I'm not a politician and my other habits air good.  I've no enemys to reward, nor friends to sponge.  But I'm a Union man.  I luv the Union--it is a Big thing--and it makes my hart bleed to see a lot of ornery peple a-movin heaven--no, not heaven, but the other place--and earth, to bust it up.  Toe much good blud was spilt in courtin and marryin that hily respectable female the Goddess of Liberty, to git a divorce from her now.  My own State of Injianny is celebrated for unhitchin marrid peple with neatness and dispatch, but you can't get a divorce from the Goddess up there.  Not by no means.  The old gal has behaved herself too well to cast her off now.  I'm sorry the picters don't give her no shoes or stockins, but the band of stars upon her hed must continner to shine undimd, forever.  I'm for the Union as she air, and withered be the arm of every ornery cuss who attempts to bust her up.  That's me. I hav sed!  [It was a very sweaty day, and at this pint of the orashun a man fell down with sunstroke.  I told the awjince that considerin the large number of putty gals present I was more afraid of a DAWTER STROKE.  This was impromptoo, and seemed to amoose them very much.] Feller Citizens--I hain't got time to notis the growth of Ameriky frum the time when the Mayflowers cum over in the Pilgrim and brawt Plymouth Rock with them, but every skool boy nose our kareer has been tremenjis.  You will excuse me if I don't prase the erly settlers of the Kolonies.  Peple which hung idiotic old wimin for witches, burnt holes in Quakers' tongues and consined their feller critters to the tredmill and pillery on the slitest provocashun may hav bin very nice folks in their way, but I must confess I don't admire their stile, and will pass them by.  I spose they ment well, and so, in the novel and techin langwidge of the nusepapers, "peas to their ashis."  Thare was no diskount, however, on them brave men who fit, bled and died in the American Revolushun.  We needn't be afraid of setting 'em up two steep.  Like my show, they will stand any amount of prase.  G. Washington was abowt the best man this world ever sot eyes on.  He was a clear-heded, warm-harted, and stiddy goin man.  He never slopt over! The prevailin weakness of most public men is to SLOP OVER!  [Put them words in large letters--A. W.]  They git filled up and slop.  They Rush Things.  They travel too much on the high presher principle.  They git on to the fust poplar hobbyhoss whitch trots along, not carin a sent whether the beest is even goin, clear sited and sound or spavined, blind and bawky.  Of course they git throwed eventooally, if not sooner.  When they see the multitood goin it blind they go Pel Mel with it, instid of exerting theirselves to set it right.  They can't see that the crowd which is now bearin them triumfantly on its shoulders will soon diskiver its error and cast them into the hoss pond of Oblivyun, without the slitest hesitashun.