The Wheeling daily register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1864-1878, 1866-11-26

Nv Stlckln cuedt lutO INC tiauo.
scalds his leather snout dippin it INTO
your soup, he'll offer you a wooden nut
meg for enough of the skimmins to
grease the burn. He'll eat goldfish,
and try to cheat himself into believing
hits beef, and he'll listen to the chirpin
of the cricket in his firejam, and tell
his children that hit says cheat, cheat,
cheat" His big, Timber foot is o cheat,
for its shape and size makes You think
hit must have CUTS in hit, when hit
haint got one. If you cut his throat
you'll find cheat, for instead OF warm
red blood a stream of sky blue will run,
so cold that it'll freeze the black ants
what git overlooked bi the phlud, and
when the devil gifts him he'll be cheated,
for he won't burn as good as a .salted
rawhide. What he war ever made fur
is what's Fostering me, onless 1T war
to maik us hev better opinion OF pole
cats, possums and cotton mouths, or as
livin sampils tn skeer us ont of the road
to hell. Ireckon hit would be toler-
able safe rule to do muffin the Yankees
does, and do most anything what he lets
alone.
/ kin sorter bar the idear owe my bein
a natural born'd, darn'd fool, the sody
business sister Sails unlawful baby
eyerything-event the las war on Thad.
Stevens-but for the life owe Inc, can't
reconstruct myself on the idear owe
the landin owe the MayfoYer. What
cud our maker be thinkin, that he for
got to lay the fingers on her rotton
snout, an turn her down in the soft sea,
wifi hir pestiferous load ofcantin cheats
an moral diseases. The wus that cud
a happened would bin the pisening
owe a shoul OF two of sharks, and KILN
the coral where the ole Tub lay.
lam mad at the injins, too, for they
didn't do thar duty to 'em arter they did
lam. If they had circumsized the head
owe the last darn'd one, burnt thar close,
pack'd thar carcusses heads and tails,
herrin fashion, in thar old ship, sat the
sails an pinted her snout the way Wards
ducks went, they'd deserved tObacker
and whisky while wood grows or water
runs. Spose they'd strung three hun
dred an one scalps on willow switch
for bait, and went a mackeril fishln'
We'd have no mackeril now, / reckon,
but what general blessin it would a
bin to the whole yearth-the isles of the
sea, witches and the niggers. Wudn't
them injuns had savOry smell in my
snout, in spite of their grubworm odor
an wudn't / rise of midnight, or any
other night, to call 'em blessid, in spite
of thar roasting my granddady. Nc
wooden clocks, horn gun tlints, nul
higher law: no Millerism, Mormanism
nor free love. No Abolitionism, spirit
rappins, nor CROWN hens. No BloomeI
bit britches | mean to say; no Greeley
no Sumner. Oh. my grashus; hits toe
coed to think about. Durn them there
leather injuns; they let the best chance
slip ever injuns had to give everlasting
comfort to a continent, and to set he'll
back at least FIVE hundred years. Ise
powerful feared l amt reconstructed on
the injun question either.
George, pass the jug, the subject is
overpowering me, and l amt quite un:
buzumin myself yet. That's powerful
reaching whisky owe yourn.
Well, everything the Yankee does am
cheat in some way. The word cheat
covers his whole character as perfectly
as the ball ov dirt kivers the young tum'
bic bug, an like the bug he lives on hit,
waller in hit, rolls hit, and at last he is
buried in hit. Thar may be a iron
coffin and silver tassels, there may be a
grave stone from Italy, the side ov his
face may be cut intu rock, and stuck agin
the wall in his church, an they may call
their trottin horses, cod boats, and blue
babies arter him, yet still under that
black velvet kiverlid, inside that iron
coffin, atwiXt the fine inin, and that
shriviled hide of his'n, is that ball OF
dirt. lie couldn't live without hit, he
couldn't die without it, he couldn't lie
still in his grave without hit, and he
will never be without hit Ontil the
Sheriff Angel at the door of the last SUI
preme court shells him outen it with q
kick afore he slings'm naked into the
prisoners box, whar from the fust time
from his fust squall, and the
cold air in his snout, up tC
that orful kickin out on Judgment day
he'll stan only on his rale merits
Yankie wifi Il winder in his breast, like
one of his own hcmlock clocks, showing
all of his inside, springs traps and trl
gers Then we'll see what he rally il
for the fust time, and perhaps We'll fine
out what he was made for, if he were
made at all, or only jist happened like
Sail Simpsons baby did. Now we jist
know that he is a cuss to the yerth, an
a pest to every woman on hit, like fea'
and lice, and cath made as a cuss, keI
alike as a cuss. Then We'll know it all
but wethcr it will pay then to know i
is nightly mixed wit the doubts.