queness of the scene.
Unfortunately, the committee of arrangements had not been able to
procure a copy of the Declaration of Independence. Its place was
supplied by an apologetic speech from a Mr. J., who will, without
doubt, be the Democratic candidate for state representative at the
coming election. This gentleman finished his performance by introducing
Mr. B., the orator of the day, who is the Whig nominee for the
above-mentioned office. Before pronouncing his address, Mr. B. read
some verses which he said had been handed to him anonymously the
evening before. I have copied them for your amusement. They are as
follows, and are entitled--

_A_ FOURTH _of_ JULY WELCOME _to the_ MINERS

Ye are welcome, merry miners, in your blue and red shirts all;
Ye are welcome, 'mid these golden hills, to your nation's festival;
Though ye've not shaved your savage lips nor cut your barb'rous
hair,
Ye are welcome, merry miners, all bearded as ye are.

What though your brows are blushing at the kisses of the sun,
And your once white and well-kept hands are stained a sober dun;
What though your backs are bent with toil, and ye have lost the air
With which ye bowed your stately heads amid the young and fair,

I fain would in my slender palm your horny fingers clasp,
For I love the hand of honest toil, its firm and heartfelt grasp;
And I know, O miners brave and true, that not alone for self
Have ye heaped, through many wearying months, your glittering pile
of pelf.

Ye of the dark and thoughtful eyes beneath the bronzed brow,
Ye on whose smooth and rounded cheeks still gleams youth's purple
glow,
Ye of the reckless, daring life, ye of the timid glance;
Ho! young and old; ho! grave and gay,--to our nation's fete advance.

Ho! sun-kissed brother from the South, where radiant skies are
glowing;
Ho! toiler from the stormy North, where snowy winds are blowing;
Ho! Buckeye, Hoosier, from the West, sons of the river great,--
Come, shout Columbia's birthday song in the new Golden State.

Ho! children of imperial France; ho! Erin's brave and true;
Ho! England's golden-bearded race,--we fain would welcome you,
And dark-eyed friends from those glad climes where Spain's proud
blood is seen;
To join in Freedom's holy psalm ye'll not refuse, I ween.

For now the banner of the free's in _very deed_