“Did you hear that Irishman a latherin’ away with both arms, as if he was tryin’ to thrash out wheat, and see how bothered he looked, as if he couldn’t find nothin’ but dust and chaff in the straw? Well, that critter was agin the Bill, in course, and Irish like, used every argument in favour of it. Like a pig swimmin’ agin stream, every time he struck out, he was a cuttin’ of his own throat. He then blob blob blobbered, and gog gog goggled, till he choked with words and passion, and then sot down.
“Then that English Radical feller, that spoke with great voice, and little sense. Aint he a beauty, without paint, that critter? He know’d he had to vote agin the Bill, ‘cause it was a Government Bill, and be know’d he had to speak for Bunkum, and therefore—”
“Bunkum!” I said, “pray, what is that?”
“Did you never hear of Bunkum?”
“No, never.”
“Why, you don’t mean to say you don’t know what that is?”
“I do not indeed.”
“Not Bunkum? Why, there is more of it to Nova Scotia every winter, than would paper every room in Government House, and then curl the hair of every gall in the town. Not heer of Bunkum? why how you talk!”
“No, never.”
“Well, if that don’t pass! I thought every body know’d that word. I’ll tell you then, what Bunkum is. All over America, every place likes to hear of its members to Congress, and see their speeches, and if they don’t, they send a piece to the paper, enquirin’ if their member died a nateral death, or was skivered with a bowie knife, for they hante seen his speeches lately, and his friends are anxious to know his fate. Our free and enlightened citizens don’t approbate silent members; it don’t seem to them as if Squashville, or Punkinville, or Lumbertown was right represented, unless Squashville, or Punkinville, or Lumbertown, makes itself heard and known, ay, and feared too. So every feller in bounden duty, talks, and talks big too, and the smaller the State, the louder, bigger, and fiercer its members talk.