Owyhee bullion. [volume] (Silver City, I.T. [Idaho]) 1866-1867, 1867-06-20

his throat, you'll fine cheat, for instead
Of warm red blood stream of sky blue
will run so cold that it'll freese 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 wur ever made
fur is what's pestering me, onless ii
war to maik us hey a better opinion of
polecats, possums and cotton mouths, OF
as livin sampils to skcer us out of road
to hell | reckon hit would be a tolera-
BILE safe rule to do muffin the Yankee does,
and do most anything what he lets alone.
kin sorter bar the idear owe my beiD
natural born'd, Gurn'd fool, my dad
playin hi actin boss, the sody business,
sister Sails unlawful baby-everything,
everything, even the las war an Thad.
Stevens-but fur the life owe me, | CAM
reconstruct myself on the idear owe the
landin owe the Mayhower. What cud
our Maker bin thinkin about, that he
forgot to lay his finger on her rotten old
snout, and turn her down in the middle
of the soft sea, wifi her pestiferous load
owe cantin cheats an mori diseases. The
wust that cud a happened would a bin
the pisining ov shoul or twoo owe sharks,
and KILN the coral where the ole tub
lay.
am mad at the injuns too, for they
didn't begin to do thar duty to 'em arter
they did Ian. If they had carcumsized
the head owe the last durn'd one, burnt
thar close, pack'd thar carcusses head an
tails, herrin fashion, in thar old ship, sot
the sails and pinted her snout the way
Wards ducks went, they'd desarve to-
backer and whisky while wood grows or
warter runs. Spase they had strung
three hundred and on scalps on a willow
switch for bait, and went mackeril fish
in. We'd have no mackeril now, reck-
on, but what general blessin it would
bin to the whole yearth-the isles of the
sea, witches and the niggers. Wudn't
them injuns had savery smell in my
snout, in spite Of thar grubworm oder,
and wudn't rise of midnight, or any
other night, to call 'em blessid, in spite Of
thar rosstin my grandaddy. No wooien
clocks, horn gun fints, nur higher law;
no Nillerism, Mormonism, nur free love,
No Abolitionism, spirit rappius, nor
CROWN hens. No Bloomer bit britches
| mean to say; no Greeley, no Sumner,
Oh my gracious, hist too good to think
about. Dern them leather injuns; they
let the best chance slip ever injCns had
to give everlasting comfort to a CONT
nent. and to set hell back at least five
hundred years. Ise powerful feard
aint reconstructed on the Injun question
either.
George, pass the jug, the subject is
overpowering me, and amt quite onbuz-
umin myself yet That's powerful reach
in whisky owe yourn.
Well everything the Yankees does
am cheat in some way. The word
cheat kivers his whole character as per-
fectly as the ball of dirt kivcrs the young
tumble bug, and like the bug he lives on
hit, walters 10 hit, and atlas, heis buried
in hit. Thar may be iron coffin and
silver tassels, there may be grave stone
from Italy, the side of his face may be
cut out'n rock, an stuck agiD the wall in-
side his chu'ch, aud they may call their
trottin hosses, cod boats aud blue babys
arter i'm, yet still under that black vel.
vet kivetlid, inside that coffin, atwixt the
fine linin, an that shiviled hide Of his'n,
is that ball of dirt He couldn't live
without hit, he couldn't die without hit,
he couldn't lie still in his grave without
hit, and he never will be without hit on.
til the sheriff angel at the door of the last
Supreme Court shells him outen it with
kick afore he sliDgs him naked into the
prisoners box, whar from the fust time
from his fust squall, and the cold air in
his snout up to that orful kickin out on
Judgment day, he'll stan only on his rale
merits-a Yankee wifi winder in his
breast like one of his own hemlock clocks,
showing all his inside, springs traps and
triggers. Then we'll see what he ralely
is for the first time, and pehaps we'll find
out what be was made for, If he wero