Chapter XIX: Introduction (6)

They're 'most too fur away, take too much time To visit of'en, ef it ain't in rhyme; But the' 's a walk thet's hendier, a sight, An' suits me fust-rate of a winter's night,-- I mean the round whale's-back o' Prospect Hill. I love to l'iter there while night grows still, An' in the twinklin' villages about, Fust here, then there, the well-saved lights goes out, 30 An' nary sound but watch-dogs' false alarms, Or muffled cock-crows from the drowsy farms, Where some wise rooster (men act jest thet way) Stands to 't thet moon-rise is the break o' day; (So Mister Seward sticks a three-months' pin Where the war'd oughto eend, then tries agin: My gran'ther's rule was safer 'n 'tis to crow: _Don't never prophesy--onless ye know_.) I love to muse there till it kind o' seems Ez ef the world went eddyin' off in dreams; 40 The northwest wind thet twitches at my baird Blows out o' sturdier days not easy scared, An' the same moon thet this December shines Starts out the tents an' booths o' Putnam's lines; The rail-fence posts, acrost the hill thet runs, Turn ghosts o' sogers should'rin' ghosts o' guns; Ez wheels the sentry, glints a flash o' light, Along the firelock won at Concord Fight, An', 'twixt the silences, now fur, now nigh, Rings the sharp chellenge, hums the low reply. 50

Ez I was settin' so, it warn't long sence, Mixin' the puffict with the present tense, I heerd two voices som'ers in the air, Though, ef I was to die, I can't tell where: Voices I call 'em: 'twas a kind o' sough Like pine-trees thet the wind's ageth'rin' through; An', fact, I thought it _was_ the wind a spell, Then some misdoubted, couldn't fairly tell, Fust sure, then not, jest as you hold an eel, I knowed, an' didn't,--fin'lly seemed to feel 60 'Twas Concord Bridge a talkin' off to kill With the Stone Spike thet's druv thru Bunker's Hill; Whether 'twas so, or ef I on'y dreamed, I couldn't say; I tell it ez it seemed.

THE BRIDGE

Wal, neighbor, tell us wut's turned up thet's new? You're younger 'n I be,--nigher Boston, tu: An' down to Boston, ef you take their showin', Wut they don't know ain't hardly wuth the knowin'. There's _sunthin'_ goin' on, I know: las' night The British sogers killed in our gret fight 70 (Nigh fifty year they hedn't stirred nor spoke) Made sech a coil you'd thought a dam hed broke: Why, one he up an' beat a revellee With his own crossbones on a holler tree, Till all the graveyards swarmed out like a hive With faces I hain't seen sence Seventy-five. Wut _is_ the news? 'T ain't good, or they'd be cheerin'. Speak slow an' clear, for I'm some hard o' hearin'.

THE MONIMENT

I don't know hardly ef it's good or bad,--

THE BRIDGE

At wust, it can't be wus than wut we've had. 80

THE MONIMENT

You know them envys thet the Rebbles sent, An' Cap'n Wilkes he borried o' the Trent?

THE BRIDGE

Wut! they ha'n't hanged 'em? Then their wits is gone! Thet's the sure way to make a goose a swan!

THE MONIMENT

No: England she _would_ hev 'em, _Fee, Faw, Fum!_ (Ez though she hedn't fools enough to home,) So they've returned 'em--

THE BRIDGE

_Hev_ they? Wal, by heaven, Thet's the wust news I've heerd sence Seventy-seven! _By George_, I meant to say, though I declare It's 'most enough to make a deacon swear. 90

THE MONIMENT

Now don't go off half-cock: folks never gains By usin' pepper-sarse instid o' brains. Come, neighbor, you don't understan'--

THE BRIDGE

How? Hey? Not understan'? Why, wut's to hender, pray? Must I go huntin' round to find a chap To tell me when my face hez hed a slap?

THE MONIMENT

See here: the British they found out a flaw In Cap'n Wilkes's readin' o' the law: (They _make_ all laws, you know, an' so, o' course, It's nateral they should understan' their force:) 100 He'd oughto ha' took the vessel into port, An' hed her sot on by a reg'lar court; She was a mail-ship, an' a steamer, tu, An' thet, they say, hez changed the pint o' view, Coz the old practice, bein' meant for sails, Ef tried upon a steamer, kind o' fails; You _may_ take out despatches, but you mus'n't Take nary man--

THE BRIDGE

You mean to say, you dus'n't! Changed pint o'view! No, no,--it's overboard With law an' gospel, when their ox is gored! 110 I tell ye, England's law, on sea an' land, Hez ollers ben, '_I've gut the heaviest hand_.' Take nary man? Fine preachin' from _her_ lips! Why, she hez taken hunderds from our ships, An' would agin, an' swear she had a right to, Ef we warn't strong enough to be perlite to. Of all the sarse thet I can call to mind, England _doos_ make the most onpleasant kind: It's you're the sinner ollers, she's the saint; Wut's good's all English, all thet isn't ain't; 120 Wut profits her is ollers right an' just, An' ef you don't read Scriptur so, you must; She's praised herself ontil she fairly thinks There ain't no light in Natur when she winks; Hain't she the Ten Comman'ments in her pus? Could the world stir 'thout she went, tu, ez nus? She ain't like other mortals, thet's a fact: _She_ never stopped the habus-corpus act, Nor specie payments, nor she never yet Cut down the int'rest on her public debt; 130 _She_ don't put down rebellions, lets 'em breed, An' 's ollers willin' Ireland should secede; She's all thet's honest, honnable, an' fair, An' when the vartoos died they made her heir.

THE MONIMENT

Wal, wal, two wrongs don't never make a right; Ef we're mistaken, own up, an' don't fight: For gracious' sake, ha'n't we enough to du 'thout gettin' up a fight with England, tu? She thinks we're rabble-rid--

THE BRIDGE

An' so we can't Distinguish 'twixt _You oughtn't_ an' _You shan't!_ 140 She jedges by herself; she's no idear How 't stiddies folks to give 'em their fair sheer: The odds 'twixt her an' us is plain's a steeple,-- Her People's turned to Mob, our Mob's turned People.

THE MONIMENT

She's riled jes' now--

THE BRIDGE

Plain proof her cause ain't strong,-- The one thet fust gits mad's 'most ollers wrong. Why, sence she helped in lickin' Nap the Fust, An' pricked a bubble jest agoin' to bust, With Rooshy, Prooshy, Austry, all assistin', Th' ain't nut a face but wut she's shook her fist in, 150 Ez though she done it all, an' ten times more, An' nothin' never hed gut done afore, Nor never could agin, 'thout she wuz spliced On to one eend an' gin th' old airth a hoist. She _is_ some punkins, thet I wun't deny, (For ain't she some related to you 'n' I?) But there's a few small intrists here below Outside the counter o' John Bull an' Co, An' though they can't conceit how 't should be so, I guess the Lord druv down Creation's spiles 160 'thout no _gret_ helpin' from the British Isles, An' could contrive to keep things pooty stiff Ef they withdrawed from business in a miff; I ha'n't no patience with sech swellin' fellers ez Think God can't forge 'thout them to blow the bellerses.

THE MONIMENT

You're ollers quick to set your back aridge, Though 't suits a tom-cat more 'n a sober bridge: Don't you get het: they thought the thing was planned; They'll cool off when they come to understand.

THE BRIDGE

Ef _thet_'s wut you expect, you'll _hev_ to wait; 170 Folks never understand the folks they hate: She'll fin' some other grievance jest ez good, 'fore the month's out, to git misunderstood. England cool off! She'll do it, ef she sees She's run her head into a swarm o' bees. I ain't so prejudiced ez wut you spose: I hev thought England was the best thet goes; Remember (no, you can't), when _I_ was reared, _God save the King_ was all the tune you heerd: But it's enough to turn Wachuset roun' 180 This stumpin' fellers when you think they're down.

THE MONIMENT

But, neighbor, ef they prove their claim at law, The best way is to settle, an' not jaw. An' don't le' 's mutter 'bout the awfle bricks We'll give 'em, ef we ketch 'em in a fix: That 'ere's most frequently the kin' o' talk Of critters can't be kicked to toe the chalk; Your 'You'll see _nex'_ time!' an' 'Look out bumby!' 'Most ollers ends in eatin' umble-pie. 'Twun't pay to scringe to England: will it pay 190 To fear thet meaner bully, old 'They'll say'? Suppose they _du_ say; words are dreffle bores, But they ain't quite so bad ez seventy-fours. Wut England wants is jest a wedge to fit Where it'll help to widen out our split: She's found her wedge, an' 'tain't for us to come An' lend the beetle thet's to drive it home. For growed-up folks like us 'twould be a scandle, When we git sarsed, to fly right off the handle. England ain't _all_ bad, coz she thinks us blind: 200 Ef she can't change her skin, she can her mind; An' we shall see her change it double-quick. Soon ez we've proved thet we're a-goin' to lick. She an' Columby's gut to be fas' friends: For the world prospers by their privit ends: 'Twould put the clock back all o' fifty years Ef they should fall together by the ears.

THE BRIDGE

I 'gree to thet; she's nigh us to wut France is; But then she'll hev to make the fust advances; We've gut pride, tu, an' gut it by good rights, 210 An' ketch _me_ stoopin' to pick up the mites O' condescension she'll be lettin' fall When she finds out we ain't dead arter all! I tell ye wut, it takes more'n one good week Afore _my_ nose forgits it's hed a tweak.

THE MONIMENT

She'll come out right bumby, thet I'll engage, Soon ez she gits to seein' we're of age; This talkin' down o' hers ain't wuth a fuss; It's nat'ral ez nut likin' 'tis to us; 220 Ef we're agoin' to prove we _be_ growed-up. 'Twun't be by barkin' like a tarrier pup, But turnin' to an' makin' things ez good Ez wut we're ollers braggin' that we could; We're boun' to be good friends, an' so we'd oughto, In spite of all the fools both sides the water.

THE BRIDGE

I b'lieve thet's so; but hearken in your ear,-- I'm older'n you,--Peace wun't keep house with Fear; Ef you want peace, the thing you've gut tu du Is jes' to show you're up to fightin', tu. _I_ recollect how sailors' rights was won, 230 Yard locked in yard, hot gun-lip kissin' gun; Why, afore thet, John Bull sot up thet he Hed gut a kind o' mortgage on the sea; You'd thought he held by Gran'ther Adam's will, An' ef you knuckle down, _he_'ll think so still. Better thet all our ships an' all their crews Should sink to rot in ocean's dreamless ooze, Each torn flag wavin' chellenge ez it went, An' each dumb gun a brave man's moniment, Than seek sech peace ez only cowards crave: 240 Give _me_ the peace of dead men or of brave!

THE MONIMENT

I say, ole boy, it ain't the Glorious Fourth: You'd oughto larned 'fore this wut talk wuz worth. It ain't _our_ nose thet gits put out o' jint; It's England thet gives up her dearest pint. We've gut, I tell ye now, enough to du In our own fem'ly fight, afore we're thru. I hoped, las' spring, jest arter Sumter's shame, When every flag-staff flapped its tethered flame, An' all the people, startled from their doubt, 250 Come must'rin' to the flag with sech a shout,-- I hoped to see things settled 'fore this fall, The Rebbles licked, Jeff Davis hanged, an' all; Then come Bull Run, an' _sence_ then I've ben waitin' Like boys in Jennooary thaw for skatin', Nothin' to du but watch my shadder's trace Swing, like a ship at anchor, roun' my base, With daylight's flood an' ebb: it's gittin' slow, An' I 'most think we'd better let 'em go. I tell ye wut, this war's a-goin' to cost-- 260

THE BRIDGE

An' I tell _you_ it wun't be money lost; Taxes milks dry, but, neighbor, you'll allow Thet havin' things onsettled kills the cow: We've gut to fix this thing for good an' all; It's no use buildin' wut's a-goin' to fall. I'm older'n you, an' I've seen things an' men, An' _my_ experunce,--tell ye wut it's ben: Folks thet worked thorough was the ones thet thriv, But bad work follers ye ez long's ye live; You can't git red on 't; jest ez sure ez sin, 270 It's ollers askin' to be done agin: Ef we should part, it wouldn't be a week 'Fore your soft-soddered peace would spring aleak. We've turned our cuffs up, but, to put her thru, We must git mad an' off with jackets, tu; 'Twun't du to think thet killin' ain't perlite,-- You've gut to be to airnest, ef you fight; Why, two thirds o' the Rebbles 'ould cut dirt, Ef they once thought thet Guv'ment meant to hurt; An' I _du_ wish our Gin'rals hed in mind 280 The folks in front more than the folks behind; You wun't do much ontil you think it's God, An' not constitoounts, thet holds the rod; We want some more o' Gideon's sword, I jedge, For proclamations ha'n't no gret of edge; There's nothin' for a cancer but the knife, Onless you set by 't more than by your life. _I_'ve seen hard times; I see a war begun Thet folks thet love their bellies never'd won; Pharo's lean kine hung on for seven long year; 290 But when 'twas done, we didn't count it dear; Why, law an' order, honor, civil right, Ef they _ain't_ wuth it, wut _is_ wuth a fight? I'm older'n you: the plough, the axe, the mill, All kin's o' labor an' all kin's o' skill, Would be a rabbit in a wile-cat's claw, Ef 'twarn't for thet slow critter, 'stablished law; Onsettle _thet_, an' all the world goes whiz, A screw's gut loose in eyerythin' there is: Good buttresses once settled, don't you fret 300 An' stir 'em; take a bridge's word for thet! Young folks are smart, but all ain't good thet's new; I guess the gran'thers they knowed sunthin', tu.

THE MONIMENT

Amen to thet! build sure in the beginnin': An' then don't never tech the underpinnin': Th' older a guv'ment is, the better 't suits; New ones hunt folks's corns out like new boots: Change jes' for change, is like them big hotels Where they shift plates, an' let ye live on smells.

THE BRIDGE

Wal, don't give up afore the ship goes down: 310 It's a stiff gale, but Providence wun't drown; An' God wun't leave us yit to sink or swim, Ef we don't fail to du wut's right by Him, This land o' ourn, I tell ye, 's gut to be A better country than man ever see. I feel my sperit swellin' with a cry Thet seems to say, 'Break forth an' prophesy!' O strange New World, thet yit wast never young, Whose youth from thee by gripin' need was wrung, Brown foundlin' o' the woods, whose baby-bed 320 Was prowled roun' by the Injun's cracklin' tread, An' who grew'st strong thru shifts an' wants an' pains, Nussed by stern men with empires in their brains, Who saw in vision their young Ishmel strain With each hard hand a vassal ocean's mane, Thou, skilled by Freedom an' by gret events To pitch new States ez Old-World men pitch tents, Thou, taught by Fate to know Jehovah's plan Thet man's devices can't unmake a man, An' whose free latch-string never was drawed in 330 Against the poorest child of Adam's kin,-- The grave's not dug where traitor hands shall lay In fearful haste thy murdered corse away! I see--

Jest here some dogs begun to bark, So thet I lost old Concord's last remark: I listened long, but all I seemed to hear Was dead leaves gossipin' on some birch-trees near; But ez they hedn't no gret things to say, An' sed 'em often, I come right away, An', walkin' home'ards, jest to pass the time, 340 I put some thoughts thet bothered me in rhyme; I hain't hed time to fairly try 'em on, But here they be--it's

JONATHAN TO JOHN

It don't seem hardly right, John,
When both my hands was full,
To stump me to a fight, John,--
Your cousin, tu, John Bull!
Ole Uncle S. sez he, 'I guess
We know it now,' sez he,
'The lion's paw is all the law,
Accordin' to J.B.,
Thet's fit for you an' me!' 9

You wonder why we're hot, John?
Your mark wuz on the guns,
The neutral guns, thet shot, John,
Our brothers an' our sons:
Ole Uncle S. sez he, 'I guess
There's human blood,' sez he,
'By fits an' starts, in Yankee hearts,
Though't may surprise J.B.
More 'n it would you an' me.'

Ef _I_ turned mad dogs loose, John,
On _your_ front-parlor stairs, 20
Would it jest meet your views, John,
To wait an' sue their heirs?
Ole Uncle S. sez he, 'I guess,
I on'y guess,' sez he,
'Thet ef Vattel on _his_ toes fell,
'Twould kind o' rile J.B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me!'

Who made the law thet hurts, John,
_Heads I win,--ditto tails?_
'J.B.' was on his shirts, John, 30
Onless my memory fails.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, 'I guess
(I'm good at thet),' sez he,
'Thet sauce for goose ain't _jest_ the juice
For ganders with J.B.,
No more 'n with you or me!'

When your rights was our wrongs, John,
You didn't stop for fuss,--
Britanny's trident prongs, John,
Was good 'nough law for us. 40
Ole Uncle S. sez he, 'I guess,
Though physic's good,' sez he,
'It doesn't foller thet he can swaller
Prescriptions signed "J.B.,"
Put up by you an' me!'

We own the ocean, tu, John:
You mus'n' take it hard,
Ef we can't think with you, John,
It's jest your own back-yard. 49
Ole Uncle S. sez he, 'I guess,
Ef _thet's_ his claim,' sez he,
'The fencin' stuff'll cost enough
To bust up friend J.B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me!'

Why talk so dreffle big, John,
Of honor when it meant
You didn't care a fig, John,
But jest for _ten per cent?_
Ole Uncle S. sez he, 'I guess
He's like the rest,' sez he: 60
'When all is done, it's number one
Thet's nearest to J.B.,
Ez wal ez t' you an' me!'

We give the critters back, John,
Cos Abram thought 'twas right;
It warn't your bullyin' clack, John,
Provokin' us to fight.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, 'I guess
We've a hard row,' sez he,
'To hoe jest now; but thet, somehow, 70
May happen to J.B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me!'

We ain't so weak an' poor, John,
With twenty million people.
An' close to every door, John,
A school-house an' a steeple.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, 'I guess,
It is a fact,' sez he,
'The surest plan to make a Man
Is, think him so, J.B., 80
Ez much ez you or me!'

Our folks believe in Law, John;
An' it's for her sake, now,
They've left the axe an' saw, John,
The anvil an' the plough.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, 'I guess,
Ef 'twarn'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' me!) 90

We know we've got a cause, John,
Thet's honest, just, an' true;
We thought 'twould win applause, John,
Ef nowheres else, from you.
Ole Uncle S. sez he, 'I guess
His love of right,' sez he,
'Hangs by a rotten fibre o' cotton:
There's natur' in J.B.,
Ez wal 'z in you an' me!'

The South says, '_Poor folks down!_' John, 100
An' '_All men up!_' say we,--
White, yaller, black, an' brown, John:
Now which is your idee?
Ole Uncle S. sez he, 'I 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; 110
Ain't _your_ bonds held by Fate, John,
Like all the world's beside?
Ole Uncle S. sez he, 'I guess
Wise men forgive,' sez he,
'But not forgit; an' some time yit
Thet truth may strike J.B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me!'

God means to make this land, John,
Clear thru, from sea to sea,
Believe an' understand, John, 120
The _wuth_ o' bein' free.
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 myself,--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 coelo descendit_, says the pagan poet),--I have no great smack of that weakness which would press upon the publick 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 topick of interest to all those engaged in the publick 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 (_altâ mente repostum_), as it were, in the pickle of a mind soured by prejudice, a lasting _scunner_, 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 which they call _ar c'houskezik_, whose office it is to make the congregation drowsy; and though I have never had reason to think that he was specially busy among my flock, yet have I seen enough to make me sometimes regret the hinged seats of the ancient meeting-house, whose lively clatter, not unwillingly intensified by boys beyond eyeshot of the tithing-man, served at intervals as a wholesome _réveil_. It is true, I have numbered among my parishioners some who are proof against the prophylactick fennel, nay, whose gift of somnolence rivalled that of the Cretan Rip Van Winkle, Epimenides, and who, nevertheless, complained not so much of the substance as of the length of my (by them unheard) discourses. Some ingenious persons of a philosophick turn have assured us that our pulpits were set too high, and that the soporifick tendency increased with the ratio of the angle in which the hearer's eye was constrained to seek the preacher. This were a curious topick for investigation. There can be no doubt that some sermons are pitched too high, and I remember many struggles with the drowsy fiend in my youth. Happy Saint Anthony of Padua, whose finny acolytes, however they might profit, could never murmur! _Quare fremuerunt gentes?_ Who is he that can twice a week be inspired, or has eloquence (_ut ita dicam_) always on tap? A good man, and, next to David, a sacred poet (himself, haply, not inexpert of evil in this particular), has said,--

'The worst speak something good: if all want sense, God takes a text and preacheth patience.'

There are one or two other points in Mr. Sawin's letter which I would also briefly animadvert upon. And first, concerning the claim he sets up to a certain superiority of blood and lineage in the people of our Southern States, now unhappily in rebellion against lawful authority and their own better interests. There is a sort of opinions, anachronisms at once and anachorisms, foreign both to the age and the country, that maintain a feeble and buzzing existence, scarce to be called life, like winter flies, which in mild weather crawl out from obscure nooks and crannies to expatiate in the sun, and sometimes acquire vigor enough to disturb with their enforced familiarity the studious hours of the scholar. One of the most stupid and pertinacious of these is the theory that the Southern States were settled by a class of emigrants from the Old World socially superior to those who founded the institutions of New England. The Virginians especially lay claim to this generosity of lineage, which were of no possible account, were it not for the fact that such superstitions are sometimes not without their effect on the course of human affairs. The early adventurers to Massachusetts at least paid their passages; no felons were ever shipped thither; and though it be true that many deboshed younger brothers of what are called good families may have sought refuge in Virginia, it is equally certain that a great part of the early deportations thither were the sweepings of the London streets and the leavings of the London stews. It was this my Lord Bacon had in mind when he wrote: 'It is a shameful and unblessed thing to take the scum of people and wicked condemned men to be the people with whom you plant.' That certain names are found there is nothing to the purpose, for, even had an _alias_ been beyond the invention of the knaves of that generation, it is known that servants were often called by their masters' names, as slaves are now. On what the heralds call the spindle side, some, at least, of the oldest Virginian families are descended from matrons who were exported and sold for so many hogsheads of tobacco the head. So notorious was this, that it became one of the jokes of contemporary playwrights, not only that men bankrupt in purse and character were 'food for the Plantations' (and this before the settlement of New England), but also that any drab would suffice to wive such pitiful adventurers. 'Never choose a wife as if you were going to Virginia,' says Middleton in one of his comedies. The mule is apt to forget all but the equine side of his pedigree. How early the counterfeit nobility of the Old Dominion became a topick of ridicule in the Mother Country may be learned from a play of Mrs. Behn's, founded on the Rebellion of Bacon: for even these kennels of literature may yield a fact or two to pay the raking. Mrs. Flirt, the keeper of a Virginia ordinary, calls herself the daughter of a baronet, 'undone in the late rebellion,'--her father having in truth been a tailor,--and three of the Council, assuming to themselves an equal splendor of origin, are shown to have been, one 'a broken exciseman who came over a poor servant,' another a tinker transported for theft, and the third 'a common pickpocket often flogged at the cart's tail.' The ancestry of South Carolina will as little pass muster at the Herald's Visitation, though I hold them to have been more reputable, inasmuch as many of them were honest tradesmen and artisans, in some measure exiles for conscience' sake, who would have smiled at the high-flying nonsense of their descendants. Some of the more respectable were Jews. The absurdity of supposing a population of eight millions all sprung from gentle loins in the course of a century and a half is too manifest for confutation. But of what use to discuss the matter? An expert genealogist will provide any solvent man with a _genus et pro avos_ to order. My Lord Burleigh used to say, with Aristotle and the Emperor Frederick II. to back him, that 'nobility was ancient riches,' whence also the Spanish were wont to call their nobles _ricos hombres_, and the aristocracy of America are the descendants of those who first became wealthy, by whatever means. Petroleum will in this wise be the source of much good blood among our posterity. The aristocracy of the South, such as it is, has the shallowest of all foundations, for it is only skin-deep,--the most odious of all, for, while affecting to despise trade, it traces its origin to a successful traffick in men, women, and children, and still draws its chief revenues thence. And though, as Doctor Chamberlayne consolingly says in his 'Present State of England,' 'to become a Merchant of Foreign Commerce, without serving any Apprentisage, hath been allowed no disparagement to a Gentleman born, especially to a younger Brother,' yet I conceive that he would hardly have made a like exception in favour of the particular trade in question. Oddly enough this trade reverses the ordinary standards of social respectability no less than of morals, for the retail and domestick is as creditable as the wholesale and foreign is degrading to him who follows it. Are our morals, then, no better than _mores_ after all? I do not believe that such aristocracy as exists at the South (for I hold with Marius, _fortissimum quemque generosissimum_) will be found an element of anything like persistent strength in war,--thinking the saying of Lord Bacon (whom one quaintly called _inductionis dominus et Verulamii_) as true as it is pithy, that 'the more gentlemen, ever the lower books of subsidies.' It is odd enough as an historical precedent, that, while the fathers of New England were laying deep in religion, education, and freedom the basis of a polity which has substantially outlasted any then existing, the first work of the founders of Virginia, as may be seen in Wingfield's 'Memorial,' was conspiracy and rebellion,--odder yet, as showing the changes which are wrought by circumstance, that the first insurrection, in South Carolina was against the aristocratical scheme of the Proprietary Government. I do not find that the cuticular aristocracy of the South has added anything to the refinements of civilization except the carrying of bowie-knives and the chewing of tobacco,--a high-toned Southern gentleman being commonly not only _quadrumanous_ but _quidruminant_.

I confess that the present letter of Mr. Sawin increases my doubts as to the sincerity of the convictions which he professes, and I am inclined to think that the triumph, of the legitimate Government, sure sooner or later to take place, will find him and a large majority of his newly adopted fellow-citizens (who hold with Dædalus, the primal sitter-on-the-fence, that _medium tenere tutissimum_) original Union men. The criticisms towards the close of his letter on certain of our failings are worthy to be seriously perpended; for he is not, as I think, without a spice of vulgar shrewdness. _Fas est et ab hoste doceri_: there is no reckoning without your host. As to the good-nature in us which he seems to gird at, while I would not consecrate a chapel, as they have not scrupled to do in France, to _Notre Dame de la Haine_ (Our Lady of Hate), yet I cannot forget that the corruption of good-nature is the generation of laxity of principle. Good-nature is our national characteristick; and though it be, perhaps, nothing more than a culpable weakness or cowardice, when it leads us to put up tamely with manifold impositions and breaches of implied contracts (as too frequently in our publick conveyances) it becomes a positive crime when it leads us to look unresentfully on peculation, and to regard treason to the best Government that ever existed as something with which a gentleman may shake hands without soiling his fingers. I do not think the gallows-tree the most profitable member of our _Sylva;_ but, since it continues to be planted, I would fain see a Northern limb ingrafted on it, that it may bear some other fruit than loyal Tennesseeans.

A relick has recently been discovered on the east bank of Bushy Brook in North Jaalam, which I conceive to be an inscription in Runick characters relating to the early expedition of the Northmen to this continent. I shall make fuller investigations, and communicate the result in due season.

Respectfully,

Your obedient servant,

HOMER WILBUR, A.M.

P.S.--I inclose a year's subscription from Deacon Tinkham.

I hed it on my min' las' time, when I to write ye started, To tech the leadin' featurs o' my gittin' me convarted; But, ez my letters hez to go clearn roun' by way o' Cuby, 'Twun't seem no staler now than then, by th' time it gits where you be. You know up North, though secs an' things air plenty ez you please, Ther' warn't nut one on 'em thet come jes' square with my idees: They all on 'em wuz too much mixed with Covenants o' Works, An' would hev answered jest ez wal for Afrikins an' Turks, Fer where's a Christian's privilege an' his rewards eusuin', Ef 'taint perfessin' right and eend 'thout nary need o' doin'? 10 I dessay they suit workin'-folks thet ain't noways pertic'lar, But nut your Southun gen'leman thet keeps his parpendic'lar; I don't blame nary man thet casts his lot along o' _his_ folks, But ef you cal'late to save _me_, 't must be with folks thet _is_ folks; Cov'nants o' works go 'ginst my grain, but down here I've found out The true fus'-fem'ly A 1 plan,--here's how it come about. When I fus' sot up with Miss S., sez she to me, sez she, 'Without you git religion, Sir, the thing can't never be; Nut but wut I respeck,' sez she, 'your intellectle part, But you wun't noways du for me athout a change o' heart; 20 Nothun religion works wal North, but it's ez soft ez spruce, Compared to ourn, for keepin' sound,' sez she, 'upon the goose; A day's experunce 'd prove to ye, ez easy 'z pull a trigger. It takes the Southun pint o' view to raise ten bales a nigger; You'll fin' thet human natur', South, ain't wholesome more 'n skin-deep, An' once 't a darkie's took with it, he wun't be wuth his keep,' 'How _shell_ I git it, Ma'am?'--sez I, 'Attend the nex' camp-meetin',' Sez she, 'an' it'll come to ye ez cheap ez onbleached sheetin'.' Wal, so I went along an' hearn most an impressive sarmon About besprinklin' Afriky with fourth-proof dew o' Harmon: 30 He didn't put no weaknin' in, but gin it tu us hot, 'Z ef he an' Satan 'd ben two bulls in one five-acre lot: I don't purtend to foller him, but give ye jes' the heads; For pulpit ellerkence, you know, 'most ollers kin' o' spreads. Ham's seed wuz gin to us in chairge, an' shouldn't we be li'ble In Kingdom Come, ef we kep' back their priv'lege in the Bible? The cusses an' the promerses make one gret chain, an' ef You snake one link out here, one there, how much on 't ud be lef'? All things wuz gin to man for 's use, his sarvice, an' delight; 39 An' don't the Greek an' Hebrew words thet mean a Man mean White? Ain't it belittlin' the Good Book in all its proudes' featurs To think 'twuz wrote for black an' brown an' 'lasses-colored creaturs, Thet couldn' read it, ef they would, nor ain't by lor allowed to, But ough' to take wut we think suits their naturs, an' be proud to? Warn't it more prof'table to bring your raw materil thru Where you can work it inta grace an' inta cotton, tu, Than sendin' missionaries out where fevers might defeat 'em, An' ef the butcher didn' call, their p'rishioners might eat 'em? An' then, agin, wut airthly use? Nor 'twarn't our fault, in so fur Ez Yankee skippers would keep on atotin' on 'em over. 50 'T improved the whites by savin' 'em from ary need o' workin', An' kep' the blacks from bein' lost thru idleness an' shirkin'; We took to 'em ez nat'ral ez a barn-owl doos to mice, An' hed our hull time on our hands to keep us out o' vice; It made us feel ez pop'lar ez a hen doos with one chicken, An' fill our place in Natur's scale by givin' 'em a lickin': For why should Cæsar git his dues more 'n Juno, Pomp, an' Cuffy? It's justifyin' Ham to spare a nigger when he's stuffy. Where'd their soles go tu, like to know, ef we should let 'em ketch Freeknowledgism an' Fourierism an' Speritoolism an' sech? 60 When Satan sets himself to work to raise his very bes' muss, He scatters roun' onscriptur'l views relatin' to Ones'mus. You'd ough' to seen, though, how his facs an' argymunce an' figgers Drawed tears o' real conviction from a lot o' pen'tent niggers! It warn't like Wilbur's meetin', where you're shet up in a pew, Your dickeys sorrin' off your ears, an' bilin' to be thru; Ther' wuz a tent clost by thet hed a kag o' sunthin' in it, Where you could go, ef you wuz dry, an' damp ye in a minute; An' ef you did dror off a spell, ther' wuzn't no occasion To lose the thread, because, ye see, he bellered like all Bashan. 70 It's dry work follerin' argymunce an' so, 'twix' this an' thet, I felt conviction weighin' down somehow inside my hat; It growed an' growed like Jonah's gourd, a kin' o' whirlin' ketched me, Ontil I fin'lly clean gin out an' owned up thet he'd fetched me; An' when nine tenths o' th' perrish took to tumblin' roun' an' hollerin', I didn' 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; 80 Arter I'd drawed sech heaps o' blanks, Fortin at last hez sent a prize, An' chose me for a shinin' light o' missionary entaprise.

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; 90 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' red o' you Thet waller in your low idees, an' will tell all is blue? 100 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 'tis to givin' lickins, Can't measure votes with folks thet get their living 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, 110 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, Magoffins, Letchers, Polks,-- Where can you scare up names like them among your mudsill 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 frum 'sponsible men whose word wuz full ez good's their note, Men thet can run their face for drinks, an' keep a Sunday coat, 120 That they wuz all on 'em come down, an' come down pooty fur, From folks thet, 'thout their crowns wuz on, ou' doors wouldn' 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 'twuz a double-headed calf I see once to a show? 130

For all thet, I warn't jest at fust in favor o' secedin'; I wuz for layin' low a spell to find out where 'twuz 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' didn'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; 140 (An', fact, it _doos_ look now ez though--but folks must live an' larn-- 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, 150 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 While Uncle Sam sot still in hopes thet some one'd bring his boots, I thought th' ole Union's hoops wuz off, an' let myself be sucked in To rise a peg an' jine the crowd thet went for reconstructin',-- Thet is to hev the pardnership under th' ole name continner Jest ez it wuz, we drorrin' pay, you findin' bone an' sinner,-- On'y to put it in the bond, an' enter 't in the journals, Thet you're the nat'ral rank an' file, an' we the nat'ral kurnels. 160

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: 170 Or ef he's a slow-moulded cuss thet can't seem quite t' 'gree, 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' preachin' an' convartin'; I'll bet my hat th' ain't nary priest, nor all on 'em together; Thet cairs conviction to the min' like Reveren' Taranfeather; Why, he sot up with me one night, an' labored to sech purpose, 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; 180 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 cheerfle 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, 190 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 'tis 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: 200 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 pride, Fer sech mean shucks ez creditors are all on Lincoln's side); Ef I hev scrip thet wun't go off no more 'n a Belgin 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, 210 An' thet experunce, time 'n' agin, to Dixie's Land hez shown Ther' 's nothin' like a powder-cask fer 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? 220

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, 239 Jeff don't allow no jawin'-sprees for three mouths 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 'em play at Congress, ef they'll 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,) 240 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 tother. An' _I_ tell _you_ you've gut to larn thet War ain't one long teeter Betwixt _I wan' to_ an' _'Twun't du_, debatin' 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. 250 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 Abe 'ud sink afore he'd let a darkie boost him, Ef Taney shouldn't come along an' hedn'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. 260