The noshun that the United States iz liable at any time tew be doubled, but aint liable at enny time tew be divided.
The noshun that Uncle Sam kan thrash hiz own children when tha need it, and kan thrash the hole wurld besides.
The noshun that Yankees are a fourordained rase, and kant be kept from spredding, and striking in, enny more than turpentine kan when it once gits luce.
ATTENTION! SQUAD!
Men kalkulate with perfek accurasy, the rate ov speed attained bi earthly boddys, and ov moste matter, whether sublunary, or ov a heavenly natur. They tell us how long a ra ov light is on the way from the sun—how fass a comet travels—the best time that lightning can make—when the stars visit, and how long they are about it—the fraktional lapse kontained in the hop ov a flea—the flite ov a swallow—the velosity ov sound, and the smartness ov a hurrycane. They kan tell us how long it takes old Borus, after he leaves his cave, to reach this earth, and button up the coats ov shivring mortals. But i hav sarched their theorys and ransacked their mathematicks in vain, tew diskover the haste ov a Slander. But we kno ov nothing, on the earth, or above it, that equals it in quickness. It travels as well in the dark, as in the light—knows no law ov gravitashun, nor ov heat, or cold—is not traceable, or definable—has no parentage, and frequently no objek—is not matter, nor an essence—may fly in the glance ov an eye, or be felt in the point ov a finger—is the pet ov almost evry one—can hav the ear when charity, love, and the delikate pashuns, plead in vain—is everywhare in an instant—feeds upon nothing but sweet things, has more friends than truth, is a lie, faster than the wings ov the wind, and twin racer to thought—steals into the sakred pulpit—at midnite, robs the chaste maiden ov the ruddy truth in her cheeks—hangs sackcloth upon the manly form ov honesta—cums in a whisper—is misterious as an echo—will betray for a prise—has made kings tremble—has dried up the warm pulse ov hope, and driven modesta shreeking away—is a skorpion, invisible, but full ov madness, and menny stings. Who kan tell its whereabouts? Who can rate its speed? Who kan annylize its meanness? Who has not listened tew its preshious falsehoods? and who will not, with me, pronounse it a renegade, the common enemy ov humanitee? and who that kan shoot flieing, will not help tew bring down the base bird? Attenshun, squad!
