The banners, devices and pictures were innumerable, while huge wagons were mounted with log cabins, cider barrels, canoes, miniature ships, and raccoons. But the most distinguishing feature of the campaign was its music. The spirit of song was everywhere, and made the whole land vocal. The campaign was set to music, and the song seriously threatened to drown the stump speech. Whiggery was translated into a tune, and poured itself forth in doggerel rhymes which seemed to be born of the hour, and exactly suited to the crisis. I give a few specimens, partly from memory, and partly from "The Harrison and Log Cabin Song Book" of 1840, a copy of which is before me: What has caused the great commotion, motion, motion, Our country through? It is the ball a-rolling on, on, For Tippecanoe and Tyler too--Tippecanoe and Tyler too; And with them we'll beat little Van, Van, Van; Van is a used up man; And with them we'll beat little Van. Like the rushing of mighty waters, waters, waters, On it will go, And in its course will clear the way For Tippecanoe and Tyler too--Tippecanoe and Tyler too; And with them we'll beat little Van, Van, Van; Van is a used up man; And with them we'll beat little Van. The famous "ball" alluded to in this song originated with the Whigs of Allegheny County, Pennsylvania, and was sent by them to a Mass Convention held at Baltimore. It was ten or twelve feet in diameter, and upon the ends of it, on blue ground, were stars corresponding in number with the States of the Union. On its wide spaces of red and white stripes various inscriptions were made, including the following, which belongs to the poetry and music of the campaign: With heart and soul This ball we roll; May times improve As on we move. This Democratic ball Set rolling first by Benton, Is on another track From that it first was sent on. Farewell, dear Van, You're not our man; To guide the ship, We'll try old Tip. The following, sung to the tune of "Old Rosin the Bow," was quite as popular: Come ye who, whatever betide her, To Freedom have sworn to be true, Prime up with a cup of hard cider, And drink to old Tippecanoe. On top I've a cask of as good, sir, As man from the tap ever drew; No poison to cut up your blood, sir, But liquor as pure as the dew. Parched corn men can't stand it much longer, Enough is as much as we'll bear; With Tip at our head, in October, We'll tumble Van out of the chair. Then ho! for March fourth, forty-one, boys, We'll shout till the heavens' arched blue Shall echo hard cider and fun, boys, Drink, drink, to old Tippecanoe. The following kindred verses will be familiar to everybody who remembers the year 1840: Ye jolly young lads of Ohio, And all ye sick Vanocrats, too, Come out from among the foul party, And vote for old Tippecanoe.