tion vitch propels your model Universal nigger-cotton-gin

niversal nigger-cotton-gin.

"Hi know such coves as you a few,

And, zur, just now, hi'm not in tin; Hi tells you vot, great Yankee Doodle might hincline to put me through, Hif hi should buy your model Universal nigger-cotton-gin

niversal nigger-cotton-gin."

Then spoke smooth Monsieur Parlez-vous, Whose gilded throne was got in sin—

(As was he too, if tales are true :)

"I does not vant your model U-"
(He sounds a V for a W)
"niversal nigger-cotton-gin-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin."

“A negar in de fence I view,

Your grand machine he's rotting in;

I smells him now; he stinketh--w-h-e-w! Give me a good tobacco chew,

And you may keeps your model U

niversal nigger-cotton-gin

niversal nigger-cotton-gin."

The pedler then sloped quickly to
The land he was begotten in;
With woeful visage, feelings blue,
He sadly questioned what to do,
When none would buy his model U-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin-

A

niversal nigger-cotton-gin.

From out his pocket then he drew
rag that blood was clotting in;
It had a field of heavenly blue,

Was flecked with stars-the very few
That glimmered on his model U-

niversal nigger-cotton-gin.
niversal nigger-cotton-gin.

He gazed long on its tarnished hue, And mourned the fix he'd gotten in; Then filled his eyes with contrite dew, As in its folds his nose he blew,

And thus addressed his model U

niversal nigger-cotton-gin

niversal nigger-cotton-gin.

"Then crownless king, thy days are few; The world thou art forgotten in;

Ere thou dost die, thy life review,
Repent thy crimes, thy wrongs undo,
Give freedom to the dusky crew
Whose blood now stains the model U-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin-
niversal nigger-cotton-gin."

THE BRITISH LION AND THE SECESSION ASS.

A SHORT FABLE.

A LION was sitting upon his high throne,

The mantled monarch of forest and glen,

And the gleam of his diadem brightly shone, And the roar of his might reëchoed again.

A donkey, at distance, harked to the roar,
And erecting his ears from habitual flop,
With ravishment spurred, full madly he tore
To the foot of the throne, an obeisance to drop.

"Oh! graciously deign a poor ass to permit

The tip of thy paw with his mouth to salute; But if honor so high may not seem to be fit,

Oh! grant him at least a kiss of thy foot."

A comical smile benignantly strayed,

As from under the purple, right royally woven, To osculate freely the foot was displayed;

By Manassas ! ye asses, the foot it was cloven!

GENERAL PRICE'S PROCLAMATION.

MIS

NEOSHO, MO., Nov. 1861.

ISSOURIANS, a word or two.
The undersigned, last June

Was called to head the Spartan few
Who sword from scabbard sternly drew,
To drive away the craven crew,

Bound by black vows to snatch from you
Your freedom's priceless boon.

The Governor distinctly asked
For fifty thousand men ;

You heard him ask—you must have heard—
I know your patriot pulses stirred,
Your patriot impulses concurred

In fierce resolves to hound the herd

Back to their Northern den.

Your hearts were right-your purpose set
To rise up there and then ;
You felt the flame of holy hate,

You longed in blood your swords to sate,
Your eagerness for fight was great,
You found it difficult to wait,

You fifty thousand men.

But notwithstanding this desire
The enemy to drive—

This strong war-fever for the fray-
This burning for the battle-day-
Most all the fifty staid away;

The actual figure, strange to say,

Was only about five.

Out of two hundred thousand males,

A match for any foes

Strong arms, brave hearts, and flashing eyes,

Hands raised defiant to the skies,

Spirit that conquers or that dies

Out of the host that burned to rise,
But five in fifty rose!

Nearly six months, you are aware,

Have come and gone since then;