Praps I'm bearin down too hard upon Cuffy.Cum to think on it, I am.He woodn't be sich a infernal noosanse if white peple would let him alone.He mite indeed be interestin.And now Ithink of it, why can't the white peple let him alone.What's the good of continnerly stirrin him up with a ten-foot pole?
He isn't the sweetest kind of Perfoomery when in a natral stait.
Feller Sitterzens, the Union's in danger.The black devil Disunion is trooly here, starein us all squarely in the face!
We must drive him back.Shall we make a 2nd Mexico of ourselves? Shall we sell our birthrite for a mess of potash?
Shall one brother put the knife to the throat of anuther brother? Shall we mix our whisky with each other's blud?
Shall the star spangled Banner be cut up into dishcloths?
Standin here in this here Skoolhouse, upon my nativ shor so to speak, I anser--Nary!
Oh you fellers who air raisin this row, & who in the fust place startid it, I'm 'shamed of you.The Showman blushes for you, from his boots to the topmost hair upon his wenerable hed.
Feller Sitterzens: I am in the Sheer & Yeller leaf.I shall peg out 1 of these dase.But while I do stop here I shall stay in the Union.I know not what the supervizers of Baldinsville may conclude to do, but for one, I shall stand by the Stars &Stripes.Under no circumstances whatsomever will I sesesh.
Let every Stait in the Union sesesh & let Palmetter flags flote thicker nor shirts on Square Baxter's close line, still will Istick to the good old flag.The country may go to the devil, but I won't! And next Summer when I start out on my campane with my Show, wharever I pitch my little tent, you shall see floatin prowdly from the center pole thereof the Amerikan Flag, with nary a star wiped out, nary a stripe less, but the same old flag that has allers flotid thar! & the price of admishun will be the same it allers was--15 cents, children half price.
Feller Sitterzens, I am dun.Accordinly I squatted.
1.13.WAX FIGURES VS.SHAKESPEARE.
ONTO THE WING--1859.
Mr.Editor.
I take my Pen in hand to inform yu that I'm in good helth and trust these few lines will find yu injoyin the same blessins.
I wood also state that I'm now on the summir kampane.As the Poit sez--ime erflote, ime erflote On the Swift rollin tied An the Rovir is free.
Bizness is scacely middlin, but Sirs I manige to pay for my foode and raiment puncktooally and without no grumblin.The barked arrers of slandur has bin leviled at the undersined moren onct sins heze bin into the show bizness, but I make bold to say no man on this footstule kan troothfully say I ever ronged him or eny of his folks.I'm travelin with a tent, which is better nor hirin hauls.My show konsists of a serious of wax works, snakes, a paneramy kalled a Grand Movin Diarea of the War in the Crymear, komic songs and the Cangeroo, which larst little cuss continners to konduct hisself in the most outrajus stile.I started out with the idear of makin my show a grate Moral Entertainment, but I'm kompeled to sware so much at that air infurnal Kangeroo that I'm frade this desine will be flustratid to some extent.And while speakin of morrality, remines me that sum folks turn up their nosis at shows like mine, sayin they is low and not fit to be patrernized by peplpeple of high degree.Sirs, I manetane that this is infernul nonsense.I manetane that wax figgers is more elevatin than awl the plays ever wroten.Take Shakespeer for instunse.Peple think heze grate things, but I kontend heze quite the reverse to the kontrary.What sort of sense is thare to King Leer, who goze round cussin his darters, chawin hay and throin straw at folks, and larfin like a silly old koot and makin a ass of hisself ginerally? Thare's Mrs.Mackbeth--sheze a nise kind of woomon to have round ain't she, a puttin old Mack, her husband, up to slayin Dunkan with a cheeze knife, while heze payin a frendly visit to their house.O its hily morral, I spoze, when she larfs wildly and sez, "gin me the daggurs--Ile let his bowels out," or wurds to that effeck--Isay, this is awl, strickly, propper I spoze? That Jack Fawlstarf is likewise a immoral old cuss, take him how ye may, and Hamlick is as crazy as a loon.Thare's Richurd the Three, peple think heze grate things, but I look upon him in the lite of a monkster.He kills everybody he takes a noshun to in kold blud, and then goze to sleep in his tent.Bimeby he wakes up and yells for a hoss so he kan go orf and kill some more peple.
If he isent a fit spesserman for the gallers then I shood like to know whare you find um.Thare's Iargo who is more ornery nor pizun.See how shameful he treated that hily respecterble injun gentlemun, Mister Otheller, makin him for to beleeve his wife was too thick with Casheo.Obsarve how Iargo got Casheo drunk as a biled owl on corn whiskey in order to karry out his sneekin desines.See how he wurks Mister Otheller's feelins up so that he goze and makes poor Desdemony swaller a piller which cawses her deth.But I must stop.At sum futur time I shall continner my remarks on the drammer in which I shall show the varst supeeriority of wax figgers and snakes over theater plays, in a interlectooal pint of view.
Very Respectively yures, A WARD, T.K.
