our carbines go bang,
But if you want hangin', it's yourself you must hang.

He has mounted his horse, and soon he will be
In America, darlint, the land of the free.

"WHICH AM DE MIGHTIEST, DE PEN OR DE SWORD?"

The "Colored Debating Society" of Mount Vernon, Ohio, had some
very interesting meetings. The object of the argument on a
particular evening was the settlement, at once and forever, of
the question.

Mr. Larkins said about as follows: "Mr. Chaarman, what's de use ob a
swoard unless you's gwyne to waar? Who's hyar dat's gwyne to waar? I
isn't, Mr. Morehouse isn't, Mrs. Morehouse isn't, Mr. Newsome isn't;
I'll bet no feller wot speaks on the swoard side is any ideer ob gwyne
to waar. Den, what's de use ob de swoard? I don't tink dar's much show
for argument in de matter."

Mr. Lewman said: "What's de use ob de pen 'less you knows how to
write? How's dat? Dat's what I wants to know. Look at de chillun ob
Isr'l--wasn't but one man in de whole crowd gwine up from Egyp' to
de Promis' Lan' cood write, an' he didn't write much. [A voice in the
audience, "Who wrote de ten comman'ments, anyhow, you bet." Cheers
from the pen side.] Wrote 'em? wrote 'em? Not much; guess not; not
on stone, honey. Might p'r'aps cut 'em wid a chisel. Broke 'em all,
anyhow, 'fore he got down de hill. Den when he cut a new set, de
chillun ob Isr'l broke 'em all again. Say he did write 'em, what
good was it? So his pen no 'count nohow. No, saar. De _swoard's_ what
fotched 'em into de Promis' Lan', saar. Why, saar, it's ridiculous.
Tink, saar, ob David a-cuttin' off Goliah's head wid a _pen_, saar!
De ideer's altogedder too 'posterous, saar. De _swoard_, saar, de
_swoard_ mus' win de argument, saar."

Dr. Crane said: "I tink Mr. Lewman a leetle too fas'. He's a-speakin'
ob de times in de dim pas', when de mind ob man was crude, an' de han'
ob man was in de ruff state, an' not tone down to de refinement ob
cibilized times. Dey wasn't educated up to de use ob de pen. Deir
han's was only fit for de ruff use ob de swoard. Now, as de modern
poet says, our swoards rust in deir cubbards, an' peas, sweet peas,
cover de lan'. An' what has wrot all dis change? _De pen._ Do I take
a swoard now to get me a peck ob sweet taters, a pair ob chickens,
a pair ob shoes? No, saar. I jess take my pen an' write an order for
'em. Do I want money? I don't git it by de edge ob de swoard; I writes
a check. I want a suit ob clothes, f