My frends, I'm dun.  I tear myself away from you with tears in my eyes & a pleasant oder of Onyins abowt my close.  In the langwidge of Mister Catterline to the Rummuns, I go, but perhaps I shall cum back agin.  Adoo, people of Weathersfield. Be virtoous & you'll be happy! ____________________ THE WAR FEVER IN BALDINSVILLE. As soon as I'd recooperated my physikil system, I went over into the village.  The peasantry was glad to see me.  The skoolmaster sed it was cheerin to see that gigantic intelleck among 'em onct more.  That's what he called me.  I like the skoolmaster, and allers send him tobacker when I'm off on a travelin campane.  Besides, he is a very sensible man.  Such men must be encouraged. They don't git news very fast in Baldinsville, as nothin but a plank road runs in there twice a week, and that's very much out of repair.  So my nabers wasn't much posted up in regard to the wars.  'Squire Baxter sed he'd voted the dimicratic ticket for goin on forty year, and the war was a dam black republican lie.  Jo. Stackpole, who kills hogs for the Squire, and has got a powerful muscle into his arms, sed he'd bet 5 dollars he could lick the Crisis in a fair stand-up fight, if he wouldn't draw a knife on him.  So it went--sum was for war, and sum was for peace.  The skoolmaster, however, sed the Slave Oligarky must cower at the feet of the North ere a year had flowed by, or pass over his dead corpse.  "Esto perpetua!" he added! "And sine qua non also!" sed I, sternly, wishing to make a impression onto the villagers. "Requiescat in pace!" sed the skoolmaster, "Too troo, too troo!" I anserd, "it's a scanderlus fact!" The newspapers got along at last, chock full of war, and the patriotic fever fairly bust out in Baldinsville.  'Squire Baxter sed he didn't b'lieve in Coercion, not one of 'em, and could prove by a file of "Eagles of Liberty" in his garrit, that it was all a Whig lie, got up to raise the price of whisky and destroy our other liberties.  But the old 'Squire got putty riley, when he heard how the rebels was cuttin up, and he sed he reckoned he should skour up his old muskit and do a little square fitin for the Old Flag, which had allers bin on the ticket he'd voted, and he was too old to Bolt now.  The 'Squire is all right at heart, but it takes longer for him to fill his venerable Biler with steam than it used to when he was young and frisky.  As I previously informed you, I am Captin of the Baldinsville Company.  I riz gradooally but majestically from drummer's Secretary to my present position. But I found the ranks wasn't full by no means, and commenced for to recroot.  Havin notist a gineral desire on the part of young men who are into the crisis to wear eppylits, I detarmined to have my company composed excloosviely of offissers, everybody to rank as Brigadeer-Ginral.  The follerin was among the varis questions which I put to recroots:   Do you know a masked battery from a hunk of gingerbread?