25. XXV.
VISITS VALLANDIGHAM.
Church uv St. Vallandigum, }
July the 27th, 1863.
[1]
I hev jest returned from a visit to our persekootid saint,
Vallandigum. The marter wuz holdin a resepshun at the Clifton
House wen I arrove. He caught site uv me ez soon ez I entered
the room, and he rusht into my arms, and droopin his
head onto my heavin buzm, wept aloud.
“Marterd saint!” sez I, with a voice tremulous with emoshen.
“Sufferer fer truth!” sez he; and then this trooly grate man
whispered, “Jest keep in this posishn a minnit — the artist uv
the Noo York Illustratid Flapdoodle is makin a sketch uv us;”
wich we did, standin locked into each other's arms, and weepin
profoosely fer 15 minits. It wuz exhaustin and tiresome, but
for the cause I endoord it. The picter will appear in next
week's Flapdoodle, headed “The Two Grate Minds uv the
Age! Affectin meeting uv Vallandigum and Nasby!” The
matter akompanying the picter will be written by Vallandigum
and myself — he writin wat relates to himself, and I wat relates
to myself. We kin do ourselves justis.
“Nasby,” says the great C. L., “how is things in my nativ
state?”
“Squally,” sez I.
“Wat wuz the pervalin sentiment uv the people as to my
eggsile?”
“They wuz extremely glad uv it.”
“The akount uv my prostrashen — my untold suffrins, et
settry, wich I hed publisht in the papers; did that not affect
them?”
“Yes; they laft.”
“Did not the affectin akount uv the wife uv my buzm and
my cherub babes a jinin me here, to share my lonely eggsile,
move em?”
“Nary move.”
“Nasby, the peeple is stun. But I'll fetch em. `Nil despritrando'
is my motto I must be guvner, fer how else kin
we prevent the subjugashen uv the Dimekratik staits? Elect
me, and ther'll be no trouble about drafts, onless we shood git
involved in a war with the United States. The Confederacy
wood be recognized, Ohio wood go with the South, and slavery
wood be interdoost, and ez we woodent hev any further use
fer em, poor men woodent be allowed to vote, making me perpetooal
guvner. Nasby, we must succeed.”
“Certainly. But we're in a tite place. Our speekers is embarist.
It takes a gigantik intellek to bring the pints together.
A spritely boy wunst put 200 eggs in a nest for a hen to set
on. Sez his maternal mother:
“`My son, why puttist thou so many eggs under the hen?
She canst not kiver em.'
“`Certinly she canst not; but, thunder! I want to see her
spread herself.'
“Jest so. Our speakers is in the same fix. The outside
egg in the Dimekratik nest is opposition to the war. Tother
side uv the nest, 200 eggs distant, is the support uv the war.
To kiver em all requires great stretchin capacity.”
“Troo, too troo. But we must mix it, and trust to luck. In
loyal counties, stuff em with dilooted patriotism; in OUR counties,
pure secesh. The people is jest ez gullible now ez ever
they wuz.”
I left the patriot and sage much comforted.
Petroleum V. Nasby,
Paster uv sed Church, in charge.
