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James Russell Lowell - A Third Letter From B. Sawin, Esq.
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I spose you recollect thet I explained my gennle views
In the last billet thet I writ, `way down frum Veery Cruze,
Jest arter I`d a kin` o` ben spontanously sot up
To run unannermously fer the Preserdential cup;
O` course it worn`t no wish o` mine, `twuz ferflely distressin`,
But poppiler enthusiasm gut so almighty pressin`
Thet, though like sixty all along I fumed an` fussed an` sorrered,
There didn`t seem no ways to stop their bringin` on me forrerd:
Fact is, they udged the matter so, I couldn`t help admittin`
The Father o` his Country`s shoes no feet but mine `ould fit in,      
Besides the savin` o` the soles fer ages to succeed,
Seein` thet with one wannut foot, a pair`d be more `n I need;
An`, tell ye wut, them shoes`ll want a thund`rin sight o` patchin`,
Ef this ere fashion is to last we`ve gut into o` hatchin`
A pair o` second Washintons fer every new election,--
Though, fer ez number one`s consarned, I don`t make no objection.

I wuz agoin` on to say thet wen at fust I saw
The masses would stick to `t I wuz the Country`s father-`n-law,
(They would ha` hed it _Father_, but I told `em `twouldn`t du,
Coz thet wuz sutthin` of a sort they couldn`t split in tu,       
An` Washinton hed hed the thing laid fairly to his door,
Nor darsn`t say `tworn`t his`n, much ez sixty year afore,)
But `taint no matter ez to thet; wen I wuz nomernated,
`Tworn`t natur but wut I should feel consid`able elated,
An` wile the hooraw o` the thing wuz kind o` noo an` fresh,
I thought our ticket would ha` caird the country with a resh.

Sence I`ve come hum, though, an` looked round, I think I seem to find
Strong argimunts ez thick ez fleas to make me change my mind;
It`s clear to any one whose brain aint fur gone in a phthisis,
Thet hail Columby`s happy land is goin` thru a crisis,      
An` `twouldn`t noways du to hev the people`s mind distracted
By bein` all to once by sev`ral pop`lar names attackted;
`Twould save holl haycartloads o` fuss an` three four months o` jaw,
Ef some illustrous paytriot should back out an` withdraw;
So, ez I aint a crooked stick, jest like--like ole (I swow,
I dunno ez I know his name)--I`ll go back to my plough.
Wenever an Amerikin distinguished politishin
Begins to try et wut they call definin` his posishin,
Wal, I, fer one, feel sure he ain`t gut nothin` to define;
It`s so nine cases out o` ten, but jest thet tenth is mine;       
An` `taint no more `n proper `n` right in sech a sitooation
To hint the course you think`ll be the savin` o` the nation;
To funk right out o` p`lit`cal strife aint thought to be the thing,
Without you deacon off the toon you want your folks should sing;
So I edvise the noomrous friends thet`s in one boat with me
To jest up killick, jam right down their hellum hard alee,
Haul the sheets taut, an`, layin` out upon the Suthun tack,
Make fer the safest port they can, wich, _I_ think, is Ole Zack.

Next thing you`ll want to know, I spose, wut argimunts I seem
To see thet makes me think this ere`ll be the strongest team;    
Fust place, I`ve ben consid`ble round in bar-rooms an` saloons
Agetherin` public sentiment, `mongst Demmercrats and Coons,
An` `taint ve`y offen thet I meet a chap but wut goes in
Fer Rough an` Ready, fair an` square, hufs, taller, horns, an` skin;
I don`t deny but wut, fer one, ez fur ez I could see,
I didn`t like at fust the Pheladelphy nomernee:
I could ha` pinted to a man thet wuz, I guess, a peg
Higher than him,--a soger, tu, an` with a wooden leg;
But every day with more an` more o` Taylor zeal I`m burnin`,
Seein` wich way the tide thet sets to office is aturnin`;       
Wy, into Bellers`s we notched the votes down on three sticks,--
`Twuz Birdofredum _one_, Cass _aught_ an Taylor _twenty-six_,
An` bein` the on`y canderdate thet wuz upon the ground,
They said `twuz no more `n right thet I should pay the drinks all round;
Ef I`d expected sech a trick, I wouldn`t ha` cut my foot
By goin` an` votin` fer myself like a consumed coot;
It didn`t make no deff`rence, though; I wish I may be cust,
Ef Bellers wuzn`t slim enough to say he wouldn`t trust!

Another pint thet influences the minds o` sober jedges
Is thet the Gin`ral hezn`t gut tied hand an` foot with pledges;    
He hezn`t told ye wut he is, an` so there aint no knowin`
But wut he may turn out to be the best there is agoin`;
This, at the on`y spot thet pinched, the shoe directly eases,
Coz every one is free to `xpect percisely wut he pleases:
I want free-trade; you don`t; the Gin`ral isn`t bound to neither;--
I vote my way; you, yourn; an` both air sooted to a T there.
Ole Rough an` Ready, tu, `s a Wig, but without bein` ultry;
He`s like a holsome hayin` day, thet`s warm, but isn`t sultry;
He`s jest wut I should call myself, a kin` of _scratch_ ez `tware,
Thet aint exacly all a wig nor wholly your own hair;       
I `ve ben a Wig three weeks myself, jest o` this mod`rate sort,
An` don`t find them an` Demmercrats so defferent ez I thought;
They both act pooty much alike, an` push an` scrouge an` cus;
They`re like two pickpockets in league fer Uncle Samwells pus;
Each takes a side, an` then they squeeze the ole man in between `em,
Turn all his pockets wrong side out an` quick ez lightnin` clean `em;
To nary one on `em I`d trust a secon`-handed rail
No furder off `an I could sling a bullock by the tail.

Webster sot matters right in thet air Mashfiel` speech o` his`n;
`Taylor,` sez he, `aint nary ways the one thet I`d a chizzen,    
Nor he aint fittin` fer the place, an` like ez not he aint
No more `n a tough ole bullethead, an` no gret of a saint;
But then,` sez he, `obsarve my pint, he`s jest ez good to vote fer
Ez though the greasin` on him worn`t a thing to hire Choate fer;
Aint it ez easy done to drop a ballot in a box
Fer one ez `tis fer t`other, fer the bull-dog ez the fox?`
It takes a mind like Dannel`s, fact, ez big ez all ou` doors,
To find out thet it looks like rain arter it fairly pours;
I `gree with him, it aint so dreffle troublesome to vote
Fer Taylor arter all,--it`s jest to go an` change your coat;        
Wen he`s once greased, you`ll swaller him an` never know on `t, scurce,
Unless he scratches, goin` down, with them `ere Gin`ral`s spurs.
I`ve ben a votin` Demmercrat, ez reg`lar as a clock,
But don`t find goin` Taylor gives my narves no gret `f a shock;
Truth is, the cutest leadin` Wigs, ever sence fust they found
Wich side the bread gut buttered on, hev kep` a edgin` round;
They kin` o` slipt the planks frum out th` ole platform one by one
An` made it gradooally noo, `fore folks khow`d wut wuz done,
Till, fur `z I know, there aint an inch thet I could lay my han` on,
But I, or any Demmercrat, feels comf`table to stan` on,          
An` ole Wig doctrines act`lly look, their occ`pants bein` gone,
Lonesome ez steddies on a mash without no hayricks on.

I spose it`s time now I should give my thoughts upon the plan,
Thet chipped the shell at Buffalo, o` settin` up ole Van.
I used to vote fer Martin, but, I swan, I`m clean disgusted,--
He aint the man thet I can say is fittin` to be trusted;
He aint half antislav`ry `nough, nor I aint sure, ez some be,
He`d go in fer abolishin` the Deestrick o` Columby;
An`, now I come to recollec`, it kin` o` makes me sick `z
A horse, to think o` wut he wuz in eighteen thirty-six.           
An` then, another thing;--I guess, though mebby I am wrong,
This Buff`lo plaster aint agoin` to dror almighty strong;
Some folks, I know, hev gut th` idee thet No`thun dough`ll rise,
Though, `fore I see it riz an `baked, I wouldn`t trust my eyes;
`Twill take more emptins, a long chalk, than this noo party`s gut,
To give sech heavy cakes ez them a start, I tell ye wut.
But even ef they caird the day, there wouldn`t be no endurin`
To stan` upon a platform with sech critters ez Van Buren;--
An` his son John, tu, I can`t think how thet `ere chap should dare
To speak ez he doos; wy, they say he used to cuss an` swear!       
I spose he never read the hymn thet tells how down the stairs
A feller with long legs wuz throwed thet wouldn`t say his prayers.
This brings me to another pint: the leaders o` the party
Aint jest sech men ez I can act along with free an` hearty;
They aint not quite respectable, an` wen a feller`s morrils
Don`t toe the straightest kin` o` mark, wy, him an` me jest quarrils.
I went to a free soil meetin` once, an` wut d`ye think I see?
A feller was aspoutin` there thet act`lly come to me,
About two year ago last spring, ez nigh ez I can jedge,
An` axed me ef I didn`t want to sign the Temprunce pledge!         
He`s one o` them that goes about an` sez you hedn`t oughter
Drink nothin`, mornin`, noon, or night, stronger `an Taunton water.
There`s one rule I`ve ben guided by, in settlin` how to vote, ollers,--
I take the side thet _isn`t_ took by them consarned teetotallers.

Ez fer the niggers, I`ve ben South, an` thet hez changed my min`;
A lazier, more ongrateful set you couldn`t nowers fin`,
You know I mentioned in my last thet I should buy a nigger,
Ef I could make a purchase at a pooty mod`rate figger;
So, ez there`s nothin` in the world I`m fonder of `an gunnin`,
I closed a bargain finally to take a feller runnin`.     
I shou`dered queen`s-arm an` stumped out, an` wen I come t` th` swamp,
`Tworn`t very long afore I gut upon the nest o` Pomp;
I come acrost a kin` o` hut, an`, playin` round the door,
Some little woolly-headed cubs, ez many `z six or more.
At fust I thought o` firin`, but _think twice_ is safest ollers;
There aint, thinks I, not one on `em but`s wuth his twenty dollars,
Or would be, ef I hed `em back into a Christian land,--
How temptin` all on `em would look upon an auction-stand!
(Not but wut _I_ hate Slavery, in th` abstract, stem to starn,--
I leave it ware our fathers did, a privit State consarn.)     
Soon `z they see me, they yelled an` run, but Pomp wuz out ahoein`
A leetle patch o` corn he hed, or else there aint no knowin`
He wouldn`t ha` took a pop at me; but I hed gut the start,
An` wen he looked, I vow he groaned ez though he`d broke his heart;
He done it like a wite man, tu, ez nat`ral ez a pictur,
The imp`dunt, pis`nous hypocrite! wus `an a boy constrictur.
`You can`t gum _me_, I tell ye now, an` so you needn`t try,
I `xpect my eye-teeth every mail, so jest shet up,` sez I.
`Don`t go to actin` ugly now, or else I`ll let her strip,
You`d best draw kindly, seein` `z how I`ve gut ye on the hip;     
Besides, you darned ole fool, it aint no gret of a disaster
To be benev`lently druv back to a contented master,
Ware you hed Christian priv`ledges you don`t seem quite aware on,
Or you`d ha` never run away from bein` well took care on;
Ez fer kin` treatment, wy, he wuz so fond on ye, he said,
He`d give a fifty spot right out, to git ye, `live or dead;
Wite folks aint sot by half ez much; `member I run away,
Wen I wuz bound to Cap`n Jakes, to Mattysqumscot Bay;
Don` know him, likely? Spose not; wal, the mean old codger went
An` offered--wut reward, think? Wal, it worn`t no _less_ `n a cent.`     

Wal, I jest gut `em into line, an` druv `em on afore me;
The pis`nous brutes, I`d no idee o` the ill-will they bore me;
We walked till som`ers about noon, an` then it grew so hot
I thought it best to camp awile, so I chose out a spot
Jest under a magnoly tree, an` there right down I sot;
Then I unstrapped my wooden leg, coz it begun to chafe,
An` laid it down `longside o` me, supposin` all wuz safe;
I made my darkies all set down around me in a ring,
An` sot an` kin` o` ciphered up how much the lot would bring;
But, wile I drinked the peaceful cup of a pure heart an` min`       
(Mixed with some wiskey, now an` then), Pomp he snaked up behin`,
An` creepin` grad`lly close tu, ez quiet ez a mink,
Jest grabbed my leg, an` then pulled foot, quicker `an you could wink,
An`, come to look, they each on` em hed gut behin` a tree,
An` Pomp poked out the leg a piece, jest so ez I could see,
An` yelled to me to throw away my pistils an` my gun,
Or else thet they`d cair off the leg, an` fairly cut an` run.
I vow I didn`t b`lieve there wuz a decent alligatur
Thet hed a heart so destitoot o` common human natur;
However, ez there worn`t no help, I finally give in     
An` heft my arms away to git my leg safe back agin.

Pomp gethered all the weapins up, an` then he come an` grinned,
He showed his ivory some, I guess, an` sez, `You`re fairly pinned;
Jest buckle on your leg agin, an` git right up an` come,
`T wun`t du fer fammerly men like me to be so long frum hum.`
At fust I put my foot right down an` swore I wouldn`t budge.
`Jest ez you choose,` sez he, quite cool, `either be shot or trudge.`
So this black-hearted monster took an` act`lly druv me back
Along the very feetmarks o` my happy mornin` track,
An` kep` me pris`ner `bout six months, an` worked me, tu, like sin,    
Till I hed gut his corn an` his Carliny taters in;
He made me larn him readin`, tu (although the crittur saw
How much it hut my morril sense to act agin the law),
So`st he could read a Bible he`d gut; an` axed ef I could pint
The North Star out; but there I put his nose some out o` jint,
Fer I weeled roun` about sou`west, an`, lookin` up a bit,
Picked out a middlin` shiny one an` tole him thet wuz it.
Fin`lly he took me to the door, an` givin` me a kick,
Sez, `Ef you know wut`s best fer ye, be off, now, double-quick;
The winter-time`s a comin` on, an` though I gut ye cheap,     
You`re so darned lazy, I don`t think you`re hardly woth your keep;
Besides, the childrin`s growin` up, an` you aint jest the model
I`d like to hev `em immertate, an` so you`d better toddle!`

Now is there anythin` on airth`ll ever prove to me
Thet renegader slaves like him air fit fer bein` free?
D` you think they`ll suck me in to jine the Buff`lo chaps, an` them
Rank infidels thet go agin the Scriptur`l cus o` Shem?
Not by a jugfull! sooner `n thet, I`d go thru fire an` water;
Wen I hev once made up my mind, a meet`nhus aint sotter;       
No, not though all the crows thet flies to pick my bones wuz cawin`,--
I guess we`re in a Christian land,--
                                 Yourn,
                                      BIRDOFREDUM SAWIN.
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