I hoped, las' spring, jest arter Sumter's shame,

When every flagstaff flapped its tethered flame,

An' all the people, startled from their doubt,

Come must rin' to the flag with sech a shout,

I hoped to see things settled 'fore this fall,

The Rebbles licked, Jeff Davis hanged, an' all;

Then come Bull Run, an' sence then I've ben waitin'

Like boys in Jennooary thaw for skatin',

Nothin' to du but watch my shadder's trace

Swing, like a ship at anchor, roun' my base,

With daylight's flood an' ebb: it's gitting slow,

An' I'most think we'd better let 'em

go.

I tell ye wut, this war's agoin to

cost

THE BRIDGE.

An' I tell you it wun't be money lost;

We wun't give up afore the ship goes down:

It's a stiff gale, but Providence wun't drown;

An' God wun't leave us yit to sink or swim,

Ef we don't fail to du wut's right by him.

This land o' ourn, I tell ye, 's gut to be

A better country than man ever

see.

I feel my sperit swellin' with a cry Thet seems to say, "Break forth an' prophesy!"

O strange New World, thet yit wast never young,

Whose youth from thee by gripin' need was wrung,

Brown foundlin' o' the woods, whose baby-bed

Was prowled roun' by the Injuns' cracklin' tread,

An' who grew'st strong thru shifts an' wants an' pains,

Nussed by stern men with empires in their brains,

Who saw in vision their young Ishmel strain

With each hard hand a vassal ocean's

I put some thoughts thet bothered me in rhyme:

I hain't hed time to fairly try 'em on, But here they be—it's

JONATHAN TO JOHN.

Ir don't seem hardly right, John,
When both my hands was full,
To stump me to a fight, John,
Your cousin, tu, John Bull!
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
We know it now," sez he,
"The lion's paw is all the law,
Accordin' to J. B.,

Thet's fit for you an' me!"

Blood ain't so cool as ink, John;

It's likely you'd ha' wrote, An' stopped a spell to think, John, Arter they'd cut your throat?

Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
He'd skurce ha' stopped, "sez he,
"To mind his p's an' q's ef thet
weasan'

He'd b'longed to ole J. B.,
Instid o' you an' me!"

Ef I turned mad dogs loose, John,
On your front-parlor stairs,
Would it jest meet your views, John,
To wait an' sue their heirs?

Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess,
I on'y guess," sez he,

"Thet, ef Vattell on his toes
fell,

'Twould kind o' rile J. B.,
Ez wal ez you and me!"

Who made the law thet hurts, John, Heads I win-ditto, tails?

"J. B." was on his shirts, John,
Onless my memory fails.

Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess,
(I'm good at thet,") sez he,
"Thet sauce for goose ain't jest
the juice

For ganders with J. B.,
No more than you or me!"

When your rights was our wrong, John,

You didn't stop for fuss,
Britanny's trident-prongs, John,
Was good 'nough law for us.

Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess,
Though physic's good," sez he,