Rackcoons liv tew be 65 years old, if they miss the sosiety ov men, and dogs enuff, but thare aint but few ov them die ov old age; the north western fur company, are the grate undertakers of the coon family.
I feel sorry for coons; for with a trifle more brains, they would make respectable pettifoggers before a justiss ov the peace; but even this would not save them from final perdishun.
Natur don’t make any mistakes, after all; she hits the bull right in the eye every time: when she wants a rackcoon with rings on hiz tale, she makes him; and when she wants a pettyfogger, she knows how tew make him, without spileing a good coon.
Pettyfoggers, no doubt, hav a destiny to fill, and they may enable a justiss ov the peace, in a cloudy day, tew know a good deal less ov the law than he otherwize would; still, for all this, if I war obliged tew pray for one or the other, I think now I should say, Giv us a leetle more coon, and a good deal less pettyfogger.
If the Raccoon would only giv his whole attenshun tew politicks, thar ain’t but few could beat him; he is at home on the stump, and menny on us, old coons, kan reckolekt how, in 1840, with nothing but a hard cider diet, he swept the country, from the north to the south pole, like a cargo ov epsom salts.
THE FEATHERED ONES.
DUK.
The duk is a foul. Thare aint no doubt about this—naturalists say so, and kommon sense teaches it.
THE FEATHERED ONES.