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Hang my idle armor up on the wall,
Let it be the spider's banquet-hall;
He must be fenced with stronger mail
Who would seek and find the Holy Grail."
The castle gate stands open now,

And the wanderer is welcome to the hall
As the hang-bird is to the elm-tree bough;
No longer scowl the turrets tall.

The summer's long siege at last is o'er:
When the first poor outcast went in at the door,
She entered with him in disguise,

And mastered the fortress by surprise;

There is no spot she loves so well on ground;
She lingers and smiles there the whole year round;
The meanest serf on Sir Launfal's land

Has hall and bower at his command;

And there's no poor man in the North Countree
But is lord of the earldom as much as he.

THE PIOUS EDITOR'S CREED.

I DU believe in Freedom's cause
Ez fur away ez Paris is;

I love to see her stick her claws
In them infarnal Pharisees;
It's wal enough agin a king
To dror resolves an' triggers,-
But libbaty's a kind o' thing
Thet don't agree with niggers.

I du believe the people want
A tax on teas an' coffees,
Thet 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 in any plan

O' levyin' the taxes,

Ez long ez, like a lumberman,
I git jest wut I axes:

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Because it kind o' rouses

The folks to vote, an' keeps us in
Our quiet customhouses.

I du believe it's wise an' good
To sen' out furrin missions,
Thet is, on sartin understood
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, tu, 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 hard coin the stuff
Fer 'lectioneers to spout on;
The people's ollers soft enough

To make hard money out on;
Dear Uncle Sam pervides fer his,

An' gives a good-sized junk to all,I don't care how hard money is,

Ez long ez mine's paid punctooal.

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 thet forges yokes
At my fat contracts squintin',
An' withered be the nose thet pokes
Inter the gov'ment printin'!

I du believe thet I should give
Wut's his'n unto Cæsar,
Fer it's by him I move an' live,

Frum him my bread an' cheese air;

I du believe thet all o' me

Doth bear his souperscription,

Will, conscience, honor, honesty,
An' things o' thet description.
I du believe in prayer an' praise
To him thet hez the grantin'
O' jobs, — in every thin' thet pays,

But most of all in CANTIN';

This doth my cup with marcies fill,

This lays all thought o' sin to rest, I don't believe in princerple,

But, O, I du in interest.

I du believe in bein' this

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

My preudunt course is steadied,-
I scent wich pays the best, an' then
Go into it baldheaded.

I du believe thet holdin' slaves
Comes nat'ral tu a Presidunt,
Let 'lone the rowdedow it saves
To hev a wal-broke precedunt;
Fer any office, small or gret,

I couldn't ax with no face,
Without I'd been, thru dry an' wet,
Th' unrizzest kind o' doughface.

I du believe wutever trash

'll keep the people in blindness,Thet we the Mexicuns can thrash

Right into 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 thet I perceive

To hev a solid vally;

This heth my faithful shepherd ben,

In pasturs sweet heth led me,

An' this 'll keep the people green

To feed ez they hev fed me.

THE DEBATE IN THE SENNIT.

"HERE we stan' on the Constitution, by thunder!
It's a fact o' wich ther's bushils o' proofs;
Fer how could we trample on 't so, I wonder,
Ef 't worn't thet it's ollers under our hoofs?"
Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he;

"Human rights haint no more

Right to come on this floor,

No more'n the man in the moon," sez he.

"The North haint no kind o' bisness with nothin',
An' you've no idee how much bother it saves;
We aint none riled by their frettin' an' frothin',
We're used to layin' the string on our slaves,"
Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he;

Sez Mister Foote,

"I should like to shoot

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The holl gang, by the gret horn spoon!" sez he. "Freedom's Keystone is Slavery, thet ther's no doubt on, It's sutthin' thet's wha' d' ye call it? — divine, An' the slaves that we ollers make the most out on Air them north o' Mason an' Dixon's line," Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he;

"Fer all thet," sez Mangum,

""Twould be better to hang 'em,

An' so git red on 'em soon," sez he.

"The mass ough' to labor an' we lay on soffies,

Thet's the reason I want to spread Freedom's aree;

It puts all the cunninest on us in office,

An' reelises our Maker's orig❜nal idee,"

Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he;-
"Thet's ez plain," sez Cass,

"Ez thet some one's an ass,

It's ez clear ez the sun is at noon," sez he.

"Now don't go to say I'm the friend of oppression,

But keep all your spare breath fer coolin' your broth, Fer I ollers hev strove (at least thet's my impression) To make cussed free with the rights o' the North," Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he;

"Yes," sez Davis o' Miss.,

"The perfection o' bliss

Is in skinnin' thet same old coon," sez he.

"Slavery's a thing that depends on complexion,

It's God's law thet fetters on black skins don't chafe; Ef brains wuz to settle it (horrid reflection!)

Wich of our onnable body'd be safe?"

Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he;

Sez Mister Hannegan,

Afore he began agin,

"Thet exception is quite oppertoon," sez he.

"Gen'nle Cass, Sir, you needn't be twitchin' your collar,
Your merit's quite clear by the dut on your knees,
At the North we don't make no distinctions o' color;
You can all take a lick at our shoes wen you please,"
Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he;

Sez Mister Jarnagin,

"They wunt hev to larn again,

They all on 'em know the old toon," sez he.

"The slavery question aint no ways bewilderin'.

North an' South hev one int'rest, it's plain to a glance; No'thern men, like us patriarchs, don't sell their childrin, But they du sell themselves, ef they git a good chance," Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he;

Sez Atherton here,

"This is gittin' severe,

I wish I could dive like a loon," sez he.

"It'll break up the Union, this talk about freedom,

An' your fact'ry gals (soon ez we split) 'll make head,
An' gittin' some Miss chief or other to lead 'em,
'll go to work raisin' promiscoous Ned,"
Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he;

"Yes, the North," sez Colquitt,
"Ef we Southerners all quit,

Would go down like a busted balloon," sez he.

"Jest look wut is doin', wut annyky's brewin' In the beautiful clime o' the olive an' vine,

All the wise aristoxy is tumblin' to ruin,

An' the sankylots drorin' an' drinkin' their wine,"
Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he;

"Yes," sez Johnson, "in France

They're beginnin' to dance

Beelzebub's own rigadoon," sez he.

"The South's safe enough, it don't feel a mite skeery, Our slaves in their darkness an' dut air tu blest

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