Sence I've ben here, I've hired a chap to look about for me To git me a transplantable an' thrifty fem'ly-tree, An' he tells _me_ the Sawins is ez much o' Normal blood Ez Pickens an' the rest on 'em, an' older 'n Noah's flood. Your Normal schools wun't turn ye into Normals, for it's clear, Ef eddykatin' done the thing, they'd be some skurcer here. Pickenses, Boggses, Pettuses, Magoffins, Letchers, Polks,-- Where can you scare up names like them among your mudsill folks? Ther' 's nothin' to compare with 'em, you'd fin', ef you should glance, Among the tip-top femerlies in Englan', nor in France: I've hearn from 'sponsible men whose word wuz full ez good's their note, Men thet can run their face for drinks, an' keep a Sunday coat, Thet they wuz all on 'em come down, an' come down pooty fur, From folks thet, 'thout their crowns wuz on, ou'doors would n' never stir, Nor thet ther' warn't a Southun man but wut wuz _primy fashy_ O' the bes' blood in Europe, yis, an' Afriky an' Ashy: Sech bein' the case, is 't likely we should bend like cotton-wickin', Or set down under anythin' so low-lived ez a lickin'? More 'n this,--hain't we the literatoor an' science, tu, by gorry? Hain't we them intellectle twins, them giants, Simms an' Maury, Each with full twice the ushle brains, like nothin' thet I know, 'Thout 't wuz a double-headed calf I see once to a show? For all thet, I warn't jest at fast in favor o' seeedin'; I wuz for layin' low a spell to find out where't wuz leadin', For hevin' South-Carliny try her hand at seprit-nationin', She takin' resks an' findin' funds, an' we cooperationin',-- I mean a kin' o' hangin' roun' an' settin' on the fence, Till Prov'dunce pinted how to jump an' save the most expense; I reccollected thet 'ere mine o' lead to Shiraz Centre Thet bust up Jabez Pettibone, an' didn't want to ventur' 'Fore I wuz sartin wut come out ud pay for wut went in, For swappin' silver off for lead ain't the sure way to win; (An', fact, it _doos_ look now ez though--but folks must live an' larn-- We should git lead, an' more 'n we want, out o' the Old Consarn;) But when I see a man so wise an' honest ez Buchanan A-lettin' us hev all the forts an' all the arms an' cannon, Admittin' we wuz nat'lly right an' you wuz nat'lly wrong, Coz you wuz lab'rin'-folks an' we wuz wut they call _bong-tong_, An' coz there warn't no fight in ye more 'n in a mashed potater, While two o' _us_ can't skurcely meet but wut we fight by natur', An' th' ain't a bar-room here would pay for openin' on 't a night, Without it giv the priverlege o' bein' shot at sight, Which proves we're Natur's noblemen, with whom it don't surprise The British aristoxy should feel boun' to sympathize,-- Seein' all this, an' seein', tu, the thing wuz strikin' roots While Uncle Sam sot still in hopes thet some one 'd bring his boots,