No. IV.

[The attentive reader will doubtless have perceived in the foregoing poem an allusion to that pernicious sentiment,—"Our country, right or wrong." It is an abuse of language to call a certain portion of land much more certain personages elevated for the time being to high station, our country. I would not sever nor loosen a single one of those ties by which we are united to the spot of our birth, nor minish by a tittle the respect due to the Magistrate. I love our own Bay State too well to do the one, and as for the other, I have myself for nigh forty years exercised, however unworthily, the function of Justice of the Peace, having been called thereto by theunsolicited kindness of that most excellent man and upright patriot, Caleb Strong.Patriæ fumus igne alieno luculentioris best qualified with this,—Ubi libertas, ibi patria. We are inhabitants of two worlds, and owe a double, but not a divided, allegiance. In virtue of our clay, this little ball of earth exacts a certain loyalty of us; while, in our capacity as spirits, we are admitted citizens of an invisible and holier fatherland. There is a patriotism of the soul whose claim absolves us from our other and terrene fealty. Our true country is that ideal realm which we represent to ourselves under the names of religion, duty, and the like. Our terrestrial organizations are but far-off approaches to so fair a model, and all they are verily traitors who resist not any attempt to divert them from this their original intendment. When, therefore, one would have us to fling up our caps and shout with the multitude,—"Our country, however bounded!" he demands of us that we sacrifice the larger to the less, the higher to the lower, and that we yield to the imaginary claims of a few acres of soil our duty and privilege as liegemen of Truth. Our true country is bounded on the north and the south, on the east and the west, by Justice, and when she oversteps that invisible boundary-line by so much as a hair's-breadth, she ceases to be our mother, and chooses rather to be looked uponquasi noverca. That is a hard choice, when our earthly love of country calls upon us to tread one path and our duty points us to another. We must make as noble and becoming an election as did Penelope between Icarius and Ulysses. Veiling our faces, we must take silently the hand of Duty to follow her.Shortly after the publication of the foregoing poem, there appeared some comments upon it in one of the public prints which seemed to call for some animadversion. I accordingly addressed to Mr. Buckingham, of theBoston Courier, the following letter."Jaalam, November 4, 1847."To the Editor of the Courier:"Respected Sir,—Calling at the post-office this morning, our worthy and efficient postmaster offered for my perusal a paragraph in the Boston Morning Post of the 3d instant, wherein certain effusions of the pastoral muse are attributed to the pen of Mr. James Russell Lowell. For ought I know or can affirm to the contrary, this Mr. Lowell may be a very deserving person and a youth of parts (though I have seen verses of his which I could never rightly understand); and if he be such, he, I am certain, as well as I, would be free from any proclivity to appropriate to himself whatever of credit (or discredit) may honestly belong to another. I am confident, that, in penning these few lines, I am only forestalling a disclaimer from that young gentleman, whose silence hitherto, when rumour pointed to himward, has excited in my bosom mingled emotions of sorrow and surprise. Well may my young parishioner, Mr. Biglow, exclaim with the poet,"'Sic vos non vobis' &c.;though, in saying this, I would not convey the impression that he is a proficient in the Latin tongue,—the tongue, I might add, of a Horace and a Tully."Mr. B. does not employ his pen, I can safely say, for any lucre of worldly gain, or to be exalted by the carnal plaudits of men,digito monstrari, &c. He does not wait upon Providence for mercies, and in his heart meanmerces. But I should esteem myself as verily deficient in my duty (who am his friend and in some unworthy sort his spiritualfidus Achates, &c.), if I did not step forward to claim for him whatever measure of applause might be assigned to him by the judicious."If this were a fitting occasion, I might venture here a brief dissertation touching the manner and kind of my young friend'spoetry. But I dubitate whether this abstruser sort of speculation (though enlivened by some apposite instances from Aristophanes) would sufficiently interest your oppidan readers. As regards their satirical tone, and their plainness of speech, I will only say, that, in my pastoral experience, I have found that the Arch-Enemy loves nothing better than to be treated as a religious, moral, and intellectual being, and that there is noapage Sathanas! so potent as ridicule. But it is a kind of weapon that must have a button of good-nature on the point of it."The productions of Mr. B. have been stigmatized in some quarters as unpatriotic; but I can vouch that he loves his native soil with that hearty, though discriminating, attachment which springs from an intimate social intercourse of many years' standing. In the ploughing season, no one has a deeper share in the well-being of the country than he. If Dean Swift were right in saying that he who makes two blades of grass grow where one grew before confers a greater benefit on the state than he who taketh a city, Mr. B. might exhibit a fairer claim to the Presidency than General Scott himself. I think that some of those disinterested lovers of the hard-handed democracy, whose fingers have never touched anything rougher than the dollars of our common country, would hesitate to compare palms with him. It would do your heart good, respected Sir, to see that young man now. He cuts a cleaner and wider swarth than any in this town."But it is time for me to be at my Post. It is very clear that my young friend's shot has struck the lintel, for the Post is shaken (Amos ix. 1). The editor of that paper is a strenuous advocate of the Mexican war, and a colonel, as I am given to understand. I presume, that, being necessarily absent in Mexico, he has left his journal in some less judicious hands. At any rate, the Post has been too swift on this occasion. It could hardly have cited a more incontrovertible line from anypoem than that which it has selected for animadversion, namely,—"'We kind o' thought Christ went agin war an' pillage.'"If the Post maintains the converse of this proposition, it can hardly be considered as a safe guide-post for the moral and religious portions of its party, however many other excellent qualities of a post it may be blessed with. There is a sign in London on which is painted,—'The Green Man.' It would do very well as a portrait of any individual who would support so unscriptural a thesis. As regards the language of the line in question, I am bold to say that He who readeth the hearts of men will not account any dialect unseemly which conveys a sound and pious sentiment. I could wish that such sentiments were more common, however uncouthly expressed. Saint Ambrose affirms, thatveritas a quocunque(why not, thenquomodocunque?)dicatur, a spiritu sancto est. Digest also this of Baxter:—'The plainest words are the most profitable oratory in weightiest matters.'"When the paragraph in question was shown to Mr. Biglow, the only part of it which seemed to give him any dissatisfaction was that which classed him with the Whig party. He says, that, if resolutions are a nourishing kind of diet, that party must be in a very hearty and flourishing condition; for that they have quietly eaten more good ones of their own baking than he could have conceived to be possible without repletion. He has been for some years past (I regret to say) an ardent opponent of those sound doctrines of protective policy which form so prominent a portion of the creed of that party. I confess, that, in some discussions which I have had with him on this point in my study, he has displayed a vein of obstinacy which I had not hitherto detected in his composition. He is also (horresco referens) infected in no small measure with thepeculiar notions of a print called the Liberator, whose heresies I take every proper opportunity of combating, and of which, I thank God, I have never read a single line."I did not see Mr. B.'s verses until they appeared in print, and thereiscertainly one thing in them which I consider highly improper. I allude to the personal references to myself by name. To confer notoriety on an humble individual who is labouring quietly in his vocation, and who keeps his cloth as free as he can from the dust of the political arena (thoughvæ mihi si non evangelizavero), is no doubt an indecorum. The sentiments which he attributes to me I will not deny to be mine. They were embodied, though in a different form, in a discourse preached upon the last day of public fasting, and were acceptable to my entire people (of whatever political views), except the postmaster, who dissentedex officio. I observe that you sometimes devote a portion of your paper to a religious summary. I should be well pleased to furnish a copy of my discourse for insertion in this department of your instructive journal. By omitting the advertisements, it might easily be got within the limits of a single number, and I venture to insure you the sale of some scores of copies in this town. I will cheerfully render myself responsible for ten. It might possibly be advantageous to issue it as anextra. But perhaps you will not esteem it an object, and I will not press it. My offer does not spring from any weak desire of seeing my name in print; for I can enjoy this satisfaction at any time by turning to the Triennial Catalogue of the University, where it also possesses that added emphasis of Italics with which those of my calling are distinguished."I would simply add, that I continue to fit ingenuous youth for college, and that I have two spacious and airy sleeping apartments at this moment unoccupied.Ingenuas didicisse, &c. Terms, which vary according to the circumstancesof the parents, may be known on application to me by letter, post paid. In all cases the lad will be expected to fetch his own towels. This rule, Mrs. W. desires me to add, has no exceptions."Respectfully, your obedient servant,"HOMER WILBUR, A.M."P.S. Perhaps the last paragraph may look like an attempt to obtain the insertion of my circular gratuitously. If it should appear to you in that light, I desire that you would erase it, or charge for it at the usual rates, and deduct the amount from the proceeds in your hands from the sale of my discourse, when it shall be printed. My circular is much longer and more explicit, and will be forwarded without charge to any who may desire it. It has been very neatly executed on a letter sheet, by a very deserving printer, who attends upon my ministry, and is a creditable specimen of the typographic art. I have one hung over my mantelpiece in a neat frame, where it makes a beautiful and appropriate ornament, and balances the profile of Mrs. W., cut with her toes by the young lady born without arms.H. W."I have in the foregoing letter mentioned General Scott in connexion with the Presidency, because I have been given to understand that he has blown to pieces and otherwise caused to be destroyed more Mexicans than any other commander. His claim would therefore be deservedly considered the strongest. Until accurate returns of the Mexican killed, wounded, and maimed be obtained, it would be difficult to settle these nice points of precedence. Should it prove that any other officer has been more meritorious and destructive than General. S., and has thereby rendered himself moreworthy of the confidence and support of the conservative portion of our community, I shall cheerfully insert his name, instead of that of General S., in a future edition. It may be thought, likewise, that General S. has invalidated his claims by too much attention to the decencies of apparel, and the habits belonging to a gentleman. These abstruser points of statesmanship are beyond my scope. I wonder not that successful military achievement should attract the admiration of the multitude. Rather do I rejoice with wonder to behold how rapidly this sentiment is losing its hold upon the popular mind. It is related of Thomas Warton, the second of that honoured name who held the office of Poetry Professor at Oxford, that, when one wished to find him, being absconded, as was his wont, in some obscure alehouse, he was counselled to traverse the city with a drum and fife, the sound of which inspiring music would be sure to draw the Doctor from his retirement into the street. We are all more or less bitten with this martial insanity.Nescio quâ dulcedine ... cunctos ducit.I confess to some infection of that itch myself. When I see a Brigadier-General maintaining his insecure elevation in the saddle under the severe fire of the training-field, and when I remember that some military enthusiasts, through haste, inexperience, or an over-desire to lend reality to those fictitious combats, will sometimes discharge their ramrods, I cannot but admire, while I deplore, the mistaken devotion of those heroic officers.Semel insanivimus omnes.I was myself, during the late war with Great Britain, chaplain of a regiment, which was fortunately never called to active military duty. I mention this circumstance with regret rather than pride. Had I been summoned to actual warfare, I trust that I might have been strengthened to bear myself after the manner of that reverend father in our New England Israel, Dr. Benjamin Colman, who, as we are told in Turell's life of him,when the vessel in which he had taken passage for England was attacked by a French privateer, "fought like a philosopher and a Christian, ... and prayed all the while he charged and fired." As this note is already long, I shall not here enter upon a discussion of the question, whether Christians may lawfully be soldiers. I think it sufficiently evident, that, during the first two centuries of the Christian era, at least, the two professions were esteemed incompatible. Consult Jortin on this head.—H. W.]

Shortly after the publication of the foregoing poem, there appeared some comments upon it in one of the public prints which seemed to call for some animadversion. I accordingly addressed to Mr. Buckingham, of theBoston Courier, the following letter.

"Jaalam, November 4, 1847.

"To the Editor of the Courier:

"Respected Sir,—Calling at the post-office this morning, our worthy and efficient postmaster offered for my perusal a paragraph in the Boston Morning Post of the 3d instant, wherein certain effusions of the pastoral muse are attributed to the pen of Mr. James Russell Lowell. For ought I know or can affirm to the contrary, this Mr. Lowell may be a very deserving person and a youth of parts (though I have seen verses of his which I could never rightly understand); and if he be such, he, I am certain, as well as I, would be free from any proclivity to appropriate to himself whatever of credit (or discredit) may honestly belong to another. I am confident, that, in penning these few lines, I am only forestalling a disclaimer from that young gentleman, whose silence hitherto, when rumour pointed to himward, has excited in my bosom mingled emotions of sorrow and surprise. Well may my young parishioner, Mr. Biglow, exclaim with the poet,

"'Sic vos non vobis' &c.;

though, in saying this, I would not convey the impression that he is a proficient in the Latin tongue,—the tongue, I might add, of a Horace and a Tully.

"Mr. B. does not employ his pen, I can safely say, for any lucre of worldly gain, or to be exalted by the carnal plaudits of men,digito monstrari, &c. He does not wait upon Providence for mercies, and in his heart meanmerces. But I should esteem myself as verily deficient in my duty (who am his friend and in some unworthy sort his spiritualfidus Achates, &c.), if I did not step forward to claim for him whatever measure of applause might be assigned to him by the judicious.

"If this were a fitting occasion, I might venture here a brief dissertation touching the manner and kind of my young friend'spoetry. But I dubitate whether this abstruser sort of speculation (though enlivened by some apposite instances from Aristophanes) would sufficiently interest your oppidan readers. As regards their satirical tone, and their plainness of speech, I will only say, that, in my pastoral experience, I have found that the Arch-Enemy loves nothing better than to be treated as a religious, moral, and intellectual being, and that there is noapage Sathanas! so potent as ridicule. But it is a kind of weapon that must have a button of good-nature on the point of it.

"The productions of Mr. B. have been stigmatized in some quarters as unpatriotic; but I can vouch that he loves his native soil with that hearty, though discriminating, attachment which springs from an intimate social intercourse of many years' standing. In the ploughing season, no one has a deeper share in the well-being of the country than he. If Dean Swift were right in saying that he who makes two blades of grass grow where one grew before confers a greater benefit on the state than he who taketh a city, Mr. B. might exhibit a fairer claim to the Presidency than General Scott himself. I think that some of those disinterested lovers of the hard-handed democracy, whose fingers have never touched anything rougher than the dollars of our common country, would hesitate to compare palms with him. It would do your heart good, respected Sir, to see that young man now. He cuts a cleaner and wider swarth than any in this town.

"But it is time for me to be at my Post. It is very clear that my young friend's shot has struck the lintel, for the Post is shaken (Amos ix. 1). The editor of that paper is a strenuous advocate of the Mexican war, and a colonel, as I am given to understand. I presume, that, being necessarily absent in Mexico, he has left his journal in some less judicious hands. At any rate, the Post has been too swift on this occasion. It could hardly have cited a more incontrovertible line from anypoem than that which it has selected for animadversion, namely,—

"'We kind o' thought Christ went agin war an' pillage.'

"If the Post maintains the converse of this proposition, it can hardly be considered as a safe guide-post for the moral and religious portions of its party, however many other excellent qualities of a post it may be blessed with. There is a sign in London on which is painted,—'The Green Man.' It would do very well as a portrait of any individual who would support so unscriptural a thesis. As regards the language of the line in question, I am bold to say that He who readeth the hearts of men will not account any dialect unseemly which conveys a sound and pious sentiment. I could wish that such sentiments were more common, however uncouthly expressed. Saint Ambrose affirms, thatveritas a quocunque(why not, thenquomodocunque?)dicatur, a spiritu sancto est. Digest also this of Baxter:—'The plainest words are the most profitable oratory in weightiest matters.'

"When the paragraph in question was shown to Mr. Biglow, the only part of it which seemed to give him any dissatisfaction was that which classed him with the Whig party. He says, that, if resolutions are a nourishing kind of diet, that party must be in a very hearty and flourishing condition; for that they have quietly eaten more good ones of their own baking than he could have conceived to be possible without repletion. He has been for some years past (I regret to say) an ardent opponent of those sound doctrines of protective policy which form so prominent a portion of the creed of that party. I confess, that, in some discussions which I have had with him on this point in my study, he has displayed a vein of obstinacy which I had not hitherto detected in his composition. He is also (horresco referens) infected in no small measure with thepeculiar notions of a print called the Liberator, whose heresies I take every proper opportunity of combating, and of which, I thank God, I have never read a single line.

"I did not see Mr. B.'s verses until they appeared in print, and thereiscertainly one thing in them which I consider highly improper. I allude to the personal references to myself by name. To confer notoriety on an humble individual who is labouring quietly in his vocation, and who keeps his cloth as free as he can from the dust of the political arena (thoughvæ mihi si non evangelizavero), is no doubt an indecorum. The sentiments which he attributes to me I will not deny to be mine. They were embodied, though in a different form, in a discourse preached upon the last day of public fasting, and were acceptable to my entire people (of whatever political views), except the postmaster, who dissentedex officio. I observe that you sometimes devote a portion of your paper to a religious summary. I should be well pleased to furnish a copy of my discourse for insertion in this department of your instructive journal. By omitting the advertisements, it might easily be got within the limits of a single number, and I venture to insure you the sale of some scores of copies in this town. I will cheerfully render myself responsible for ten. It might possibly be advantageous to issue it as anextra. But perhaps you will not esteem it an object, and I will not press it. My offer does not spring from any weak desire of seeing my name in print; for I can enjoy this satisfaction at any time by turning to the Triennial Catalogue of the University, where it also possesses that added emphasis of Italics with which those of my calling are distinguished.

"I would simply add, that I continue to fit ingenuous youth for college, and that I have two spacious and airy sleeping apartments at this moment unoccupied.Ingenuas didicisse, &c. Terms, which vary according to the circumstancesof the parents, may be known on application to me by letter, post paid. In all cases the lad will be expected to fetch his own towels. This rule, Mrs. W. desires me to add, has no exceptions.

"Respectfully, your obedient servant,"HOMER WILBUR, A.M.

"P.S. Perhaps the last paragraph may look like an attempt to obtain the insertion of my circular gratuitously. If it should appear to you in that light, I desire that you would erase it, or charge for it at the usual rates, and deduct the amount from the proceeds in your hands from the sale of my discourse, when it shall be printed. My circular is much longer and more explicit, and will be forwarded without charge to any who may desire it. It has been very neatly executed on a letter sheet, by a very deserving printer, who attends upon my ministry, and is a creditable specimen of the typographic art. I have one hung over my mantelpiece in a neat frame, where it makes a beautiful and appropriate ornament, and balances the profile of Mrs. W., cut with her toes by the young lady born without arms.

H. W."

I have in the foregoing letter mentioned General Scott in connexion with the Presidency, because I have been given to understand that he has blown to pieces and otherwise caused to be destroyed more Mexicans than any other commander. His claim would therefore be deservedly considered the strongest. Until accurate returns of the Mexican killed, wounded, and maimed be obtained, it would be difficult to settle these nice points of precedence. Should it prove that any other officer has been more meritorious and destructive than General. S., and has thereby rendered himself moreworthy of the confidence and support of the conservative portion of our community, I shall cheerfully insert his name, instead of that of General S., in a future edition. It may be thought, likewise, that General S. has invalidated his claims by too much attention to the decencies of apparel, and the habits belonging to a gentleman. These abstruser points of statesmanship are beyond my scope. I wonder not that successful military achievement should attract the admiration of the multitude. Rather do I rejoice with wonder to behold how rapidly this sentiment is losing its hold upon the popular mind. It is related of Thomas Warton, the second of that honoured name who held the office of Poetry Professor at Oxford, that, when one wished to find him, being absconded, as was his wont, in some obscure alehouse, he was counselled to traverse the city with a drum and fife, the sound of which inspiring music would be sure to draw the Doctor from his retirement into the street. We are all more or less bitten with this martial insanity.Nescio quâ dulcedine ... cunctos ducit.I confess to some infection of that itch myself. When I see a Brigadier-General maintaining his insecure elevation in the saddle under the severe fire of the training-field, and when I remember that some military enthusiasts, through haste, inexperience, or an over-desire to lend reality to those fictitious combats, will sometimes discharge their ramrods, I cannot but admire, while I deplore, the mistaken devotion of those heroic officers.Semel insanivimus omnes.I was myself, during the late war with Great Britain, chaplain of a regiment, which was fortunately never called to active military duty. I mention this circumstance with regret rather than pride. Had I been summoned to actual warfare, I trust that I might have been strengthened to bear myself after the manner of that reverend father in our New England Israel, Dr. Benjamin Colman, who, as we are told in Turell's life of him,when the vessel in which he had taken passage for England was attacked by a French privateer, "fought like a philosopher and a Christian, ... and prayed all the while he charged and fired." As this note is already long, I shall not here enter upon a discussion of the question, whether Christians may lawfully be soldiers. I think it sufficiently evident, that, during the first two centuries of the Christian era, at least, the two professions were esteemed incompatible. Consult Jortin on this head.—H. W.]

REMARKS OF INCREASE D. O'PHACE, ESQUIRE, AT AN EX-TRUMPERY CAUCUS IN STATE STREET, REPORTED BY MR. H. BIGLOW.

[The ingenious reader will at once understand that no such speech as the following was evertotidem verbispronounced. But there are simpler and less guarded wits, for the satisfying of which such an explanation may be needful. For there are certain invisible lines, which as Truth successively overpasses, she becomes Untruth to one and another of us, as a large river, flowing from one kingdom into another, sometimes takes a new name, albeit the waters undergo no change, how small soever. There is, moreover, a truth of fiction more veracious than the truth of fact, as that of the Poet, which represents to us things and events as they ought to be, rather than servilely copies them as they are imperfectly imaged in the crooked and smoky glass of our mundane affairs. It is this which makes the speech of Antonius, though originally spoken in no wider a forum than the brain of Shakspeare, more historically valuable than that other which Appian has reported, by as much as the understanding of the Englishman was more comprehensive than that of the Alexandrian. Mr. Biglow, in the present instance, has only made use of a licence assumed by all the historians of antiquity, who put into the mouths of various characters such words as seem to them most fitting to the occasion and to the speaker. If it be objected that no such oration could ever have been delivered, I answer, that there are few assemblages for speech-making which do not betterdeserve the title ofParliamentum Indoctorumthan did the sixth Parliament of Henry the Fourth, and that men still continue to have as much faith in the Oracle of Fools as ever Pantagruel had. Howell, in his letters, recounts a merry tale of a certain ambassador of Queen Elizabeth, who, having written two letters, one to her Majesty and the other to his wife, directed them at cross-purposes, so that the Queen was beducked and bedeared and requested to send a change of hose, and the wife was beprincessed and otherwise unwontedly besuperlatived, till the one feared for the wits of her ambassador, the other for those of her husband. In like manner it may be presumed that our speaker has misdirected some of his thoughts, and given to the whole theatre what he would have wished to confide only to a select auditory at the back of the curtain. For it is seldom that we can get any frank utterance from men, who address, for the most part, a Buncombe either in this world or the next. As for their audiences, it may be truly said of our people, that they enjoy one political institution in common with the ancient Athenians: I mean a certain profitless kind ofostracism, wherewith, nevertheless, they seem hitherto well enough content. For in Presidential elections, and other affairs of the sort, whereas I observe that theoystersfall to the lot of comparatively few, theshells(such as the privileges of voting as they are told to do by theostrivoriaforesaid, and of huzzaing at public meetings) are very liberally distributed among the people, as being their prescriptive and quite sufficient portion.The occasion of the speech is supposed to be Mr. Palfrey's refusal to vote for the Whig candidate for the Speakership.—H. W.]

The occasion of the speech is supposed to be Mr. Palfrey's refusal to vote for the Whig candidate for the Speakership.—H. W.]

No? Hez he? He haint, though? Wut? Voted agin him?Ef the bird of our country could ketch him, she 'd skin him;I seem 's though I see her, with wrath in each quill,Like a chancery lawyer, afilin' her bill,An' grindin' her talents ez sharp ez all nater,To pounce like a writ on the back o' the traiter.Forgive me, my friends, ef I seem to be het,But a crisis like this must with vigour be met;Wen an Arnold the star-spangled banner bestains,Holl Fourth o' Julys seem to bile in my veins.Who ever 'd ha' thought sech a pisonous rigWould be run by a chap thet wuz chose fer a Wig?"We knowed wut his principles wuz 'fore we sent him"?What wuz ther in them from this vote to pervent him?A marciful Providunce fashioned us hollerO' purpose thet we might our principles swaller;It can hold any quantity on 'em, the belly can,An' bring 'em up ready fer use like the pelican,Or more like the kangaroo, who (wich is stranger)Puts her family into her pouch wen there 's danger.Aint principle precious? then, who 's goin' to use itWen there 's risk o' some chaps gittin' up to abuse it?I can't tell the wy on 't, but nothin' issosureEz thet principle kind o' gits spiled by exposure;[13]A man thet lets all sorts o' folks git a sight on 'tOugh' to hev it all took right away, every mite on 't;Ef he can't keep it all to himself when it 's wise to,He aint one it 's fit to trust nothin' so nice to.Besides, ther 's a wonderful power in latitudeTo shift a man's morril relations an' attitude;Some flossifers think thet a fakkilty 's grantedThe minnit it 's proved to be thoroughly wanted,Thet a change o' demand makes a change o' conditionAn' thet everythin' 's nothin' except by position;Ez, fer instance, thet rubber-trees fust begun bearin'Wen p'litickle conshunces come into wearin',—Thet the fears of a monkey, whose holt chanced to fail,Drawed the vertibry out to a prehensile tail;So, wen one 's chose to Congriss, ez soon ez he 's in it,A collar grows right round his neck in a minnit,An' sartin it is thet a man cannot be strictIn bein' himself, when he gets to the Deestrict,Fer a coat thet sets wal here in ole Massachusetts,Wen it gits on to Washinton, somehow askew sets.Resolves, do you say, o' the Springfield Convention?Thet 's percisely the pint I was goin' to mention;Resolves air a thing we most gen'ally keep ill,They 're a cheap kind o' dust fer the eyes o' the people;A parcel o' delligits jest git togetherAn' chat fer a spell o' the crops an' the weather,Then, comin' to order, they squabble awileAn' let off the speeches they 're ferful 'll spile;Then—Resolve,—Thet we wunt hev an inch o' slave territory;That President Polk's holl perceedins air very tory;Thet the war 's a damned war, an' them thet enlist in itShould hev a cravat with a dreffle tight twist in it;Thet the war is a war fer the spreadin' o' slavery;Thet our army desarves our best thanks fer their bravery;Thet we 're the original friends o' the nation,All the rest air a paltry an' base fabrication;Thet we highly respect Messrs. A, B, an' C,An' ez deeply despise Messrs. E, F, an' G.In this way they go to the eend o' the chapter,An' then they bust out in a kind of a rapturAbout their own vartoo, an' folks's stone-blindnessTo the men thet 'ould actilly do 'em a kindness,—The American eagle, the Pilgrims thet landed,Till on ole Plymouth Rock they git finally stranded.Wal, the people they listen and say, "Thet 's the ticket!Ez for Mexico, t'aint no glory to lick it,But 't would be a darned shame to go pullin' o' triggersTo extend the aree of abusin' the niggers."So they march in percessions, an' git up hooraws,An' tramp thru the mud fer the good o' the cause,An' think they 're kind o' fulfillin' the prophecies,Wen they 're on'y jest changin' the holders of offices;Ware A sot afore, B is comf'tably seated,One humbug 's victor'ous, an' t'other defeated.Each honnable doughface gits jest wut he axes,An' the people—their annooal soft sodder an' taxes.Now, to keep unimpaired all these glorious feetursThet characterize morril an' reasonin' creeturs,Thet give every paytriot all he can cram,Thet oust the untrustworthy Presidunt Flam,An' stick honest Presidunt Sham in his place,To the manifest gain o' the holl human race,An' to some indervidgewals on 't in partickler,Who love Public Opinion an' know how to tickle her,—I say thet a party with great aims like theseMust stick jest ez close ez a hive full o' bees.I 'm willin' a man should go tollable strongAgin wrong in the abstract, fer that kind o' wrongIs ollers unpop'lar an' never gits pitied,Because it 's a crime no one never committed;But he mus' n't be hard on partickler sins,Coz then he 'll be kickin' the people's own shins;On'y look at the Demmercrats, see wut they 've doneJest simply by stickin' together like fun;They 've sucked us right into a mis'able warThet no one on airth aint responsible for;They 've run us a hundred cool millions in debt,(An' fer Demmercrat Horners ther 's good plums left yet);They talk agin tayriffs, but act fer a high one,An' so coax all parties to build up their Zion;To the people they 're ollers ez slick ez molasses,An' butter their bread on both sides with The Masses,Half o' whom they 've persuaded, by way of a joke,Thet Washinton's mantelpiece fell upon Polk.Now all o' these blessins the Wigs might enjoy,Ef they 'd gumption enough the right means to imploy;[14]Fer the silver spoon born in Dermocracy's mouthIs a kind of a scringe thet they hev to the South;Their masters can cuss 'em an' kick 'em an' wale 'em,An' they notice it less 'an the ass did to Balaam;In this way they screw into second-rate officesWich the slaveholder thinks 'ould substract too much off his ease;The file-leaders, I mean, du, fer they, by their wiles,Unlike the old viper, grow fat on their files.Wal, the Wigs hev been tryin' to grab all this prey frum 'emAn' to hook this nice spoon o' good fortin' away frum 'em,An' they might ha' succeeded, ez likely ez not,In lickin' the Demmercrats all round the lot,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'Iaint agoin' to cheat my constitoounts,"—Wen every fool knows thet a man representsNot the fellers thet sent him, but them on the fence,—Impartially ready to jump either sideAn' 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 Committy.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 'tThat hev any consarn in 't, an' thet is the end on 't.Now here wuz New England ahevin' the honorOf 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 adoer"?Fer the matter o' thet, it 's notorous in townThet her own representatives du her quite brown.But thet 's nothin' to du with it; wut right hed PalfreyTo mix himself up with fanatical small fry?Warn't we gettin' on prime with our hot an' cold blowin',Acondemnin' the war wilst we kep' it agoin'?We 'd assumed with gret skill a commandin' position,On this side or thet, no one could n't tell wich one,So, wutever side wipped, we 'd a chance at the plunderAn' could sue for infringin' our paytended 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, 't was our business alone,Fer could n'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 from 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 heBelongs to the order called invertebraty,Wence some gret filologists judge primy fashyThet M. C. is M. T. by paronomashy;An' these few exceptions airloosus nayturyFolks '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 pillersOur four fathers fetched with 'em over the billers,Them pillers the people so soundly hev slept on,Wile to slav'ry, invasion, an' debt they were swept 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,[15]we thought wen we 'd gut him in,He 'd go kindly in wutever harness we put him in;Supposin' wedidknow thet he wuz a peace man?Does he think he can be Uncle Samwell's policeman,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, efIt leads to the fat promised land of a tayriff;Wedon'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 eerieAn' shakes both his heads wen he hears o' Monteery;Wile 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 hereFer the mere sake o' scorin' his ryalist rulerOn the tenderest part of our kingsin futuro—Hides his crown underneath an old shut in his bureauBreaks 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.[16]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 eagleWun't much longer be classed with the 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 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 put 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 cornerOur libbaty rests on, the mis'able scorner!In short, he would wholly upset with his ravagesAll thet keeps us above the brute critters an' savages,An' pitch into all kinds o' briles an' confusionsThe holl of our civilized, free institutions;He writes fer thet rather 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 withhim, my religion 's too fervent.—Good mornin', my friends, I 'm your most humble servant.

Who ever 'd ha' thought sech a pisonous rigWould be run by a chap thet wuz chose fer a Wig?"We knowed wut his principles wuz 'fore we sent him"?What wuz ther in them from this vote to pervent him?A marciful Providunce fashioned us hollerO' purpose thet we might our principles swaller;It can hold any quantity on 'em, the belly can,An' bring 'em up ready fer use like the pelican,Or more like the kangaroo, who (wich is stranger)Puts her family into her pouch wen there 's danger.Aint principle precious? then, who 's goin' to use itWen there 's risk o' some chaps gittin' up to abuse it?I can't tell the wy on 't, but nothin' issosureEz thet principle kind o' gits spiled by exposure;[13]A man thet lets all sorts o' folks git a sight on 'tOugh' to hev it all took right away, every mite on 't;Ef he can't keep it all to himself when it 's wise to,He aint one it 's fit to trust nothin' so nice to.

Besides, ther 's a wonderful power in latitudeTo shift a man's morril relations an' attitude;Some flossifers think thet a fakkilty 's grantedThe minnit it 's proved to be thoroughly wanted,Thet a change o' demand makes a change o' conditionAn' thet everythin' 's nothin' except by position;Ez, fer instance, thet rubber-trees fust begun bearin'Wen p'litickle conshunces come into wearin',—Thet the fears of a monkey, whose holt chanced to fail,Drawed the vertibry out to a prehensile tail;So, wen one 's chose to Congriss, ez soon ez he 's in it,A collar grows right round his neck in a minnit,An' sartin it is thet a man cannot be strictIn bein' himself, when he gets to the Deestrict,Fer a coat thet sets wal here in ole Massachusetts,Wen it gits on to Washinton, somehow askew sets.

Resolves, do you say, o' the Springfield Convention?Thet 's percisely the pint I was goin' to mention;Resolves air a thing we most gen'ally keep ill,They 're a cheap kind o' dust fer the eyes o' the people;A parcel o' delligits jest git togetherAn' chat fer a spell o' the crops an' the weather,Then, comin' to order, they squabble awileAn' let off the speeches they 're ferful 'll spile;Then—Resolve,—Thet we wunt hev an inch o' slave territory;That President Polk's holl perceedins air very tory;Thet the war 's a damned war, an' them thet enlist in itShould hev a cravat with a dreffle tight twist in it;Thet the war is a war fer the spreadin' o' slavery;Thet our army desarves our best thanks fer their bravery;Thet we 're the original friends o' the nation,All the rest air a paltry an' base fabrication;Thet we highly respect Messrs. A, B, an' C,An' ez deeply despise Messrs. E, F, an' G.In this way they go to the eend o' the chapter,An' then they bust out in a kind of a rapturAbout their own vartoo, an' folks's stone-blindnessTo the men thet 'ould actilly do 'em a kindness,—The American eagle, the Pilgrims thet landed,Till on ole Plymouth Rock they git finally stranded.Wal, the people they listen and say, "Thet 's the ticket!Ez for Mexico, t'aint no glory to lick it,But 't would be a darned shame to go pullin' o' triggersTo extend the aree of abusin' the niggers."

So they march in percessions, an' git up hooraws,An' tramp thru the mud fer the good o' the cause,An' think they 're kind o' fulfillin' the prophecies,Wen they 're on'y jest changin' the holders of offices;Ware A sot afore, B is comf'tably seated,One humbug 's victor'ous, an' t'other defeated.Each honnable doughface gits jest wut he axes,An' the people—their annooal soft sodder an' taxes.

Now, to keep unimpaired all these glorious feetursThet characterize morril an' reasonin' creeturs,Thet give every paytriot all he can cram,Thet oust the untrustworthy Presidunt Flam,An' stick honest Presidunt Sham in his place,To the manifest gain o' the holl human race,An' to some indervidgewals on 't in partickler,Who love Public Opinion an' know how to tickle her,—I say thet a party with great aims like theseMust stick jest ez close ez a hive full o' bees.

I 'm willin' a man should go tollable strongAgin wrong in the abstract, fer that kind o' wrongIs ollers unpop'lar an' never gits pitied,Because it 's a crime no one never committed;But he mus' n't be hard on partickler sins,Coz then he 'll be kickin' the people's own shins;On'y look at the Demmercrats, see wut they 've doneJest simply by stickin' together like fun;They 've sucked us right into a mis'able warThet no one on airth aint responsible for;They 've run us a hundred cool millions in debt,(An' fer Demmercrat Horners ther 's good plums left yet);They talk agin tayriffs, but act fer a high one,An' so coax all parties to build up their Zion;To the people they 're ollers ez slick ez molasses,An' butter their bread on both sides with The Masses,Half o' whom they 've persuaded, by way of a joke,Thet Washinton's mantelpiece fell upon Polk.

Now all o' these blessins the Wigs might enjoy,Ef they 'd gumption enough the right means to imploy;[14]Fer the silver spoon born in Dermocracy's mouthIs a kind of a scringe thet they hev to the South;Their masters can cuss 'em an' kick 'em an' wale 'em,An' they notice it less 'an the ass did to Balaam;In this way they screw into second-rate officesWich the slaveholder thinks 'ould substract too much off his ease;The file-leaders, I mean, du, fer they, by their wiles,Unlike the old viper, grow fat on their files.Wal, the Wigs hev been tryin' to grab all this prey frum 'emAn' to hook this nice spoon o' good fortin' away frum 'em,An' they might ha' succeeded, ez likely ez not,In lickin' the Demmercrats all round the lot,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'Iaint agoin' to cheat my constitoounts,"—Wen every fool knows thet a man representsNot the fellers thet sent him, but them on the fence,—Impartially ready to jump either sideAn' 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 Committy.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 'tThat hev any consarn in 't, an' thet is the end on 't.

Now here wuz New England ahevin' the honorOf 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 adoer"?Fer the matter o' thet, it 's notorous in townThet her own representatives du her quite brown.But thet 's nothin' to du with it; wut right hed PalfreyTo mix himself up with fanatical small fry?Warn't we gettin' on prime with our hot an' cold blowin',Acondemnin' the war wilst we kep' it agoin'?We 'd assumed with gret skill a commandin' position,On this side or thet, no one could n't tell wich one,So, wutever side wipped, we 'd a chance at the plunderAn' could sue for infringin' our paytended 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, 't was our business alone,Fer could n'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 from 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 heBelongs to the order called invertebraty,Wence some gret filologists judge primy fashyThet M. C. is M. T. by paronomashy;An' these few exceptions airloosus nayturyFolks '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 pillersOur four fathers fetched with 'em over the billers,Them pillers the people so soundly hev slept on,Wile to slav'ry, invasion, an' debt they were swept 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,[15]we thought wen we 'd gut him in,He 'd go kindly in wutever harness we put him in;Supposin' wedidknow thet he wuz a peace man?Does he think he can be Uncle Samwell's policeman,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, efIt leads to the fat promised land of a tayriff;Wedon'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 eerieAn' shakes both his heads wen he hears o' Monteery;Wile 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 hereFer the mere sake o' scorin' his ryalist rulerOn the tenderest part of our kingsin futuro—Hides his crown underneath an old shut in his bureauBreaks 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.[16]

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 eagleWun't much longer be classed with the 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 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 put 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 cornerOur libbaty rests on, the mis'able scorner!In short, he would wholly upset with his ravagesAll thet keeps us above the brute critters an' savages,An' pitch into all kinds o' briles an' confusionsThe holl of our civilized, free institutions;He writes fer thet rather 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 withhim, 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 intelligible, by the last unintelligible, to our fellows. It has not seldom occurredto me (noting how in our national legislature everything runs to talk, as lettuces, if the season or the soil be unpropitious, shoot up lankly to seed, instead of forming handsome heads) that Babel was the first Congress, the earliest mill erected for the manufacture of gabble. In these days, what with Town Meetings, School Committees, Boards (lumber) 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 (milk-and-) water power. I cannot conceive the confusion of tongues to have been the curse of Babel, since I esteem my ignorance of other languages as a kind of Martello-tower, in which I am safe from the furious bombardments of foreign garrulity. For this reason I have ever preferred the study of the dead languages, those primitive 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 garments with hooks and eyes?This reflection concerning Babel, which I find in no Commentary, 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 otherwise well-meaning propagandist should be broken down.In reading Congressional debates, I have fancied, that, afterthe 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 thatnothingtakes longer in the saying than anything else, for, asex nihilo nihil fit, so from one polypusnothingany number of similar ones may be produced. I would recommend to the attention ofvivâ vocedebaters 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 fire, and thereby silenced a Manichæan antagonist who had less of the salamander in him. As for those who 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 many modern books that the printed portion is becoming gradually smaller, and the number of blank or fly-leaves (as they are called) greater. Should 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.I have wondered, in the Representatives' Chamber of our own Commonwealth, to 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 epithetcold-blooded, by which naturalists distinguish it, as certain bipeds, afflicted with ditch-water on the brain, who take occasion to tap themselves in Fanueil Halls, meeting-houses, and other places of public resort.—H. W.]

This reflection concerning Babel, which I find in no Commentary, 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 otherwise well-meaning propagandist should be broken down.

In reading Congressional debates, I have fancied, that, afterthe 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 thatnothingtakes longer in the saying than anything else, for, asex nihilo nihil fit, so from one polypusnothingany number of similar ones may be produced. I would recommend to the attention ofvivâ vocedebaters 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 fire, and thereby silenced a Manichæan antagonist who had less of the salamander in him. As for those who 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 many modern books that the printed portion is becoming gradually smaller, and the number of blank or fly-leaves (as they are called) greater. Should 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.

I have wondered, in the Representatives' Chamber of our own Commonwealth, to 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 epithetcold-blooded, by which naturalists distinguish it, as certain bipeds, afflicted with ditch-water on the brain, who take occasion to tap themselves in Fanueil Halls, meeting-houses, and other places of public resort.—H. W.]

FOOTNOTES:[13]The speaker is of a different mind from Tully, who, in his recently discovered tractateDe Republicâ, tells us,—Nec vero habere virtutem satis est, quasi artem aliquam, nisi utare, and from our Milton, who says,—"I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks out of the race where that immortal garland is to be run for,not without dust and heat."—Areop.He had taken the words out of the Roman's mouth, without knowing it, and might well exclaim with Austin (if saint's name may stand sponsor for a curse).Pereant qui ante nos nostra dixerint!—H. W.[14]That was a pithy saying of Persius, and fits our politicians without a wrinkle,—Magister artis, ingeniique largitor venter.—H. W.[15]There is truth yet in this of Juvenal,—"Dat veniam corvis, vexat censura columbas."[16]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 Ammon, 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 overhasty meanwhile in our censure of the French people, left for the first time to govern themselves, remembering that wise sentence of Æschylus,—Ἅπας δὲ τραχὺς ὅστις ἂν νέον κρατῇ.H. W.

[13]The speaker is of a different mind from Tully, who, in his recently discovered tractateDe Republicâ, tells us,—Nec vero habere virtutem satis est, quasi artem aliquam, nisi utare, and from our Milton, who says,—"I cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees her adversary, but slinks out of the race where that immortal garland is to be run for,not without dust and heat."—Areop.He had taken the words out of the Roman's mouth, without knowing it, and might well exclaim with Austin (if saint's name may stand sponsor for a curse).Pereant qui ante nos nostra dixerint!—H. W.

[14]That was a pithy saying of Persius, and fits our politicians without a wrinkle,—Magister artis, ingeniique largitor venter.—H. W.

[15]There is truth yet in this of Juvenal,—"Dat veniam corvis, vexat censura columbas."

[15]There is truth yet in this of Juvenal,—

"Dat veniam corvis, vexat censura columbas."

[16]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 Ammon, 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 overhasty meanwhile in our censure of the French people, left for the first time to govern themselves, remembering that wise sentence of Æschylus,—Ἅπας δὲ τραχὺς ὅστις ἂν νέον κρατῇ.H. W.

"Rapida fortuna ac levis,Præcepsque regno eripuit, exsilio dedit."

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

Ἅπας δὲ τραχὺς ὅστις ἂν νέον κρατῇ.

H. W.

SOT TO A NUSRY RHYME.

[The incident which gave rise to the debate satirized in the following verses was the unsuccessful 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 leaders 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 Attorney so benighted as ours at the seat of government. Very fitly is he named Key, who would allow himself to be made the instrument 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, seems 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 sets up his scarecrow of dissolving the Union. This may do for the North, but I should conjecture that something more than a pumpkin-lantern is required to scare manifest and irretrievable Destiny out of her path. Mr. Calhoun cannot let go the apron-string of the Past. The Past is a good nurse, but we must be weaned fromher sooner or later, even though, like Plotinus, we should run home from school to ask the breast, after we are tolerably well-grown youths. It will not do for us to hide 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 threaten the dire revenge of going to bed without our supper. The world shall stop till we get our dangerous plaything again. Dame Earth, meanwhile, who has more 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 Time, 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 seemed 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 times, doubtless, the giantswerestupid, and there was no better sport for the Sir Launcelots and Sir Gawains than to go about cutting off their great blunderingheads with enchanted swords. But things have wonderfully changed. It is the giants, now-a-days, that have the science and the intelligence, while the chivalrous Don Quixotes of Conservatism still cumber themselves with the clumsy armour of a by-gone age. On whirls the restless globe through unsounded time, with its cities and its silences, its births and funerals, half light, half shade, but never wholly dark, and sure to swing round into the happy 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.]

Mr. Calhoun, who is made the chief speaker in this burlesque, seems 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 sets up his scarecrow of dissolving the Union. This may do for the North, but I should conjecture that something more than a pumpkin-lantern is required to scare manifest and irretrievable Destiny out of her path. Mr. Calhoun cannot let go the apron-string of the Past. The Past is a good nurse, but we must be weaned fromher sooner or later, even though, like Plotinus, we should run home from school to ask the breast, after we are tolerably well-grown youths. It will not do for us to hide 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 threaten the dire revenge of going to bed without our supper. The world shall stop till we get our dangerous plaything again. Dame Earth, meanwhile, who has more 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 Time, 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 seemed 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 times, doubtless, the giantswerestupid, and there was no better sport for the Sir Launcelots and Sir Gawains than to go about cutting off their great blunderingheads with enchanted swords. But things have wonderfully changed. It is the giants, now-a-days, that have the science and the intelligence, while the chivalrous Don Quixotes of Conservatism still cumber themselves with the clumsy armour of a by-gone age. On whirls the restless globe through unsounded time, with its cities and its silences, its births and funerals, half light, half shade, but never wholly dark, and sure to swing round into the happy 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.]

TO MR. BUCKENAM.

mr. Editer, As i wuz kinder prunin round, in a little nussry sot out a year or 2 a go, the Dbait in the sennit cum inter my mine An so i took & Sot it to wut I call a nussry rime. I hev made sum onnable Gentlemun speak that dident speak in a Kind uv Poetikul lie sense the seeson is dreffle backerd up This way

ewers as ushulHOSEA BIGLOW.

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