The Sun.
London, England, 1866-05-23 00:00:00

The Latest " Biglow Paper."

The May number of the Atlantic Monthly (for sale by
TitunNEß an Co., Paternost6r-row) contains another
brilliant political paper from the pen of JAMES RUSSELL
LOWELL, entitled "Mr. HOSEA BIGLOW'S Speech in March
Meeting."

It is the last BIGLOW paper in two senses—for the
author announces in his quaint prose introduction that it
"is goin' to be the last an' stay the last onless suthin' par-
tikler sh'd interfear, which I don't expec', nor I wun't
yield to it if it wuz ez pressing ez a deputy sheriff."
The poem is in the long meter lines and Yankee dialect
made familiar by the BIGLOW papers of twenty years ago,
and is introduced by a letter to the editor and an inimita-
ble "argymunt "in the old style. It purports to be a
speech rehearsed by Mr. BIGLOW to the cabbage heads in
his garden. After flattering his undemonstratiVe audience
into a good humour, the orator glides naturally into a re-
mark on the return of spring and its birds—
" But thet white dove Carliny scared away,
Five year ago, jes' seek an' Aprul day;
Peace, that we hoped, 'ould come an' build last year
An' coo by every housedoor, is n't here,—
No, nor won't never be, for all our jaw,
Till we 're as brave in pol'tics ez in war ?
0 Lord, of folks wuz made so 's 't they could see
The bagnet-pint there is to an idee !
Ten times the danger in 'em th' is in steel;
They run yoUr soul thru an' you never feel, •
But crawl about an seem to think you 're livin',
Poor shells o' men, nut wuth the Lord's forgivin',
Till you come burnt agin a real live fact,
An' go to pieces when you 'd ough' to act !
Thet kin' o' bagnet 's wut we 're crossin' now,
An' no man, fit to nevvigate a scow,
'Ould sten' expectin' help from Kingdom Come
Whe t' other side druv their cold iron home."
Mr. BIGLOW further explains his political creed by
saying—
But all I ask of Uncle Sam is fust
To write up on his door, " No goods on trust ;"
Give us cash down in ekle laws for all,
An' they'll be swung inside afore nex' fall.
And, referring to the South—
" Make 'em Amerikin, an' they'll begin
• To love their country ez they loved their sin ;
Let 'em stay Southun, an' you've kep' a sore
Ready to fester as it done afore."
He says, further—
'Some call 't insultin' to ask ary pledge,
An' say 'twill only set their teeth on edge ;
But folks you've jest licked, fur 'z I ever see,
Are 'bout ez mad ez they know how to be ;
It's better than the robs themselves expected,
'Fore they see Uncle Sam will down henpected."
The poet then refers to "my policy" and the different
expositions of it, in the following admirable and delicious
manner—
I tell ye wut, I'm 'fraid we'll drift to leeward
'Thout we can put more stiffnen' into Seward ;
Ho seems to think Columby'd better act
Like a scared widder with a boy stiff-necked

Thet stomps an' swears he wunt come in to supper ;
She mus' set up for him ez weak ez Tupper,
Keepin' the Constitootiott on to warm,
Till he'll accept her 'pologies in form ;
The neighbours tell her he's a cross-grained cuss
Thet needs a hidin', 'fore he comes to wus ;
"No," sez Ma Seward, " he's ez good 'z the best,
All he wants now is sugar-plums an' rest."
"He sarsed my Pa," sez one; "He stoned my son,"
Another edds, " 0, wal, 't wurz jest his fun."
"He tried to shoot our Uncle Samwell dead."
" 'T waz only trying' a noo gun he hed."
Wal. all we ask's to hey it understood
You'll take his gun away from him for good ;
We don't, wal, not exacly, like his play,
Seein' he allus kin' o' shoots our way.
You kill your fatted calves to no good eend
Thout his fust saying, "Mother, I hey sinned!"
The Pres'dunt he thinks thet the slickest plan
'Ould be 't allow thet he's our only man.
An' thet we fit thru all the dreffle war
Jes' for his 'private glory an' eclor ;
"Nobody ain't a Union man,' sez he,
"'Thout he agrees, thru thick an' thin, with me ;
War n't Andrew Jackson's 'nitials jes' like mine ?
An' ain't thet suthin' like a right divine
To cut up ez kentenkerous ez. I please,
An' treat your Congress like a nest o' fleas ?"
Val, I expec' the People would n' care, if
The question now wuz teachin' bank or tariff,
But I conclude they 've 'bout made up their mind
This ain't the fittest time to go it blind,
Nor these ain't matters that with ponies swings,
But goes 'way down amongst the roots o' things;
Cos Sumner talked o' whitewashin' one day
They wun't let four years' war be throwed away.
"Let the South hevher rights?" They say, "Thet's you!
But nut greb hold of other folk's tu. '
Who owns this country, is it they or Andy ?
Leastways it ought' to be the people and he :
Let him be senior pardner, of he 's so,
But let thorn kin' o' smuggle in ez Co ;

Did he diskiver it ? Consid'ble numbers
Think thet the job wuz taken by Columbus.
Did he set to an' make it wut it is?
Ef so, I guess the One-Man-power hez riz .
Did he put thru'the rebbles, clear the docket,
An' pay the expenses out of his own pocket ?
Ef thet's the case, then everythin' I exes
Is 't hev him come an' pay my annooal texes.
Was 't he thet shou'dered all them million guns ?
Did he lose all the fathers, brothers, sons?
In this ere pop'lar gov'ment thet we run
A kin' o' sulky, made to kerry one ?
An' is the country goin' to knuckle down
To hey Smith sort their letters 'stid 'o Brown ?
Who wuz the 'Nited States 'fore Richmon' fell ?
Wuz the South needfle their full name to spell ?
An' can't we spell it in their short han' way
Till th' underpinnin"s settled so 's to stay?
Who cares for the resolves of '6l,
Thet tried to coax an airthquake with a bun ?
Hez act'ly nothin' taken place sence then
To l'arn folks they must hendle facts like men ?
Ain't this the true p'int ? Did the robs accep' em ?
Ef nut, whose fault is 't thet we hev n't kep"em ?
War n't there two sides ? and don't it stend to reason
Thet this week's 'Nited States ain't las' week's treason?
When all these sums is done, with nothin' missed,
An' nut afore, this school 'll be dismissed.
After much more capital humour and sound logic,
the orator remarks to his vegetables—
" I've noticed thet each half-baked scheme's abetters
Are in the hebbit o' producin' letters
Writ by all sorts o' never-heard-on fellers,
'Bout oz oridge'nal ez the wind in bellars;
I've noticed, in it 's the quack med'cines gits
(An' needs) the grettest heaps o' stiffykits."
He then proceeds to quote at length from a letter received
from

“ A Northun Dem'crat o' th' ole Jersey blue,
Born copper sheathed an' copperfastened tu.”
Here is the last stanza of the epistle. The writer has
seen the Veto Message and the President's speech Of
February 22
" I like the speech best, I confess,
The logic, prudence, and good taste on't,
And it's so mad, I rather guess
There's some dependence to be placed on't;
It's narrier, but 'twist you an' me,
Out o' the allies o' J. D.
A temp'ry party can be based on't.
"Jes' to hold on till Johnson's thru'
An' dug his Presidential grave is,.
An' then !—who knows but we could slew
The country roun' to put in ?
Wun't some folks rare up when we pull
Out o' their eyes our. Union wool
An' lam 'em wut a p'lit'cle shave is !

"0, did it seem 'z of Providunce
Could ever send a second Tyler ?
To see the South all back at once,
Reapin' the spiles o' the Freesiler,
Is cute ez though an engineer
Should claim th' old iron for his sheer
Because 't wuz him that bust the biler."

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