can rise up to the Emergency, and cave in the Emergency's
head?

Congress, you won't do. Go home, you mizzerable devils--go
home!

At a special Congressional 'lection in my district the other
day I delib'ritly voted for Henry Clay. I admit that Henry is
dead, but inasmuch as we don't seem to have a live statesman
in our National Congress, let us by all means have a first-
class corpse.

Them who think that a cane made from the timbers of the house
I once boarded in is essenshall to their happiness, should not
delay about sendin' the money right on for one.

My reported captur by the North American savijis of Utah, led
my wide circle of friends and creditors to think that I had
bid adoo to earthly things and was a angel playin' on a golden
harp. Hents my rival home was on expected.

It was 11, P.M., when I reached my homestid and knockt a
healthy knock on the door thereof.

A nightcap thrusted itself out of the front chamber winder.
(It was my Betsy's nightcap.) And a voice said:

"Who is it?"

"It is a Man!" I answered, in a gruff vois.