What a humor this new
President of ours has!
What an inexhaustible wit and endless variety in his performances!
We say this
President of
ours; for Old Virginia must come under his beneficent away, and, on the 4th of March, he will be her head and we shall be his staff.
The Black Republicans know how to keep their own secrets, or they never could have surprised the whole world so completely and delightfully as in this
President of theirs and ours, this
Abraham Lincoln, who, in the midst of universal agony, has caused the whole nation to rear with laughter, to hold its sides, to cry with convulsive mirth instead of sorrow, and to stare with all its eyes, and wonder, like the sailor blown up by the powder magazine, what the d — I would happen next.
First he starts off from
Springfield, begging everybody to pray for him, which they promise to do, and on the same day, at
Indianapolis, he discourses upon ‘"passional attraction,"’ ‘"free love"’ and homŒpathic pills; next he holds forth at a town in Western New York, stating that he had received a letter from a girl in that town relating to the cultivation of his whiskers, and that he would be pleased to see her upon the stand.
Whereupon the modest maiden was escorted to the stand, and Father Abraham kissed her. Finally, in the great
city of New York, in the presence of an immense multitude, and of an anxious country and world, he throws up his hands before the famous boxer, Tom Hier, and cries out, ‘"Don't hit me."’ Great Heavens!
What has the country come to?
Imagine Lord Palmerston on his way to Parliament, and in the presence of all
London, throwing himself into a sparring position with
Tom Sayers! Think of the
Father of his Country, or of any
President we ever had, squaring away at some noted pugilist!
To have the independence and rights of the
South sacrificed by a subtle and polished demagogue like
Seward, would be bad enough, in all conscience; but to be subjugated by this Passional, Pugilistic, Capillary
Lincoln! Like the honest
Dutchman who died from the effects of an assault and battery by a pugnacious ram, we ‘"don't mint being kilt so much, but to be butted to death by a tam sheep,"’ is past all human endurance.
