Two years ago comin this May, I had a 'tack of fever-'n-ager, and by the advice of Miss Peasley who continues single and is correspondinly unhappy in the same ratios I consulted a Spiritul mejum--a writin' mejum.  I got a letter from a cel'brated Injin chief, who writ me, accordin to the mejum, that he'd been ded two hundred and seventeen (217) years, and liked it.  He then said, let the Pale face drink sum yarb tea.  I drinkt it, and it really helpt me.  I've writ to this talented savige this time thro' the same mejum, but as yet I hain't got any answer.  Perhaps he's in a spear where they haint' got any postage stamps. But thanks to careful nussin, I'm improvin rapid. The Town Hall was jam-full of peple, mostly Irish citizens, and the enthusiasm was immense.  They cheer'd everybody and everything.  They cheer'd me. "Hurroo for Ward!  Hurroo!" They was all good nabers of mine, and I ansered in a pleasant voice, "All right, boys, all right.  Mavoorneen, och hone, aroon, Cooshla macree!" These Irish remarks bein' received with great applaus, I added, "Mushler! mushler!" "Good! good!" cried Captain Spingler, who desires the Irish vote for country clerk; "that's fus' rate." "You see what I'm drivin at, don't you, Cap?" I said. "Certainly." "Well," I ansered, "I'm very glad you do, becaus I don't." This made the Finians larf, and they said, "Walk up onto the speaker's platform sir." The speeches was red hot agin England, and hir iron heel, and it was resolved to free Ireland at onct.  But it was much desirable before freein her that a large quantity of funds should be raised.  And, like the gen'rous souls as they was, funs was lib'rally contribooted.  Then arose a excitin discussion as to which head center they should send 'em to--O'Mahony or McRoberts.  There was grate excitement over this, but it was finally resolved to send half to one and half to 'tother. Then Mr. Finnigan rose and said, "We have here to-night sum citizens of American birth, whom we should be glad to hear.  It would fill our harts with speechless joy to hear from a man whose name towers high in the zoological and wax-figger world--from whose pearly lips-- Says I, "Go slow, Finny, go slow." "We wish to hear," continued Mr. Finnigan, moderatin his stile summut, "from our townsman, Mr. Ward." I beg'd to be declined, but it wan't no use.  I rose amid a perfeck uproar of applause. I said we had convened there in a meetin, as I understood it, or rather in a body, as it were, in reference to Ireland.  If I knew my own hart, every one of us there, both grate and small had an impulse flowin in his boosum, "and consequentially," I added, we "will stick to it similar and in accordance therewith, as long as a spark of manhood, or the peple at large.  That's the kind of man I be!"