I shall always blame my parients for not eddycatin' me. Had I been liberally eddycated I could, with my brilliant native talents, have bin a big thief--I b'leeve they call 'em defaulters. Instead of confinin' myself to priggin' clothes, watches, spoons, and sich like, I could have plundered princely sums--thousands and hundreds of thousands of dollars--and that old humbug, the Law, wouldn't have harmed a hair of my head! For, you see, I should be smart enough to get elected State Treasurer, or have something to do with Banks or Railroads, and perhaps a little of both. Then, you see, I could ride in my carriage, live in a big house with a free stun frunt, drive a fast team, and drink as much gin and sugar as I wanted. A inwestigation might be made, and some of the noospapers might come down on me heavy, but what the d----l would I care about that, havin' previously taken precious good care of the stolen money? Besides, my "party" would swear stout that I was as innersunt as the new-born babe, and a great many people would wink very pleasant, and say, "Well, Griggins understands what HE'S 'bout, HE does.!" But havin' no eddycation, I'm only a low thief--a stealer of watches and spoons and sich--a low wretch, anyhow--and the Law puts me through without mercy. It's all right, I spose, and yet I sometimes think it's wery hard to be shut up here, a wearin' checkered clothes, a livin' on cold vittles, a sleepin' on iron beds, a lookin' out upon the world through iron muskeeter bars, and poundin' stun like a galley slave, day after day, week after week, and year after year, while my brother thieves (for to speak candid, there's no difference between a thief and a defaulter, except that the latter is forty times wuss), who have stolen thousands of dollars to my one cent, are walkin' out there in the bright sunshine--dressed up to kill, new clothes upon their backs and piles of gold in their pockets! But the Law don't tech 'em. They are too big game for the Law to shoot at. It's as much as the Law can do to take care of us ignorant thieves. Who said there was no difference 'tween tweedledum and tweedledee? He lied in his throat, like a villain as he was! I tell ye there's a tremendous difference. Oh that I had been liberally eddycated! Jim Griggins. Sing--Sing 1860. 7.13. THE NEGRO QUESTION. I was sitting in the bar, quietly smokin a frugal pipe, when two middle-aged and stern-looking females and a young and pretty female suddenly entered the room. They were accompanied by two umberellers and a negro gentleman. "Do you feel for the down-trodden?" said one of the females, a thin-faced and sharp-voiced person in green spectacles. "Do I feel for it?" ansered the lan'lord, in a puzzled voice--" do I feel for it?" "Yes; for the oppressed, the benighted?" "Inasmuch as to which?" said the lan'lord. "You see this man?" said the female, pintin her umbreller at the negro gentleman.