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VOL. 11.
[From the Metropolitan Record.]
. The Puritan Excoriated.
friend “Noah Kount” has been exer
cising his muse, with good effect, on a
subject that cannot be too sharply han
dled —the meddling, mischief making,
sharp-nosed, lank-faced, inquisitive New
Englander, to whom the country can
trace all the political, and many of the
social ills from which it suffers. Per
haps the time is not far off when Uncle
Sam’s whole family will turn upon this
social and political curse of the country
and excoriate him with vehemence equal
to that exhibited by the old fellow him
self in the Hiawathian measure framed
for him by our contributor :
THE SONG OF U%CLE SAMUEL.
Ye who love authentic his’try,
Love the truth that shames the devil,
Lovo the records of your great men,
Written not for greed of office.
Written not for golden presents,
Written not for lands or houses,
Nor for sporting dogs, nor horses
That can trot a mile a minute ;
Nor for bunkum, nor for dead-heads
Who can sail about in steamers,
Who can ride in railroad coaches,
Who can eat and drink in hotels,
And pay not a dime for passage,
Not a red for clarn-bake feastings—
If you ask me, Why this prelude ?
Why this tedious introduction ?
I will answer, I will tell you :
'Tis because I want an audience,
Not like those ot whom I have spoken,
Kut ot honest men and women
Who have stolen no man’s thunder,
Who’ll not charge nothing for the tjme
spent,
While they listen with attention
To the veritable story,
To the song cf Uncle Samuel.
Uncle Sam sat on his door step,
Prematurely old and feeble,
Toothless, sightless, helpless, friendless,
Thinly clad in rags and tatters,
Covered o’er, like Job, with ulcers,
Patched his shin with greenback plasters,
Bent to earth with care and sorrow,
Broken down with deaths and troubles,
And his Constitution broken ;
Sat he gazing toward the sunset,
Gazing with His sightless eyeballs,
Masticating bitter fancies,
While a quid he chewed, and squirted
Right and left the juice about him ;
When he coughed, ’twas like the heaving
Ot a broken-winded bellows,
Coughed so hard that doors and windows
Clapped and rattled, and the rafters
Shook like pine trees in the north wind.
Men and women stood before him,
Thousands from the West and Northland,
From the East where people daily
Fry the sun up with a hand-spike.
Stretching foi th his withered fingers,
Groping blindly in the blackness,
Seized he one who stood anear him,
Drew him close and felt him over,
•hist as Isaac felt of Jacob ;
• Fell his hair, his face and fingers,
Felt his hat and coat and trowsers,
Smell’ll him o’er and talked as thus wise,
“By the smell this must be Nathan,
By the scent ut fish and onions,
By his scraggy beard and whiskers,
By his lantern jaws I know him,
By his nose attenuated,
By his thin lips stuck together,
Bite two straps of India-rubber*
by his long loose linen duster,
-Made to hide his calveless sheep-shanks :
Llammed his pockets are with notions'
rammed with tracts and patent fly
traps, J
a le,it1 e,it Pi! is iat cure P° r certain
the ills that iu creation
i ' j an and womankind are heirs to,”
Goasod a while then Uncle Samuel,
1,1 a heavy fit ol coughing
U aaie »pon him, and his face grew
<'d and swollen and his eyeballs
, tream’d down scalding rheumus fuchor
, liUnmn S o’er the withered furrows
Os his corrugated cheek-bones.
When at length the tit was over,
When again he breathed freely,
Seized he Nathan by the collar,
Shook him till his dry boues rattled
Like a gourd upon a bean pole
Shaken by the winds of winter :
And again he shook him, shook him !
Till his strength was quite exhausted;
Then he made wry faces at him,
While he scolded him in this way;
“Nathan! cause of all my troubles,
All my debts and cares and sorrows,
All the pains and aches and conghings
That now rack my bones and vitals.
Come from your infernal meddling
Prying, busybody meddling;
If your neighbor’s hens but cackle,
You must find out what’s the matter,
And charge cent per cent commission
For attending to the bus’ness.
In my house you’ve sown dissension,
Set my children ’gainst each other,
So that you might fill your pockets
Full of plunder while they quarrelled;
You it was who brought the nigger
From his native wilds in Afric,
Bought him cheap for rum and ’lasses,
Sold him South to brother Dixie,
Sold him off as goods and chattels,
Swopp’d him off lor cash or cotton,
And then whined and howled and ranted,
Preach’d and lectured, pray’d and canted,
’Gainst the keeping him in bondage,
Your co-equal man and brother !”
Once again he paused, exhausted,
While a thousand men and women
Lifting up their voices, answered,
“True as preaching, Uncle Samuel !”c
Then a man who stood before him
Pulkd a bottle from his pocket,
And approaching Uncle Samuel,
Clapt it to his lips and spoke thus—
“ Take this bottle Uncle Sammy,
Take a good pull at this bottle,
’Tis an eiixer whose virtues
Far surpass the boasted bitters
That are advertised in papers,
On the rocks, along the railroads,
On the mountains, by the sea-side,
By the lakes, along the rivers.”
Then a pull took Uncle Samuel,
Smacked his lips and took another,
Drew his breath and took another,
Till his blare eyes snapped and twinkl’d,
Brighter grew and flash’d ami lighten'd,
And once more his sight returned.
Then he growl’d a while at Nathan,
Scowled a look like thunder at him,
With a vim talked thus-wise to him:
“Now indeed I know you, Nathan !
First of all the carper-baggers—
First and greatest lying bragger—
Father of all crazy Isms,
Os a thousand sects and schisms,
Social, moral and politic,
Rules, reforms all hypocrite—
First of wooden nutmeg-makers,
You it was who whipped the Quakers,
You—the while of Freedom boasting,
You—the while a witch was roasting,
Monumental pillars raising,
By the light of convents blazing,
Seeking thro’ the Scripture pages,
’Mong the laws of barbarous ages,
For examples fierce and cruel
That would serve as food and fuel
To vuur persecuting spirit !”
On a sudden ceased he scolding,
Took a long pull at the bottle,
Raised it higher, higher, higher,
Till it stood erect above him,
And the last of the elixir
Trickled slowly down his gullet;
Then he scowled awhile at Nathan,
Hurled the bottle fiercely at him,
Hurled it at him with such vigor
That it struck him on the forehead,
And in thousand broken pieces
Flew around among the people.
And the people shouted loudly,
Shouted one and all together,
“True as preaching, Unde Sammy '
Bully for you, Uncle Sammy !”
Than they seized on trembling Nathan,
j Tore his duster all in tatters,
! Tore bis carpet-bag in pieces,
Flung his traps into the river,
Kicked and cuffed him without mercy,
AUGUSTA, CIA., FEBEUAEY 5 1870.
Called him thieving scallawagger !
Called him swindling greenback ragger!
And they drove him from among them,
Like another Cain they drove them,
Asa warning to the nations,
For the here and the hereafter.
Noah Kount.
[From the Belfast Observer,]
The Holly Branch and the Ivy
Leaf.
BY THE EDITOR.
CHAPTER 11.
[concluded.]
I left him with a strange sensation in
my breast; but nerved myself for the
task before me. When I entered the
drawing-room I found Emma lying on
the sofa, sobbing almost convulsively,
and her maid and foster sister Bridget
(you have seen her, and you have seen
the best and most faithful creature in the
world) hanging over her; and although
the tears trickled down her own cheeks,
tenderly endeavoring to cheer and con
sole her.
“Hush, my dear, hush ! Do now—
that’s a darling. Sure he’ll be back soon,
and I’ll warrant its a general he’ll be.
And won’t you him when
you see all the medals, and gold, and
stripes and feathers —come, now, let me
dry your eyes”—
My entrance interrupted poor Brid
get’s homely eloquence, and she immedi
ately resigned her place to me. I took
Emma’s hand and rallied her as best I
could.
“Why, Emma, is this the way you re
ceive a soldier’s call to duty, and you a
Davenport ?”
“Oh, Harry!” was all she could say.
I raided her gently, and placed her head
upon my breast. She never seemed to
me a child till then; and, as I gazed ou
innocent helplessness, my own strength
seemed likely to give way, and my un
hidden tears to mingle with hers. How
ever, I succeeded in mastering my feel
ings, and 1 continued—
‘Ci»me, come, Emma, this will never
do. Remember our father. Your duty
to him requires you to control this emo
tion, even if you had so little regard for
me as to give me no other encouragement
at parting ihan what is contained in your
sighs and tears.”
“Oil! Harry,” she cried, “you wrong
me. It is not that you are going, 1 could
bear that; and I never was so proud of
you, never loved you so dearly, as when
I heard your noble declaration that you
would do your duty. But 1 have be
haved so shamefully to you since you
came home—teazing and worrying you—
and now”
Here a fresh flood of tears burst forth
and interrupted her words. I let them
flow for a minute or two, and then turn
ing to Bridget, 1 asked her where Miss
Go Ikiu was.
“In her own room, sir,” was the reply,
“locked in, and she will neither speak to
anybody, or let anybody near her.”
“Go to her with my compliments, and
say I would be obliged if she would come
and see Miss Emma.”
Bridget discharged her errand, and in
a few minutes Annie entered, paler than
ever, but not a trace of a tear was virdble
in her lace. I was alarmed for her; so,
judging it the best thing to do, I took
her by the hand, led her to Emma, and
said
“Now, girls, I’ll give you just fifteen
minute’s grace, and when I return I ex
pect to find you well muffled and pre
pared lor a walk. \ T ou must take me to
some of oui old haunts, aud give me one
more delightful teazing, just for the sake
of the times that are pa>L and the better
times that are to come.” As I left the
dravving-r'iom, I had the satisfaction of
seeing Annie throwing her arms round
my sister’s neck, and bursting into tears.
“Thank God!” I exclaimed, “she will be
relieved, and Emma must be the consoler
now.”
You can easily conjecture how that day
and the next passed. I exerted myself
to cheer the girls, and succeeded beyond
my expectations. My father, who watched
my efforts, thanked me a hundred
times with his looks, and this inspired
me with renewed exertions, so that during
dinner on Christmas Day I was the only
one of a large company who seemed in
spirits consonant with the joyous testival.
Most of our visitors left in the course ol
the evening, and about ten o’clock, after
doing my devoirs to the strangers, I went
to look for Emma and Annie, whom I
had sadly neglected, but they understood
me. I found them in a small boudoir
which opened off the drawing-room, and,
on my entrance, Emma rose, saying
“the wanted to see papa,” and left Annie
and myself together. No need to detail
now what passed. We were both
young—too 3 r oung for artistic love-mak
ing, but I could not bear the thought of
going away for, perhaps, many years,
without carrying with me an assurance
of Annie’s affection. In this, however, I
was disappointed. Do what I would, I
could not wring from her cither a promise
of attachment or a direct acknowledgment
of reciprocal affection.
“No, Harry,” she said, in reply to my
whispered entreaties, “do not press me ;
upon this point I’ana resolute. lam not
worthy of you. lam a wild, thoughtless,
giddy girl. I must make myself better
before I could accept sucli a heart as
yours. Leave me as you found me, and
turn your eyes to a higher and more de
serving object.”
I tried in vain by combatting her rea
sons to shake her determination, but to
no purpose, and at last I said, bitterly—
“ You dou’t love me, then. You reject
me. I see now why it was you ridiculed
and teazed me; and it is only in keeping
with all that has passed that you should
now deny me the only comfort that could
sustaiu me iu leaving home and country,
and facing dangers from which I may
never return.”
As I spoke thus, I turned to leave the
room, and my head struck a tiny little
branch of holly which hung suspended
from one of the festoons. It fsll to the
ground, and, as I stooped to pick it up,
I could not help looking at Annie. Ilcr
eyes were suffused with tears, and my
heart smote me for my harshness. She,
however, anticipated me, and, advancing,
she held out her hand. Just at the mo
ment, a solitary ivy leal tiiat clung in its
isolation to the holly branch, floated airi
ly from it, and fell on the extended palm
of the white hand presented to me. She
looked at it for a moment mournfully,
and then, as if a sudden thought struck
her, said :
“Listen, Harry. You might have
spared me, at this bitter parting, one just
reproach, and one unjust'suspicion. Still,
I oonnot blame you. 1 know from what
1 am suffering myself, that you are suf
fering too, and that my trial is but a trifle
compared with the many you have to go
through. Hear me now, it is useless to
confess what I cannot conceal. I am
very young, and I have no mother to
guide me, but if, on ilie Christmas Day
after you return from India, you think fit
to put to me the question you have put
to-night, i will answer it. in the mean
time I will keep—this little leaf that has
flown into my hand to remind me of that
day. In the meantime let us bo to each
other what we have been, you my broth
er, I your sister—l can say no more.
Farewell!”
She gave rue her hand, and held up her
cheek, as &he used to do. in the days of
her childhood. I was forced to bo con
tented with her arrangement, aud, kiss
ing her fervently, we parted for the
nmht. I remained some minutes in the
O
boudoir, the holly branch in my hand,
pleased, and yet not satisfied, and bccom-
ing alternately the prey of wavering hope
and uncertain fear. My father’s voice
roused me from my reverie, and I
stepped into the drawing-room. Emma and
he were conversing together, but on my
approach he rose, and, placing me in his
own seat, said in a tone that sank into
my heart with indescribable solemnity—-
“Harry, as your father, I thank you
for your conduct both yesterday and to
day. You have fought and won the
greatest of all battles, one over even your
better self. My boy, this augurs well
for your future career. I am not going
to lecture you. You do not require it.
The past is a guarantee of the future, and
lam both proud and content. I have
but one word more to add Life is un
certain in its vicissitudes as well as its
termination, and it may please Provi
dence to take me away before I see you
again. I commend your sister to your
care. She is the image of her mother;
be to her, should circumstances require
it, both father and brother, and now re
ceive my blessing and may God protect
you!”
At the last word I sauk upon my knees
and as my father’s hand rested upon my
head, my pent up feelings gave way and
I burst into a flood of tears. lie raised
me up, placed me in Emma’s arms, and
without uttering a word left the room. It
was now my sister’s turn to become the
comforter; and how her brave little heart
did rise to the occasion ! My own battery
of the previous day was turned up against
me, and before a quarter of an hour
elapsed we were chatting calmly, if not
cheerily together, building castles in the
air, and making arrangements for com
municating with each other that were to
annihilate time and space. The night
was far advanced before we separated,
and as I could not rest I was up betimes
anxious to take a last look at the old place,
before I bade it adieu. When I rose, a
fragment of the waning moon was above
the horizon, and the stars still studded
the sky. It was about five o'clock, and
as I was unwilling to disturb the house
hold by unbarring the door, I entered
the dining room in order to pass out
through the bay window that opened on
the lawn. As I proceeded towards it 1
was startled with what at first appealed
a;i apparition, and I was hardly able to
suppress a cry. As it was, I uttered
some sort of an exclamation, for a gentle
hand was placed upon my arm, and An
nie’s well known voice whispered :
“Hush, Hariy dear, ’tis I. I thought
you would be stirring early, and I came
to say good-bye. I knew I would not
have strength to say it before others.
Take this, and wear it for my sake; and
when you are far away think sometimes
of the poor spoiled child, who will never
cease to pray lor you.”
Bhe threw a gold chain, to which a
locket, containing a likeness of herself,
taken when she was ten years of age,was
suspended, round m3’ neck; then, clasp
ing me closely in her slender arms, she
imprinted a fervent kiss on 1113’ cheek,
and, before I could return her embrace,
fled to her room. There she remained
closeted, and before my departure I saw
her no more. 1 will not weary you with
an account of the parting interview be
tween my father, Emma, and myself;
you can readily conceive what it was to
say adieu to such a parent and such a
sister; and now I must ask you to follow
me to a different lain! and different
scenes.
CHAPTER 111.
INDIA, AND WHAT CAME OF IT.
Our regiment was hardly embarked at
Calcutta, when vo were ordered to the
in.tei it>r on service. It was of paramount
importune-* to crush the rebellious tribes
beiore tiie spir.t of revolt spread amongst
the wavering an 1 the neutral. We bud
several engagements with the eno nv,
some of them important —none ol tin iu
insignificant. We lost % however, th’ough
No. 47*