The American'S Apostrophe To Boz

[Rapidlyas oblivion does its work nowadays, the burst of amiable indignation with which enlightened America received the issue of Boz's Notes can scarcely yet be forgotten. Not content with waging a universal rivalry in the piracy of the work, Columbia showered upon its author the riches of its own choice vocabulary of abuse; while some of her more fiery spirits threw out playful hints as to the propriety of gouging the "stranger," and furnishing him with a permanent suit of tar and feathers, in the very improbable event of his paying them a second visit. The perusal of these animated expressions of free opinion suggested the following lines, which those who remember Boz's book, and the festivities with which he was all but hunted to death, will at once understand. We hope we have done justice to the bitterness and "immortal hate" of these thin-skinned sons of freedom. When will Americans cease to justify the ridicule of Europe, by bearing rebuke, or even misrepresentation, calmly as a great nation should?]

Sneak across the wide Atlantic, worthless London's puling child, Better that its waves should bear thee, than the land thou hast reviled; Better in the stifling cabin, on the sofa thou shouldst lie, Sickening as the fetid nigger bears the greens and bacon by; Better, when the midnight horrors haunt the strained and creaking ship, Thou shouldst yell in vain for brandy with a fever-sodden lip;

When amid the deepening darkness and the lamp's ex- piring shade, Fromthe bagman's berth above thee comes the bountiful cascade, Better than upon the Broadway thou shouldst be at noon- day seen, Smirking like a Tracy Tupman with a Mantalini mien, With a rivulet of satin falling o'er thy puny chest, Worse than even P. Willis for an evening party drest!

We received thee warmly--kindly--though we knew thou wert a quiz, Partly for thyself it may be, chiefly for the sake of Phiz! Much we bore, and much we suffered, listening to remorse- less spells Of that Smike's unceasing drivellings, and these everlast- ing Nells. When you talked of babes and sunshine, fields, and all that sort of thing, Each Columbian inly chuckled, as he slowly sucked his sling;

And though all our sleeves were bursting, from the many hundreds near Not one single scornful titter rose on thy complacent ear. Then to show thee to the ladies, with our usual want of sense We engaged the place in Park Street at a ruinous expense; Even our own three-volumed Cooper waived his old pre- scriptive right, And deluded Dickens figured first on that eventful night.

Clustersof uncoated Yorkers, vainly striving to be cool, Saw thee desperately plunging through, the perils of La Poule: And their muttered exclamation drowned the tenor of the tune,-- "Don't he beat all natur hollow? Don't He foot it like a 'coon?" Did we spare our brandy-cocktails, stint thee of our whisky- grogs? Half the juleps that we gave thee would have floored a Newman Noggs;

And thou took'st them in so kindly, little was there then to blame, To thy parched and panting palate sweet as mother's milk they came. Did the hams of old Virginny find no favour in thine eyes? Came no soft compunction o'er thee at the thought of pumpkin pies? Could not all our chicken fixings into silence fix thy scorn? Did not all our cakes rebuke thee, Johnny, waffle, dander, corn?

Could not all our care and coddling teach, thee how to draw it mild? Well, no matter, we deserve it. Serves us right! We spoilt the child! You,forsooth, must come crusading, boring us with broad- est hints Of your own peculiar losses by American reprints. Such an impudent remonstrance never in our face was flung; Lever stands it, so does Ainsworth; you, I guess, may hold your tongue.

Downpour throats you'd cram your projects, thick and hard as pickled salmon, That, I s'pose, you call free trading,--I pronounce it utter gammon. No, my lad, a 'cuter vision than your own might soon have seen That a true Columbian ogle carries little that is green; That we never will surrender useful privateering rights, Stoutly won at glorious Bunker's Hill, and other famous fights;

That we keep our native dollars for our native scribbling gents, And on British manufacture only waste our straggling cents; Quite enough we pay, I reckon, when we stump of these a few For the voyages and travels of a freshman such as you.

I have been at Niagara, I have stood beneath the Falls, I have marked the water twisting over its rampagious walls; But "a holy calm sensation," one, in fact, of perfect peace, Was as much my first idea as the thought of Christmas geese. As for"old familiar faces," looking through the misty air, Surely you were strongly liquored when you saw your Chuckster there.

One familiar face, however, you will very likely see, If you'll only treat the natives to a call in Tennessee, Of a certain individual, true Columbian every inch, In a high judicial station, called by 'mancipators, Lynch. Half an hour of conversation with his worship in a wood, Would, I strongly notion, do you an infernal deal of good.

Then you'd understand more clearly than you ever did before, Why an independent patriot freely spits upon the floor, Why he gouges when he pleases, why he whittles at the chairs, Why for swift and deadly combat still the bowie-knife he bears,-- Why he sneers at the old country with republican disdain, And, unheedful of the negro's cry, still tighter draws his chain.

All these things the judge shall teach thee of the land thou hast reviled; Get thee o'er the wide Atlantic, worthless London's puling child!