I chastised wun who gave me lip; and he sood me, a Caucashun, for
assault and battery, and got a judgment!
Wale! for Moses put out his hand to save us these indignities, but his
hand wuz too weak.
We killed Linkin in vain.
Our Moses is playin Jaxon. He fancieth he resembleth him, becoz his
inishals is the same.
He resembleth Jaxon muchly--in that Jaxon hed a policy wich he cood
carry out, while our Moses hez a policy wich he can't carry out.
And ez he can't carry out his policy, the people are carryin it out for
him.
Wich they do, a holdin it at arm's length, and holdin their noses.
Moses is a cake half baked; he is hot on one side, and cold on tother.
He darsn't let go uv Ablishnism, and is afeerd to come to us.
He hez been takin epsom salts and epecac; and one is workin up, and the
other is workin down.
Where kin we look for comfort?
Do we turn to the people? Connecticut answers, "'Ror for Hawley!" and
Noo Hampshier goes Ablishun.
Do we turn to the courts? Lo! Taney hez gone to his reward--him who
aforetime dealt out Dimekratic justice, and who understood the nacher uv
the nigger,--and Chase, who is pizen, reigns in his stead.
Raymond is growin weak in the knees, and Doolittle is a broken reed on
which to lean.
We are too short at both ends.
Shall we go to Brazil? Lo! there they put niggers in office.
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