are in such an infarnal hurry, they spend the whole time
in false starts.

"No, there, is no good oratory to parliament now, and
the English brag so, I doubt if it ever was so good, as
they say it was in old times. At any rate, it's all got
down to "Bunkum" now. It's makin' a speech for newspapers
and not for the House. It's to tell on voters and not on
members. Then, what a row they make, don't they? Hear,
hear, hear; divide, divide, divide; oh, oh, oh; haw, haw,
haw. It tante much different from stump oratory in America
arter all, or speakin' off a whiskey barrel, is it? It's
a sort of divil me-kear-kind o' audience; independent
critters, that look at a feller full in the face, as
sarcy as the divil; as much as to say, 'Talk away, my
old 'coon, you won't alter me, I can tell you, it's all
_Bunkum_.'

"Lord, I shall never forget poor old Davy Crocket's last
speech; there was no "bunkum" in that. He despised it;
all good shots do, they aim right straight for the mark
and hit it. There's no shootin' round the ring, with them
kinder men. Poor old feller, he was a great hunter; a
great shot with the rifle, a great wit, and a great man.
He didn't leave his _span_ behind him, when he slipt off
the handle, I know.

"Well he stood for an election and lost it, just afore
he left the States; so when it was over, he slings his
powder horn on, over his shoulders, takes his "Betsey,"