With laughter and with weeping,
Then shall they tell the tale,
How Colt his foeman quartered,
And died within the jail.
[Illustration: 056]
THE DEATH OF JABEZ DOLLAR
[Before the following poem, which originally appeared in 'Fraser's Magazine,' could have reached America, intelligence was received in this country of an affray in Congress, very nearly the counterpart of that which the Author has here imagined in jest. It was very clear, to any one who observed the state of public manners in America, that such occurrences must happen, sooner or later. The Americans apparently felt the force of the satire, as the poem was widely reprinted throughout the States. It subsequently returned to this country, embodied in an American work on American manners, where it characteristically appeared as the writer's own production; and it afterwards went the round of British newspapers, as an amusing satire, by an American, of his countrymen's foibles!]
The Congress met, the day was wet, Van Buren took the
chair;
On either side, the statesman pride of far Kentuck was
there.
With moody frown, there sat Calhoun, and slowly in his
cheek
His quid he thrust, and slaked the dust, as Webster rose
to speak.
Upon that day, near gifted Clay, a youthful member sat,
And like a free American upon the floor he spat;
Then turning round to Clay, He said, and wiped his manly
chin,
"What kind of Locofoco's that, as wears the painter's
skin?"
"Young man," quoth Clay, "avoid the way of Slick of
Tennessee;
Of gougers fierce, the eyes that pierce, the fiercest gouger
he;
He chews and spits, as there he sits, and whittles at the
chairs,
And in his hand, for deadly strife, a bowie-knife he
bears.
"Avoid that knife. In frequent strife its blade, so long
and thin,
Has found itself a resting-place his rivals' ribs within."
But coward fear came never near young Jabez Dollar's
heart,—
"Were he an alligator, I would rile him pretty smart!"
Then up he rose, and cleared his nose, and looked toward
the chair;
He saw the stately stripes and stars,—our country's flag
was there!
His heart beat high, with eldritch cry upon the floor he
sprang,
Then raised his wrist, and shook his fist, and spoke his
first harangue.