"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' pr'miscoous Ned," Sez John O. Calhoun, sez he;-- "Yes, the North," sez Colquitt, "Ef we Southeners 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 Not to welcome with proud hallylugers the ery Wen our eagle kicks yourn from the naytional nest," Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he;-- "O," sez Westcott o' Florida, "Wut treason is horrider Then our priv'leges tryin' to proon?" sez he. "It's 'coz they're so happy, thet, wen crazy sarpints Stick their nose in our bizness, we git so darned riled; We think it's our dooty to give pooty sharp hints, Thet the last crumb of Edin on airth shan't be spiled," Sez John C. Calhoun, sez he;-- "Ah," sez Dixon H. Lewis, "It perfectly true is Thet slavery 's airth's grettest boon," sez he. [It was said of old time, that riches have wings; and, though this be not applicable in a literal strictness to the wealth of our patriarchal brethren of the South, yet it is clear that their possessions have legs, and an unaccountable propensity for using them in a northerly direction. I marvel that the grand jury of Washington did not find a true bill against the North Star for aiding and abetting Drayton and Sayres. It would have been quite of a piece with the intelligence displayed by the South on other questions connected with slavery. I think that no ship of state was ever freighted with a more veritable Jonah than this same domestic institution of ours. Mephistopheles himself could not feign so bitterly, so satirically sad a sight as this of three millions of human beings crushed beyond help or hope by this one mighty argument,--_Our fathers knew no better!_ Nevertheless, it is the unavoidable destiny of Jonahs to be cast overboard sooner or later. Or shall we try the experiment of hiding our Jonah in a safe place, that none may lay hands on him to make jetsam of him? Let us, then, with equal forethought and wisdom, lash ourselves to the anchor, and await, in pious confidence, the certain result. Perhaps our suspicious passenger is no Jonah after all, being black. For it is well known that a superintending Providence made a kind of sandwich of Ham and his