SING, O goddess, the wrath, the ontamable dander of KeittKeitt of South Carolina, the clear

grit, the tall, the ondaunted Him that hath wopped his own niggers till Northerners all unto Keitt

Seem but as niggers to wop, and hills

of the smallest potatoes. Late and long was the fight on the Constitution of Kansas; Daylight passed into dusk, and dusk

into lighting of gas-lamps;Still on the floor of the house the heroes unwearied were fighting. Dry grew palates and tongues with excitement and expectoration, Plugs were becoming exhausted, and Representatives also. Who led on to the war the anti

Lecomptonite phalanx? Grow, hitting straight from the shoulder, the Pennsylvania Slasher;

Him followed Hickman, and Potter the wiry, from woody Wisconsin; Washburne stood with his brother,

Cadwallader stood with Elihu; Broad Illinois sent the one, and woody Wisconsin the other.

Squares to go in at the bar, when the dangerous varmint is cornered. "Come out, Grow," he cried, "you

Black Republican puppy, Come on the floor, like a man, and darn my eyes, but I'll show you"

Him answered straight-hitting Grow,

"Waal now, I calkilate, Keitt, No nigger-driver shall leave his plantation in South Carolina, Here to crack his cow-hide round this child's ears, if he knows it."

Scarce had he spoke when the hand, the chivalrous five fingers of Keitt,

Never more from a stump had he stirred up the free and enlightened;

But though smart Keitt's mauleys, the mauleys of Grow were still

smarter;

Straight from the shoulder he shot,

not Owen Swift or Ned Adams Ever put in his right with more delicate feeling of distance.

As drops hammer on anvil, so dropped Grow's right into Keitt Just where the jugular runs to the point at which Ketch ties his drop-knot;

Prone like a log sank Keitt, his dollars rattled about him.

Forth sprang his friends o'er the body; first, Barksdale, wavingwig-wearer,

Craige and McQueen and Davis, the

ra'al hoss of wild Mississippi; Fiercely they gathered round Grow, catawampously up as to chaw

him;

But without Potter they reckoned, the wiry from woody Wisconsin;

He, striking out right and left, like a catamount varmint and vicious,

Dashed to the rescue, and with him the Washburnes, Cadwallader, Elihu;

Slick into Barksdale's bread-basket walked Potter's one, two,— hard and heavy;

Barksdale fetched wind in a trice, dropped Grow, and let out at Elihu.

Then like a fountain had flowed the

claret of Washburne the elder, But for Cadwallader's care, Cadwallader, guard of his brother, Clutching at Barksdale's nob, into

Chancery soon would have drawn it.

Well was it then for Barksdale, the wig that waved over his forehead:

Off in Cadwallader's hands it came, and, the wearer releasing, Left to the conqueror nought but the scalp of his baldheaded foe

man.

Meanwhile hither and thither, a dove on the waters of trouble,

Moved Mott, mild as new milk, with his gray hair under his broad

brim, Preaching peace to deaf ears, and getting considerably damaged. Cautious Covode in the rear, as dubious what it might come to, Brandished a stone-ware spittoon 'gainst whoever might seem to deserve it,

Little it mattered to him whether
Pro or Anti-Lecompton,
So but he found in the Hall a foeman
worthy his weapon!

So raged this battle of men, till into the thick of the mêlée,

Like to the heralds of old, stepped the Sergeant-at-Arms and the Speaker.

LONDON PUNCH.

PURITANS.

OUR brethren of New England use
Choice malefactors to excuse,
And hang the guiltless in their stead,
Of whom the churches have less
need;

As late it happened in a town
Where lived a cobbler, and but one,
That out of doctrine could cut use,
And mend men's lives as well as shoes.
This precious brother having slain
In times of peace an Indian,
Not out of malice, but mere zeal,
Because he was an infidel;
The mighty Tottipotimoy
Sent to our elders an envoy,
Complaining loudly of the breach
Of league held forth by brother
Patch,

Against the articles in force Between both churches, his and ours;

For which he craved the saints to render

Into his hands, or hang the offender. But they maturely having weighed They had no more but him of the

The world stood trembling at Jove's throne;

While each pale sinner hung his head, Jove nodding shook the heavens, and said;

Offending race of human kind, By nature, reason, learning, blind; You who through frailty stepped aside,

And you who never erred through pride;

You who in different sects were shammed,

And come to see each other damned; (So some folks told you, but they knew

No more of Jove's designs than you.)
The world's mad business now is o'er,
And I resent your freaks no more;
I to such blockheads set my wit,
I damn such foolsgo, go, you're
bit!"