"Slavery's a thing that depends on complexion, It's God's law thet fetters on black skins don't chafe; Ef brains wuz to settle it (horrid reflection!) Wich of our onnable body'd be safe?" Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he; Sez Mister Hannegan, Afore he began agin, "Thet exception is quite oppertoon," sez he. "Gen'nle Cass, Sir, you needn't be twitchin' your collar, Sez Mister Jarnagin, "They wunt hev to larn again, They all on 'em know the old toon," sez he. "The slavery question aint no ways bewilderin'. North an' South hev one int'rest, it's plain to a glance; No'thern men, like us patriarchs, don't sell their childrin, But they du sell themselves, ef they git a good chance," Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he; Sez Atherton here, "This is gittin' severe, I wish I could dive like a loon," sez he. "It'll break up the Union, this talk about freedom, "Yes, the North," sez Colquitt, "Ef we Southerners all quit, Would go down like a busted balloon," sez he. "Jest look wut is doin', wut annyky's brewin' An' the sankylots drorin' an' drinkin' their wine," "Yes," sez Johnson, "in France Beelzebub's own rigadoon," sez he. "The South's safe enough, it don't feel a mite skeery, Our slaves in their darkness an' dut air tu blest Not to welcome with proud hallylugers the ery Wen our eagle kicks yourn from the naytional nest,” Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he; "O," sez Westcott o' Florida, "Wut treason is horrider Then our priv❜leges tryin' to proon?" sez he. "It's 'coz they're so happy, thet, wen crazy sarpints "Ah," sez Dixon H. Lewis, "It perfectly true is Thet slavery's airth's grettest boon," sez he. WHAT MR. ROBINSON THINKS. GUVENER B. is a sensible man; He stays to his home an' looks arter his folks; Robinson he Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B. My! aint it terrible? Wut shall we du? We can't never choose him, o' course, thet's flat; Guess we shall hev to come round, (don't you?) An' go in fer thunder an' guns, an' all that; Fer John P. Robinson he Sez he wunt vote fer Guvener B. Gineral C. is a dreffle smart man: He's ben on all sides thet give places or pelf; But consistency still wuz a part of his plan, He's ben true to one party, — an' thet is himself; - Robinson he Sez he shall vote fer Gineral C. Gineral C. he goes in fer the war; He don't vally principle more'n an old cud; Wut did God make us raytional creeturs fer, But glory an' gunpowder, plunder an' blood? So John P. Robinson he Sez he shall vote fer Gineral C. We were gittin' on nicely up here to our village, Robinson he Sez this kind o' thing's an exploded idee. The side of our country must ollers be took, An' Presidunt Polk, you know, he is our country; Robinson he Sez this is his view of the thing to a T. Parson Wilbur he calls all these argimunts lies; Is half on it ignorance, an' t' other half rum; But John P. Robinson he Sez it aint no sech thing; an', of course, so must we. Parson Wilbur sez he never heerd in his life Thet th' Apostles rigged out in their swaller-tail coats, An' marched round in front of a drum an' a fife, To git some on 'em office, an' some on 'em votes; But John P. Robinson he Sez they didn't know everythin' down in Judee. Wal, it's a marcy we've gut folks to tell us The rights an' the wrongs o' these matters, I vow, God sends country lawyers, an' other wise fellers, To drive the world's team wen it gits in a slough; Fer John P. Robinson he Sez the world'll go right, ef he hollers out Gee! LUCIAN. LUCIAN (LUCIANUS, the Latin form of his Greek name LOUKI ▲ NOS), a Greek satirist, born at Samosata on the Euphrates about A.D. 120; died in Egypt about 200. He was apprenticed to a sculptor, but at an early age devoted himself to the study of rhetoric, at Antioch. He afterward visited parts of Asia Minor, Greece, and Italy; then went to Gaul, where he resided several years. Near the close of his life he was made a procurator in Egypt. The "Works" of Lucian, as translated into English by William Tooke (1820), fill two stout quarto volumes. The best known of his works are the "Dialogues of the Gods," and the "Dialogues of the Dead." Some of his dialogues are entitled "Timon, the Misanthrope," "Charon," "Menippus," "The Assembly of the Gods," etc. THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS. Persons: ZEUS, HERMES, PARIS, HERA, ATHENA, APHRODITE. Zeus. Hermes, take this apple and go to Phrygia, to Priam's son, the cowherd, he is pasturing his drove on Ida, and say to him that since he is handsome himself, and a connoisseur in matters of love, he has been appointed by Zeus to judge which is the fairest of the three goddesses. The apple is to be the victor's prize. [To the goddesses.] It is time now that you ladies were off to the judge. I have delegated the office of umpire because I am equally attached to you all, and if it were possible I should gladly see you all win. Moreover, the man who gives the prize of beauty to one must in the nature of things be detested by the others. These reasons disqualify me as umpire; but the young man in Phrygia to whom you are going is of a royal house, being in fact a cousin of Ganymede, whom you know, and he has the simple manner of the mountains. Aphrodite. For my part, Zeus, you might make Momus himself the umpire and I should still go confidently to trial; for what could he find to criticise in me? And the others must needs put up with the man. Hera. We are not afraid either, Aphrodite, even if your Ares were to settle the question. We are satisfied with this man, whoever he is, - this Paris. Zeus [to Athena]. Well, daughter, are you of the same mind? What do you say? You turn away blushing? It is natural for you virgins to be coy in such matters. But you might at least nod. [Athena nods.] Off with you, then; and the defeated, mind you, are not to be angry with the judge nor to do any harm to the young man. It is impossible for all to be equal in beauty. [They start.] Hermes. Let us make straight for Phrygia. I will go first and do you follow smartly. And don't be uneasy. I know Paris; he is a handsome young fellow, a lover by temperament, and a most competent judge in such cases as this. His decision will certainly be correct. -- Aphrodite. That is good news, and all in my favor. [To Hermes, apart.] Is this person a bachelor, or has he a wife? Hermes. Not exactly a bachelor. Aphrodite. What do you mean? Hermes.- Apparently a woman of Ida is his mate: a good enough creature, but crude and extremely rustic. He does not seem to care much about her. But why do you ask? Athena [to Hermes]. — This is a breach of trust, sirrah. You are having a private understanding with Aphrodite. Hermes. It's nothing terrible, and has nothing to do with you. She was asking me whether Paris is a bachelor. Athena. Why is that any business of hers? Hermes. I don't know; she says she asked casually, without any object. Athena. Has he any leaning towards war? Is he an ambitious person, or a cowherd merely? Hermes. I can't say certainly; but it is safe to guess that a man of his age will hanker after fighting and long to distinguish himself in the field. Aphrodite. See now, I don't find any fault with you for talking apart with her. Fault-finding is not natural to Aphrodite. Hermes. She was asking me almost exactly what you did, - VOL XIV. — 3 |