e of the broad
noonday are equals under the stars; for if the sun shines upon the one
working that the other may be idle, the gentle planets of the night
make master and bondman of one hue and perfect equals in Nature's own
Republic,--starry Night. The banner for you, my friend, should bear the
sun, to show that it is but for a day."
The conservative Kentucky chap came away swearing, my boy; and hence,
it was in no very good humor that he now saluted the Confederate
raggedier.
"Hem!" says he, ungraciously, "where did all those rags come from, and
what is their name?"
The Confederacy hastily put on a pair of white cotton gloves, and says
he:
"Am I addressing the Democratic Organization?"
"You address the large Kentucky branch," says the Conservative chap,
pulling out his ruffles.
"Then," says the Confederacy, "I am prepared to make an indirect
proposition for peace. My name is Mr. Lamb, by which title the
Democratic Organization has always known the injured Confederacy, and I
propose the following terms: Hostilities shall at once cease, and the
two armies be consolidated under the title of the Confederate States
Forces. The war-debts of the North and South shall be so united that
the North may be able to pay them without confusion. An election for a
new President shall at once be held, everybody voting save those who
have shown animosity to the sunny South. France shall be driven out of
Mexico by the consolidated armies, the expense being so managed that
the North may pay it without further trouble. Upon these terms, the
Confederacy will become a peaceful fellow-man."
"Hem!" says the Kentucky chap, "What you ask is perfectly reasonable. I
will consider the matter after the manner of a dispassionate Democrat,
and return you my answer in a few days."
Here I hastily stepped up, and says I, "But are you not going to
consult the President at all about it, my Jupiter Tonans?"
"The President? the President?" says the Conservative Kentucky chap,
with a vague look. "Hem!" says he, "I really forgot all about the
President!"
The Democratic Organization, my boy, in its zeal to benefit its
distracted country, is occasionally like that eminent fire company in
the Sixth Ward, which nobly usurped with its hose the terrible business
of putting out a large conflagration, and never remembered, until its
beautiful machine was all in position, that another company of
fellow-firemen had exclusive possession of all the
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