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I felt, ez sister Patience sez, a leetle mite hister

icky. I felt, I swon, ez though it wuz a dreffle kind o’

privilege Atrampin' round thru Boston streets among the

gutter's drivelage; I act'lly thought it wuz a treat to hear a little

drummin', An' it did bonyfidy seem millanyum wuz acomin' Wen all on us got suits (darned like them wore in

the state prison) An' every feller felt ez though all Mexico wuz

hisn.1

This 'ere's about the meanest place a skunk could

wal diskiver (Saltillo's Mexican, I b'lieve, fer wut we call Salt

river); The sort o' trash a feller gits to eat doos beat all

nater, I'd give a year's pay fer a smell o' one good blue

nose tater; The country here thet Mister Bolles declared to be

so charmin' Throughout is swarmin' with the most alarmin' He talked about delishis froots, but then it wuz a

kind o varmin.

1 it must be aloud that thare 's a streak of nater in lovin' sho, but it sartinly is 1 of the curusest things in nater to see a rispecktable dri goods dealer (deekon off a chutch maybe) a riggin' himself out in the Weigh they du and struttin' round in the Reign aspilin' his trowsis and makin' wet goods of himself. Ef any thin's foolisher and moor dicklus than militerry gloary it is milishy gloary. - H. B.

wopper all, The holl on ’t’s mud an' prickly pears, with here

an' there a chapparal; You see a feller peekin' out, an', fust you know, a

lariat Is round

your
throat an' you a copse,

'fore

you can say, “ Wut air ye at?”i You never see sech darned gret bugs (it may not

be irrelevant To say I've seen a scarabæus pilularius 2 big ez a

year old elephant), The rigiment come up one day in time to stop a

red bug From runnin' off with Cunnle Wright, — 't wuz

jest a common cimex lectularius.

One night I started up on eend an' thought I wuz

to hum agin, I heern a horn, thinks I it's Sol the fisherman hez

come agin, His bellowses is sound enough, - ez I'm a livin'

creeter, I felt a thing go thru my leg, — 't wuz nothin'

more 'n a skeeter! Then there's the yaller fever, tu, they call it here (Come, thet wun't du, you landcrab there, I tell ye

el vomito, —

1 these fellers are verry proppilly called Rank Heroes, and the more tha kill the ranker and more Herowick tha bekum. - H. B.

2 it wuz" tumblebug" as he Writ it, but the parson put the Latten instid. i sed tother maid better meeter, but he said tha was eddykated peepl to Boston and tha would n't stan' it no how. idnow as tha wood and idnow as tha wood. - H. B.

to le' go my toe! My gracious ! it's a scorpion thet 's took a shine

to play with 't, I darsn't skeer the tarnal thing fer fear he'd run

away with 't.) Afore I come away from hum I hed a strong per

suasion Thet Mexicans worn't human beans, 1 - an ourang

outang nation, A sort o' folks a chap could kill an’ never dream

on't arter, No more 'n a feller 'd dream o' pigs thet he hed

hed to slarter ; I'd an idee thet they were built arter the darkie

fashion all, An' kickin' colored folks about, you know, 's a

kind o' national; But wen I jined I worn't so wise ez thet air queen

o'Sheby, Fer, come to look at 'em, they aint much diff'rent

from wut we be, An' here we air ascrougin' 'em out o'thir own do

minions, Ashelterin' 'em, ez Caleb sez, under our eagle's

pinions, Wich means to take a feller up jest by the slack

o' 's trowsis An' walk him Spanish clean right out o' all his Wal, it doos seem a curus way, but then hooraw

homes an' houses;

i he means human beins, that's wat he means. i spose he kinder thought tha wuz human beans ware the Xisle Poles comes from.-H. B.

fer Jackson ! It must be right, fer Caleb sez it's reg'lar Anglo

saxon.

The Mex'cans don't fight fair, they say, they piz'n

all the water, An' du amazin' lots o’things thet is n't wut they

ough' to; Bein' they haint no lead, they make their bullets

out o' copper An' shoot the darned things at us, tu, wich Caleb

sez aint proper; He sez they'd ough' to stan' right up an' let us

pop 'em fairly (Guess wen he ketches 'em at thet he 'll hev to git

up airly), Thet our nation's bigger ’n theirn an' so its rights

air bigger, An' thet it's all to make 'em free thet we air pull

in' trigger, Thet Anglo Saxondom's idee's abreakin' 'em to

pieces, An' thet idee 's thet every man doos jest wut he

damn pleases ; Ef I don't make his meanin' clear, perhaps in some

respex I can, I know thet “ every man" don't mean a nigger or

a Mexican; An' there's another thing I know, an' thet is, ef

these creeturs, Thet stick an Anglosaxon mask onto State-prison

feeturs,

Should come to Jaalam Centre fer to argify an'

spout on't, The gals 'ould count the silver spoons the minnit

they cleared out on’t.

This goin' ware glory waits ye haint one agreeable

feetur, An' ef it worn't fer wakin' snakes, I'd home agin

short meter; O, would n't I be off, quick time, ef’t worn't thet

I wuz sartin They 'd let the daylight into me to pay me fer de

sartin ! I don't approve o' tellin' tales, but jest to you I

may state

Our ossifers aint wut they wuz afore they left the

Bay-state; Then it wuz “Mister Sawin, sir, you ’re middlin'

well now, be ye? Step up an' take a nipper, sir; I'm dreffle glad to

see ye”; But now it 's “Ware 's my eppylet? here, Sawin,

step an' fetch it! An' mind your eye, be thund'rin' spry, or, damn

ye, you shall ketch it!” Wal, ez the Doctor sez, some pork will bile so, but

by mighty, Ef I hed some on 'em to hum, I'd give 'em linkum

vity, I'd play the rogue's march on their hides an' other

music follerin' But I must close my letter here, fer one on 'em 's

ahollerin',

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