Portland, Saturday, April 2, 1831.
Dear Cousin Nabby,—I dont hardly know whether to
send this letter to you, or uncle Joshua. You know I
always send all the politics and Legislaters to uncle;
but this ere one 's most all poetry, and they say that stuff
belongs to the ladies. So I believe on the whole I shall
send it to you. Dont you be skeer'd now because I 've
made some poetry, for I dont think it 'll hurt me; I dont
feel crazy nor nothing. But I 'll jest tell you how it
happened. Last night I was in the Legislater and they
sot out to make a law to tax old bacheldors. They tried
pretty hard to make it, and I thought one spell they 'd
get it. I felt kind of bad about it because I knew it
would bear so hard upon cousin Obediah. Well, I went
home and went to bed, and I dont know what the matter
was, but I had a kind of a queer night of it; and when
I got up in the morning there was a soft sort of sickish
stuff kept running off of my tongue, jest like a stream
of chalk. Pray tell me what you think of it; here it is.
I dreamed a dream in the midst of my slumbers,
And, as fast as I dream'd, it was coined into numbers,
My thoughts ran along in such beautiful metre,
I 'm sure I ne'er saw any poetry sweeter.
It seem'd that a law had been recently made,
That a tax on old bachelors' pates should be laid.
And in order to make them all willing to marry,
The tax was as large as a man could well carry.
The Bachelors grumbled, and said 't were no use,
'T was cruel injustice and horrid abuse,
And declar'd that to save their own heart's blood from spilling,
Of such a vile tax they would ne'er pay a shilling.
But the Rulers determined their scheme to pursue,
So they set all the bachelors up at vendue.
A crier was sent thro' the town to and fro,
To rattle his bell, and his trumpet to blow,
And to bawl out at all he might meet in the way,
“Ho! forty old bachelors sold here to day,”
And presently all the old maids in the town,
Each one in her very best bonnet and gown,
From thirty to sixty, fair, plain, red and pale,
Of every description, all flocked to the sale.
The auctioneer then in his labors began,
And called out aloud, as he held up a man,
“How much for a bachelor? who wants to buy?”
In a twink every maiden responded—“I—I.”
In short, at a hugely extravagant price,
The bachelors all were sold off in a trice;
And forty old maidens, some younger, some older,
Each lugged an old bachelor home on her shoulder.
