"Taint your epyletts an' feathers

Make the thing a grain more right;
'Taint a follerin' your bell-wethers

Will excuse ye in His sight;
Ef you take a sword an' dror it,
An' go stick a feller thru,
Gav'nent aint to answer for it,

God 'll send the bill to you.

But although Hosea was able to resist the drum and fife of the recruiting sergeant, it appears that a "yung feller" of the same town, Birdofreedom Scawin by name, whose great ambition was to sport a "cocktale" on his hat, had been tempted to volunteer to Texas; and, feeling a good deal of disgust at the military profession, he writes home a letter which falls into Hosea Biglow's hands, and which Parson Wilbur says "oughter at once Bee printed." Mr. Scawin, it appears, finds real sojerin a very different thing from holiday reviewing, much more disagreeable, and he is disgusted accordingly:

This kind o' sogerin' aint a mite like our October

trainin';

A chap could clear right out from there ef't only looked like rainin';

An' th' Cunnles, tu, could kiver up their shappoes with bandanners,

An' send the insines skootin' to the bar-room with

their banners,

(Fear o' gittin on 'em spotted,) an' a feller could cry quarter,

Ef he fired away his ramrod arter tu much rum an' water.

It is very different, however, in Texas. Hard work, hard fighting, and no time for bandanners. Mr. Scawin also makes a very alarming discovery about the particular shape of the bayonet, which he thus comically alludes to:

It's glory, but in spite o' all my tryin to git callous, I feel a kind o' in a cart, a-ridin' to the gallus; But wen it comes to bein' killed,-I tell ye I felt

streaked,

one;

So it saves drink; and then, besides, a feller couldn't beg

A gretter blessin' than to hev one ollers sober peg; It's true a chap's in want o'two fer follerin a drum, But all the march I'm up to now is jest to Kingdom Come.

He finds he can also dispense with his lost eye, for the one that remains he finds quite big enough to see all that he will ever But the loss of his get by losing the other. fingers is more serious, as his powers of arithmetic are thereby taken away from him, and he can no longer cast up his calculations on his finger-ends. As for Texas, now conquered, it entirely disappointed Mr. Stawin. Instead of a country flowing with rum and water, as Canaan flowed with milk and honey; instead of gold being dug up in as great plenty as taters are in America during harvest-time; instead of precious stones and to be had for the gathering, "propaty there were horrid insects, abominable water, scarcity of food and many very hard knocks. Here is Mr. Scawin's graphic account of the climate,-its long droughts and then sudden deluges-and the reader will observe in the description the extremely clever picture of female perplexity in Prude's management of her tea-pot:

The clymit seems to me jest like a teapot made o' pewter

Our Prudence hed, thet wouldn't pour (all she could du) to suit her;

Fust place, the leaves 'ould choke the spout, so's not a drop 'ould dreen out:

Then Prude 'ould tip an' tip an' tip, till the holl kit bust clean out,

The kiver hinge-pin bein' lost, tea-leaves an' tea an' kiver

'Ould all come down kerswosh! ez though the dam broke in a river.

Jest so 'tis here; holl months there ain't a day o' rainy weather,

An' jest ez th' officers 'ould be a layin' heads together

Ez t'how they'd mix their drink at sech a miling. tary depot,

wuz sartin

They'd let the daylight into to me to pay me fer desartin!"

Poor Birdofreedom Scawin, however, now that he was fairly in for it, was obliged to fight with the rest, and next time we hear of him, he has lost a leg and an eye, got numerous ribs broken, and been stripped of several of his fingers. As for the loss of the leg, it was no great matter:

'ould pour ez though the lid wuz off the everlastin' teapot.

The consequence is, thet I shall take, wen I'm al

lowed to leave here,

One piece o' propaty along,-an' thet's the shakin' fever;

Its reggilar employment, though, an' thet aint thought to harm one,

Nor 'taint so tiresome ez it wuz with 't other leg an' arm on; An' it's a consolation, tu, although it does n't pay, To hev it sed you're some gret shakes in any kin o' way.

Consoling himself with this philosophy,, Mr. Scawin looks to the future, but doesn't see his way so clear. He finds he has got some "glory," which may, "arter all," turn out a good investment; but as for solid pudding, it has not yet come to hand. For (speaking of the common soldiers) he says: We get the licks,-wer'e just the grist thet's put into War's hoppers;

Leftenants is the lowest grade thet helps pick up the coppers.

It may suit folks thet go agin a body with a soul in't, An' aint contented with a hide without a bagnethole in it;

But glory is a kin' o' thing I shan't pursue no furder, Coz thet's the officers parquisite,-yourn's only jest the murder.

Mr. Scawin forth with thinks of making use of his wooden leg for the purpose of hopping into Congress. He will set up as a candidate for office, on the strength of his "milingtary" reputation, for-

There ain't no kin' o' quality in candidates, it's said, So useful ez a wooden leg,-except a wooden head. As for principles, he has none, but if any

cantankerous elector should ask for them, he will answer that he has a wooden leg got in the service of his country; and if harder pressed for something more definite, he will reply that he has had one eye put out. Then for a popular cry of the "Old Hickory" kind, Mr. Scawin thinks he will do:

Then you can call me "Timbertoes,"-that's wat the people likes;

Sutthin combinin' morril truth with phrazes sich as strikes ;

"Old Timbertoes" you see's a creed it's safe to be quite bold on,

There's nothin in't the other side can any ways git hold on;

It's a good tangible idee, a suthin' to embody, That valooable class o' men who look thru brandy

toddy;

Then there air other good hooraws to dror on ez you need 'em,

Sech ez the "One-eyed Slarterer," the " Bloody Birdofreedom;"

Them's what takes hold o' folks that think, ez well ez o' the masses,

An' makes you sartin o' the aid o' good men of all classes.

Take

There are other pieces in the Biglow Papers quite as good as these. The speech of Increase O'Phace, Esquire," at an extrumpery caucus meeting, is full of humor, mixed with shrewd common sense. the following little extract as an example:I'm willin a man should go tollable strong Agin wrong in the abstract, fer that kind o' wrong Is ollers unpop'lar an' never gits pitied, Because it's a crime no one ever committed. But he musn't be hard on partickler sins, Coz then he'll be kickin the people's own shins.

"The Pious Editor's Creed" is a terrible satire on Yankee politics-more severe than any thing that old country writers have yet derive the name of Editor not so much from said of them. Parson Wilbur is disposed to edo, to publish, as from edo, to eat, that being the peculiar profession to which the Ameri

can editor esteems himself called.

"He

blows up the flames of political discord for no other occasion than that he may thereby handily boil bis own pot. Nine hundred and ninety-nine out of the thousand labor to impress upon the people the great principles of Tweedledum, and nine hundred and ninetynine out of the other thousand preach with equal earnestness the gospel according to Tweedledee." Here are a few extracts from The Pious Editor's Creed:"

I du believe in Freedom's cause,
Ez fur ez Paris is;

I love to see her stick her claws
In them infarnal Pharisees;
It's wall enough agin a king,

To dror resoves and triggers,-
But libberty's a kind o' thing

That don't agree with niggers.

I du believe the people wunt
A tax on teas an' coffees,
That nothin' aint extravygunt,—
Purvidin I'm in office;
Fer I hev loved my country sence
My eye-teeth filled their sockets,
An' Uncle Sam I reverence,

Partic larly his pockets.

I du believe it's wise an' good
To sen' out furrin missions,
Thet is, on sartin onderstood
An' orthydox conditions ;-

I mean nine thousan' dolls. per ann.,
Nine thousan' more fer outfit,
An' me to recommend a man
The place 'ould jest about fit.

I du believe in special ways
O' prayin' an' convartin';
The bread comes back in many days,
An' buttered too fer sartin;
I mean in preyin' till one busts
On wut the party chooses,
An' in convartin public trusts
To very privit uses.

I du believe with all my soul
In the gret Press's freedom,
To pint the people to the goal,

An' in the traces lead 'em ;
Palsied the arm that forges yokes
At my fat contracts squintin',
An' withered be the nose that pokes
Into the gov'nment printin'!

I du believe in prayer an' praise
To him that has the grantin'
O' jobs,-in every thin' that pays,
But most of all in CANTIN';
This doth my cup with marcies fill,
This lays all thoughts of sin to rest,
I don't believe in princerple,

But O, I DU in interest.

I du believe in bein' this

Or that, ez it may happen:
One way or t'other hendiest is
To ketch the people nappin';
It aint by principles nor men

My president course is steadied,—
I scent which pays the best, an' then
Go into it bald headed.

I du believe wutever trash

'll keep the people in blindness,-—
Thet we the Mexicans can thrash
Right inter brotherly kindness;

Thet bombshells, grape, an' powder 'n ball
Air good-will's strongest magnets,
Thet peace, to make it stick at all,

MUST BE DRUV IN WITH BAGNETS.

In short, I firmly du believe
In Humbug generally,

Fer it's a thing that I perceive

To hev a solid vally;
This heth my faithful shepherd ben,
In pastures sweet heth led me,
An' this 'll keep the people green

To feed ez they hev fed me.

Hosea Biglow puts some questions to a popular candidate, who sends an answer of a very comical description. The candidate is of the class "artful dodger". -one that won't give a pledge. Yet he pretends to be very straight forward, though all the while he is, as the Yankee say, "riding on the fence." Here are his views anent the Mexican war, which some of our peace-men in the House of Commons may imitate to advantage next time they appear before

their British constituents:

Ez for the war, I go agin it,-
I mean to say I kind o' du,—
That is, I mean that, bein' in it,

The best way is to fight it thru ;
Not but wut abstract war is horrid,
I sign to thet with all my heart,—
But civilization doos git forrid

SOMETIMES UPON A POWDER-CART.

We cannot, however, proceed further with quotations from these clever and highly-humorous jeux d'esprit. But we cannot refrain from giving a short piece by Mr. Lowell in an altogether different vein-one which, perhaps, he thinks the lightest of, having thrown it off in a careless mood; and yet it is the most characteristic little poem which he has yet written. It is so thoroughly Americanso native-so true. Why will not Americans write after nature, instead of after Wordsworth and Tennyson? Let Mr. Lowell write more in the following strain--commonplace and vulgar as it may seem, yet thoroughly true to nature--and he will do more to create a school of popular American poetry, than by writing no end of "Rosalines" and "Legends of Brittany." The piece which we refer to is unfinished. It is entitled The Courtin," Time-twilight. Ezekiel goes a courting Huldy, who is sitting in the kitchen all alone, peeling apples by the firelight. The piece has the finish of a Dutch picture :

Zekle crep' up, quite unbeknown,
An' peeked in thru the winder,
An' there sot Huldy all alone,
'ith no one nigh to hender.

Agin' the chimbly crooknecks hung,
An' in amongst 'em rusted,

The old queen's arm thet gran'ther Young
Fetched back from Concord busted.

The wannut logs shot sparkles out
Towards the pootiest, bless her!
An' leetle fires danced all about
The chiny on the dresser.

The very room, coz she wuz in,
Looked warm from floor to ceilin';
An' she looked full ez rosy agin

Ez th' apples she wuz peelin'.
She heerd a foot, an' know'd it, tu,

A-raspin' on the scraper,-
All ways to once her feelins flew,
Like sparks in burnt-up paper.
He kin' o' l'itered on the mat

Some doutfle o' the seekle;
His heart kep' goin' pitypat,
But hern went pity Zeekle.