you but sufferin, around you but poverty, afore you, but slavery and death.  What’s the cause of this unheerd of awful state of things, ay, what’s the cause?  Why Judges, and Banks, and Lawyers, and great folks, have swallered all the money.  They’ve got you down, and they’ll keep you down to all etarnity, you and your posteriors arter you.  Rise up like men, arouse yourselves like freemen, and elect me to the Legislatur, and I’ll lead on the small but patriotic band, I’ll put the big wigs thro’ their facins, I’ll make ’em shake in their shoes, I’ll knock off your chains and make you free.”  Well, the goneys fall tu and elect him, and he desarts right away, with balls, rifle, powder horn and all.  He promised too much.

Then comes a real good man, and an everlastin fine preacher, a most a special spiritual man, renounces the world, the flesh, and the devil, preaches and prays day and night, so kind to the poor, and so humble, he has no more pride than a babe, and so short-handed he’s no butter to his bread—­all self denial, mortifyin the flesh.  Well, as soon as he can work it, he marries the richest gall in all his flock, and then his bread is buttered on both sides.  He promised too much.

Then comes a Doctor, and a prime article he is too, I’ve got, says he, a screw augur emetic and hot crop, and if I cant cure all sorts o’ things in natur my name aint quack.  Well he turns stomach and pocket, both inside out, and leaves poor Blue Nose—­a dead man.  He promised too much.

Then comes a Lawyer, an honest lawyer too, a real wonder under the sun, as straight as a shingle in all his dealins.  He’s so honest he cant bear to hear tell of other lawyers, he writes agin ’em, raves agin ’em, votes agin ’em, they are all rogues but him.  He’s jist the man to take a case in hand, cause he will see justice done.  Well, he wins his case, and fobs all for costs, cause he’s sworn to see justice done to—­himself.  He promised too much.

Then comes a Yankee Clockmaker, (and here Mr. Slick looked up and smiled,) with his “Soft Sawder,” and “Human Natur,” and he sells clocks warranted to run from July to Etarnity, stoppages included, and I must say they do run as long as—­as long as wooden clocks commonly do, that’s a fact.  But I’ll shew you presently how I put the leak into ’em, for here’s a feller a little bit ahead on us, whose flint I’ve made up my mind to fix this while past.  Here we were nearly thrown out of the waggon, by the breaking down of one of those small wooden bridges, which prove so annoying and so dangerous to travellers.  Did you hear that are snap? said he, well as sure as fate, I’ll break my clocks over them etarnal log bridges, if Old Clay clips over them arter that fashion.  Them are poles are plaguy treacherous, they are jist like old Marm Patience Doesgood’s teeth, that keeps the great United Independent Democratic Hotel,