gger, and oh! for a whip;
Oh! for a cocktail, and oh! for a nip;
Oh! for a shot at old Greeley and Beecher;
Oh! for a crack at a Yankee school-teacher.'
And so he kept oh-ing for all he had not,
Not contented with owing for all that he'd got."

Why does the world minify our intelligence by depreciating our favorite
article of diet, and express the ultimate extreme of mental pauperism by
saying of him on whose intellect they would heap contempt, "He doesn't
know beans"? [Laughter.] And it is within my recollection that there was
a time when it was proposed to reconstruct the Union of the States, with
New England left out. Why, I repeat it, the intense unpopularity of New
England?

For one thing, it seems to me, we are hated because of our virtues; we
are ostracized because men are tired of hearing about "New England, the
good." The virtues of New England seem to italicize the moral poverty of
mankind at large. The fact that the very first act of our foremothers,
even before the landing was made, two hundred and sixty-nine years ago,
was to go on shore and do up the household linen, which had suffered
from the voyage of ninety days, is a perpetual reproof to those nations
among whom there is a great opening for soap, who have a great many
saints' days, but no washing day. [Laughter and applause.] When men
nowadays are disposed to steal a million acres from the Indians, it
detracts from their enjoyment to read what Governor Josiah Winslow wrote
in _1676_: "I think I can clearly say that, before the present troubles
broke out, the English did not possess one foot of land in this colony
but what was fairly obtained by honest purchase of the Indian
proprietors." When our fellow-citizens of other States look at their
public buildings, every stone in which tells of unpaid loans; when they
remember how they have scaled and scaled the unfortunate people who were
guilty of the crime of having money to lend, until the creditors might
be considered obnoxious to the Mosaic law, which looked with disfavor
upon scaleless fish, it is naturally aggravating to them to remember
that, at the close of King Philip's war, Plymouth Colony was owing a
debt more than equal to the personal property of the colony, and that
the debt was paid to the last cent [applause]; to remember the time, not
very far gone by, when the Bay State paid the interest on her bonds in
gold, though it cost her two hundred and seventy-six cents on every