n the meannesses of the time. The flexible dialect
seemed to add honesty to the poet's invective. The satire was
oftentimes savage enough, but the vehicle by which it was conveyed,
carried it off. There was danger that Lowell might exceed his limit,
but the excess so nearly reached, never came. The papers aroused the
whole country, said Whittier, and did as much to free the slave,
almost, as Grant's guns. In one of the numbers, Mr. Lowell produced,
quite by accident, as it were, his celebrated poem of "The Courtin'."
This was in the second series, begun in the _Atlantic Monthly_, of
which he was, in 1857, one of the founders, and editor. This series
was written during the time of the American Civil War, and the object
was to ridicule the revolt of the Southern States, and show up the
demon of secession in its true colors. Birdofredum Sawin, now a
secessionist, writes to Hosea Biglow, and the poem is, of course,
introduced as usual, by the parson. The humor is more grim and
sardonic, for the war was a stern reality, and Mr. Lowell felt the
need of making his work tell with all the force that he could put into
it. In response to a request for enough "copy" to fill out a certain
editorial page, Lowell wrote rapidly down the verses which became, at
a bound, so popular. He added, from time to time, other lines. This is
the story of the Yankee courtship of Zekle and Huldy:--

"The very room, coz she was in,
Seemed warm f'om floor to ceilin',
An' she looked full ez rosy agin
Ez the apples she was peelin'.

* * * * *

He kin' o' l'itered on the mat,
Some doubtfle o' the sekle,
His heart kep' goin' pity-pat,
But hern went pity Zekle.

An' yit she gin her chair a jerk
As though she wished him furder,
An' on her apples kep' to work,
Parin' away like murder.

'You want to see my pa, I s'pose?'
'Wall,--no--I come dasignin'--'
'To see my ma? She's sprinklin' clo's
Agin to-morrer's i'nin.'

To say why gals acts so or so,
Or don't 'ould be prosumin',
Mebby to mean _yes_ an' say _no_
Comes natural to women.

He stood a spell on one foot fust,
Then stood a spell on t'other,
An' on which one he felt the wust
He couldn't ha' told ye nuther.

Says he, 'I'd better call agin;'
Says she, 'Think likely, mister;'
Thet last word pricked him like a pin,
An'--w