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And he says that the mountains are fairer
For once being held in your thought;
That each rock holds a wealth that is rarer
Than ever by gold-seeker sought(Which are words he would put in these pages,
By a party not given to guile; Which the same not, at date, paying
Might produce in the sinful a smile.)
He remembers the ball at the Ferry, And the ride, and the gate, and the vow,
And the rose that you gave him— that very
Same rose he is treasuring now; (Which his blanket he's kicked on his trunk, Miss,
And insists on his legs being free; And his language to me from his bunk, Miss,
Is frequent and painful and free.)
Mott came mild as new milk, with gray hairs under his broad brim,
Leaving the first chop location and water privilege near it,
Held by his fathers of old on the willow-fringed banks of Ohio. Wrathy Covôde, too, I saw, and Montgomery ready for mischief.
Who against these to the floor led on the Lecomptonite legions? Keitt of South Carolina, the clear grit, the tall, the ondauntedKeitt, and Reuben Davis, the ra'al hoss of wild Mississippi; Barksdale, wearer of wigs, and Craige from North Carolina; Craige and scorny McQueen, and Owen, and Lovejoy, and La
Squares to go in at the bar, when the dangerous varmint is cornered.
"Come out, Grow," he cried, “you Black Republican puppy, Come on the, floor, like a man, and darn my eyes, but I'll show you".
Him answered straight-hitting Grow, "Waal now, I calkilate, Keitt, No nigger-driver shall leave his plantation in South Carolina, Here to crack his cow-hide round this child's ears, if he knows it."
Scarce had he spoke when the hand. the chivalrous five fingers of Keitt, Clutched at his throat,-had they closed, the speeches of Grow had been ended, ·
Moved Mott, mild as new milk, with his gray hair under his broad brim,
Meanwhile hither and thither, a dove on the waters of trouble,
Preaching peace to deaf ears, and getting considerably damaged. Cautious Covode in the rear, as dubious what it might come to, Brandished a stone-ware spittoon 'gainst whoever might seem to deserve it, Little it mattered to him whether Pro or Anti-Lecompton,
So but he found in the Hall a foeman worthy his weapon!
So raged this battle of men, till into the thick of the mêlée,
Like to the heralds of old, stepped the Sergeant-at-Arms and the Speaker.
OUR brethren of New England use
As late it happened in a town
For which he craved he saints to render
Into his hands, or hang the offender. But they maturely having weighed They had no more but him of the trade,
A man that served them in the double Capacity to teach and cobble, Resolved to spare him; yet to do The Indian Hogan Mogan too Impartial justice, in his stead did Hang an old weaver that was bedrid. BUTLER.