ustice might as well be ignored forever. The
present President was too--

At this moment the hum of an approaching multitude drowned all other
sounds, and there advanced from the rear of Paris a great band of
high-moral citizens, with a banner announcing

UNION NOMINATION

FOR

PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES

IN 1869.

_OUR UNCLE ABE_.[7]

Forward surged this new audience toward the platform, and both Miss P.
Hen and the Chicago chap had recommenced their hymns of gratitude, when
an athletic citizen from Baltimore made a dash for the front railing
and eloquently addressed the meeting. He was proud to see such a
glorious concourse assembled, for no wrangling party object, but solely
to unite in thankfulness to a greater than all earthly powers for the
blessing of returning peace. To make that peace permanent and solid,--

[7] Four days after the date of this letter, ABRAHAM LINCOLN--the
wise, the just, the merciful--fell beneath the dastard blow of an
ignoble assassin! All that is beautiful and good in the world
must mourn his irreparable loss; and I need not say how consoling
it is to me in this dark hour to feel, that, in all my
extravagances of nonsense, I have never penned one word
concerning the Martyr-President that was not inspired by a
sentiment of actual affection for his genial and guileless
character. Thank God! his eternally-infamous murderer came of a
line not native to my country!

O. C. K.

Here Miss P. Hen got to the front and brought down her umbrella with
awful violence upon the bare head of the speaker, and says she: "I'm
the Republican party myself!"

"I beg your pardon, miss," says the Baltimore citizen, hotly, "but
_I'm_ the Republican party!"

"You're both impostors!" roared the Chicago chap, scientifically
squaring-off; "for I'M the Republican party!"

Crash goes the platform; down tumble the banners. Fists are plunging
wildly in all directions, while such howls and screams arise from the
tempest as though pandemonium were let loose to run a gamut of
diabolical sounds.

Seated upon a barrel a short distance off, I was taking a deep
interest, through my bit of smoked glass, in this scene of exciting
National Thanksgiving, when a strange ringing noise, or lively bellow,
and a sharp crash very unexpectedly sounded above the din, and, on
looking up, I beheld the Conservative Kentucky chap joyously