* * * * * * * *

  I du believe with all my soul
    In the gret Press’s freedom,
  To pint the people to the goal
    An’ in the traces lead ’em;
  Palsied the arm thet forges jokes
    At my fat contracts squintin’,
  An’ withered be the nose that pokes
    Inter the gov’ment printin’!

  I du believe thet I should give
    Wut’s his’n unto Caesar,
  Fer it’s by him I move an’ live,
    Frum him my bread and cheese air;
  I du believe thet all o’ me
    Doth bear his souperscription,—­
  Will, conscience, honor, honesty,
    An’ things o’ thet description.

  I du believe in prayer an’ praise
    To him thet hez the grantin’
  O’ jobs,—­in every thin’ that pays,
    But most of all in CANTIN’;
  This doth my cup with marcies fill,
    This lays all thought o’ sin to rest,—­
  I don’t believe in princerple,
    But, O, I du in interest.

  I du believe in bein’ this
    Or thet, ez it may happen
  One way or t’other hendiest is
    To ketch the people nappin’;
  It aint by princerples nor men
    My preudent course is steadied,—­
  I scent wich pays the best; an’ then
    Go into it baldheaded.

  I du believe thet holdin’ slaves
    Comes nat’ral tu a Presidunt,
  Let ’lone the rowdedow it saves
    To hev a wal-broke precedunt;
  Fer any office, small or gret,
    I couldn’t ax with no face,
  Without I’d ben, thru dry an’ wet,
    Th’ unrizzost kind o’ doughface.

  I du believe wutever trash
    ’ll keep the people in blindness,—­
  Thet we the Mexicuns can thrash
    Right inter brotherly kindness;
  Thet bombshells, grape, an’ powder ‘n’ ball
    Air good-will’s strongest magnets;
  Thet peace, to make it stick at all,
    Must be druv in with bagnets.

  In short, I firmly du believe
    In Humbug generally,
  Fer it’s a thing that I perceive
    To hev a solid vally;
  This heth my faithful shepherd ben,
    In pasturs sweet heth led me,
  An’ this ’ll keep the people green
    To feed ez they hev fed me.

EDWARD EVERETT HALE.

[From The Man Without a Country.[1]]

The rule adopted on board the ships on which I have met “the man without a country” was, I think, transmitted from the beginning.  No mess liked to have him permanently, because his presence cut off all talk of home or of the prospect of return, of politics or letters, of peace or of war—­cut off more than half the talk men liked to have at sea.  But it was always thought too hard that he should never meet the rest of us except to touch hats, and we finally sank into one system.  He was not permitted to talk with the men unless an officer was by.  With officers he had unrestrained intercourse, as far