Poor shotes thet ye couldn’t persuade us to tech,
Not in ornery times, though we’re willin’ to feed ’em
With a nod now an’ then, when we happen to need ’em;
Why, for my part, I’d ruther shake hands with a nigger
Than with cusses that load an’ don’t darst dror a trigger;
They’re the wust wooden nutmegs the Yankees perdooce,
Shaky everywheres else, an’ jes’ sound on the goose; 210
They ain’t wuth a cuss, an’ I set nothin’ by ’em,
But we’re in sech a fix thet I s’pose we mus’ try ’em. 
I—­But, Gennlemen, here’s a despatch jes’ come in
Which shows thet the tide’s begun turnin’ agin’,—­
Gret Cornfedrit success!  C’lumbus eevacooated! 
I mus’ run down an’ hev the thing properly stated,
An’ show wut a triumph it is, an’ how lucky
To fin’lly git red o’ thet cussed Kentucky,—­
An’ how, sence Fort Donelson, winnin’ the day
Consists in triumphantly gittin’ away. 220

No.  V

SPEECH OF HONOURABLE PRESERVED DOE IN SECRET CAUCUS

TO THE EDITORS OF THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY

JAALAM, 12th April, 1862.

GENTLEMEN,—­As I cannot but hope that the ultimate, if not speedy, success of the national arms is now sufficiently ascertained, sure as I am of the righteousness of our cause and its consequent claim on the blessing of God, (for I would not show a faith inferior to that of the Pagan historian with his Facile evenit quod Dis cordi est,) it seems to me a suitable occasion to withdraw our minds a moment from the confusing din of battle to objects of peaceful and permanent interest.  Let us not neglect the monuments of preterite history because what shall be history is so diligently making under our eyes. Cras ingens iterabimus aequor; to-morrow will be time enough for that stormy sea; to-day let me engage the attention of your readers with the Runick inscription to whose fortunate discovery I have heretofore alluded.  Well may we say with the poet, Multa renascuntur quae jam cecidere.  And I would premise, that, although I can no longer resist the evidence of my own senses from the stone before me to the ante-Columbian discovery of this continent by the Northmen, gens inclytissima, as they are called in a Palermitan inscription, written fortunately in a less debatable character than that which I am about to decipher, yet I would by no means be understood as wishing to vilipend the merits of the great Genoese, whose name will never be forgotten so long as the inspiring strains of ‘Hail Columbia’ shall continue to be heard.  Though he must be stripped also of whatever praise may belong to the experiment of the egg, which I find proverbially attributed by Castilian authors to a certain Juanito or Jack, (perhaps an offshoot of our giant-killing mythus,) his name will still remain one of the most illustrious of modern times.  But the impartial historian owes a duty likewise to obscure merit, and my solicitude to render a tardy justice is perhaps quickened by my having known those who, had their own field of labour been less secluded, might have found a readier acceptance with the reading publick, I could give an example, but I forbear:  forsitan nostris ex ossibus oritur ultor.