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Scrape. Yes, very likely; but I this moment recollect the creature has no shoes on.

Der. Well, is there not a blacksmith hard by ?

Scrape. What! that tinker of a Dobson? I would not trust such a bungler to shoe a goat. No, no; none but unele Tom Thumper is capable of shoeing my mare.

Der. As good luck would have it, then, I shall pass right by his door.

Scrape. (Calling to his son.) Timothy, Timothy. Here's neighbor Derby, who wants the loan of the gray mare, to ride to town to-day. You know the skin was rubbed off her back last week a hand's breadth or more. (He gives Tim a wink.) However, I believe she is well enough by this time. You know, Tim, how ready I am to oblige my neighbors. And, indeed, we ought to do all the good we can in this world. We must certainly let neighbor Derby have her, if she will possibly answer his purpose. Yes, yes; I see plainly, by Tim's countenance, neighbor Derby, that he's disposed to oblige you. I I would not have refused you the mare for the worth of her. If I had, I should have expected you would have refused me in your turn. None of my neighbors can accuse me of being backward in doing them a kindness. Come, Timothy, what do you say?

Tim. What do I say, father? Why, I say, sir, that I am no less ready than you are to do a neighborly kindness. But the mare is by no means capable of performing the journey. About a hand's-breadth did you say, sir ? Why, the skin is torn from the poor creature's back, of the bigness of your broad-brimmed hat. And, besides, I have promised her, as soon as she is able to travel, to Ned Saunders, to carry a load of apples to the market.

Scrape. Do you hear that, neighbor? I am very sorry matters turn out thus. I would not have disobliged you for the price of two such mares. Believe me, neighbor Derby, I am really sorry, for your sake, that matters turn out thus.

Der. And I as much for yours, neighbor Scrapewell; for, to tell you the truth, I received, a letter this morning from Mr. Griffin, who tells me, if I will be in town this day, he will give me the refusal of all that lot of timber which he is about cutting down upon the back of Cobblehill; and I intended you should have shared half of it, which would have been not less than fifty dollars in your pocket. But, as your

Scrape. Fifty dollars, did you say?

Der. Ay, truly did I; but as your mare is out of order, I'll

go and see if I can get old Roan, the blacksmith's horse. Scrape. Old Roan! My mare is at your service, neighbor. Here, Tim, tell Ned Saunders he can't have the mare. Neighbor Derby wants her; and I won't refuse so good a friend anything he asks for.

Der. But what are you to do for meal?

Scrape. My wife can do without it this fortnight, if you want the mare so long.

Der. But then your saddle is all in pieces.

Scrape. I meant the old one. I have bought a new one since, and you shall have the first use of it.

Der. And you would have me call at Thumper's, and get her shod?

Scrape. No, no; I had forgotten to tell you, that I let neighbor Dobson shoe her last week, by way of trial; and, to do him justice, I must own, he shoes extremely well.

Der. But if the poor creature has lost so much skin from off her back

Scrape. Poh, poh! That is just one of our Tim's large stories. I do assure you, it was not at first bigger than my thumb-nail; and I am certain it has not grown any since.

Der. At least, however, let her have something she will eat, since she refuses hay.

Scrape. She did indeed refuse hay this morning; but the only reason was, that she was crammed full of oats. You have nothing to fear, neighbor; the mare is in perfect trim; and she will skim you over the ground like a bird. I wish you a good journey and a profitable job.

15*

LETTER FROM A PRESIDENTIAL CANDIDATE.

-Biglow PAPERS,

Dear Sir,-You wish to know my

notions On sartin pints thet rile the land; There's nothin' thet my natur so shuns

Ez bein' mum or underhand;
I'm a straight-spoken kind o creetur

Thet blurts right out wut's in his head,
An' ef I've one pecooler feetur,

It is a nose thet wunt be led.

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I'm an eclectic; ez to choosin'

Twixt this an' thet, I'm plaguy lawth; I leave a side thet looks like losin'.

But (wile there's doubt) I stick to both; I stan' upon the Constitution,

Ez preudunt statesmun say, who've planned A way to git the most profusion

O chances ez to ware they'll stand.

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About thet darned Proviso matter

I never hed a grain o' doubt, Nor I aint one my sense to scatter

So's no one could n't pick it out; My love fer North an' South is equil,

So I'll jest answer plump an' frank, No matter wut may be the sequil, -

Yes, Sir, I am agin a Bank.
Ez to the answerin' o' questions,

I'm an off ox at bein' druv,
Though I aint one thet ary test shuns

'll give our folks a helpin' shove; Kind o' promiscoous I go it

Fer the holl country, an' the ground
I take, ez nigh ez I can show it,

Is pooty gen’ally all round.
I don't appruve o givin' pledges;

You'd ough' to leave a feller free,
An' not go knockin' out the wedges

To ketch his fingers in the tree; Pledges air awfle breachy cattle

Thet preadent farmers don't turn out, Ez long 'z the people git their rattle,

Wut is there fer 'm to grout about ?

Ez to the slaves, there's no confusion

In my idees consarnin' them,

I think they air an Institution,

A sort of-yes, jest so,-ahem: Do I own any? Of my

merit On thet pint you yourself may jedge ; All is, I never drink no sperit,

Nor I haint never sigued no pledge.

Ez to my principles, I glory

In hevin' nothin' o' the sort;
I aint a Wig, I aint a Tory,

I’m jest a candidate, in short;
Thet 's fair an' square an' parpendicler,

But, ef the Public cares a fig
To hev me an' thin' in particler,

Wy, I'm a kind o' peri-wig.

P. S.
Ez we're a sort o' privateerin',

O'course, you know, it's sheer an' sheer, An' there sutthin' wuth your hearin'

I'll mention in your privit ear;
Ef you git me inside the White House,

Your head with ile I'll kin' o' 'nint
By gittin' you inside the Light-house

Down to the eend o Jaalam Pint.

An' ez the North has took to brustlin'

At bein' scrouged frum off the roost, I'll tell ye wut 'll save all tusslin'

An' give our side a harnsome boost,Tell 'em thet on the Slavery question

I'm right, although to speak I'm lawth; This gives you a safe pint to rest on,

An' leaves me frontin' South by North.

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