum,) as it were, in the pickle of a mind soured by prejudice, a lasting scanner, as he would call it, against our staid and decent form of worship; for I would rather in that wise interpret his fling, than suppose that any chance tares sown by my pulpit discourses should survive so long, while good seed too often fails to root itself. I humbly trust that I have no personal feeling in the matter; though I know that, if we sound any man deep enough, our lead shall bring up the mud of human nature at last. The Bretons believe in an evil spirit |