paw of a bear. All the papers opposed to Mr. Webster took the hint, and the editor was belabored with all the weapons that democratic indignation could find or forge, for this unpardonable sin against the farmers. Instigated by those who knew better, two or three persons (very foolishly, though, no doubt, very honestly,) discontinued their subscriptions. One gentleman wrote a very touching appeal to induce me to apologize for the unlucky phrase; but as I thought it a very harmless one, I chose to defend rather than disclaim it. As the election of state officers took place in November following, the democratic papers made pretty constant use of the "huge paw," to defeat the choice of the whig candidates. It was used in the Courier to encourage the whigs, and, on the morning of the election, the names of the whig candidates were placed under a device, representing a large hand; on the thumb and fingers of which were inscribed Commerce, Mechanic Arts, Agriculture, Manufactures, Internal Improvements, and in the palm, Protective Policy. Mr. Holbrook furnished the following accompaniment.

A NEW SONG, TO AN OLD TUNE.

An old Roman there was, Cincinnatus by name,
Whose furrows were such as a farmer became,
Who, when made a Dictator, regretted his cow,
And longed to re-place his HUGE PAWS on the plough.

His country to save, took a fortnight or more,
When he office resigned, as a burden and bore;
But that which detained him a fortnight away
Our own FURROW TURNERS may do in a day.

*The whig candidates, Davis and Armstrong, were re-elected by a large majority.

Come out from the homestead and rescue the law;
Show the men who outrage it, the size of your PAW:
Take a vote in that nipper, the green sod that digs,
For DAVIS and ARMSTRONG, the Laws, and the WHIGS.

Your fathers were Whigs-alas! many repose

On the field where they died with their face to their foes 'Tis a glorious name—a more glorious thing,

To rescue the laws from a knave or a king.

Leave the plough in the furrow, the cow in the corn,
The cat in the pantry, the milk-maid forlorn,
The grist at the mill, or the meal on the ground,
The pigs in the clover, the ox in the pound.

I honor an ox, I'm a friend to a cow-
But don't stir a pig for the field-driver now;
Let him chew in the pound, like a patriot ox,

While you lay at the polls your HUGE PAW on the Box: November 10, 1834.

In connection with this sketch of a 66

Tempest in a tea-pot" the following letter, sent while this volume was in preparation for the press, may properly be inserted:

Boston, November 14, 1851.

JOSEPH T. BUCKINGHAM, My dear Sir, I remarked to you, that Mr. Holbrook came to my office to consult a volume of Burke, when he was engaged in the preparation of the article containing the notable expression "Huge paw of the farmer," &c. The passage may be found in his "Reflections on the Revolution in France," and is as follows: :- "The Chancellor of France at the opening of the states, said in a tone of oratorical flourish, that all occupations were honorable. If he meant, only, that no honest employment was disgraceful, he would not have gone beyond the truth. But in asserting, that any

thing is honorable, we imply some distinction in its favor. The occupation of a hair-dresser, or of a working tallowchandler, cannot be a matter of honor to any person, to say nothing of a number of other more servile employments. Such descriptions of men ought not to suffer oppression from the state; but the state suffers oppression, if such as they, either individually or collectively, are permitted to rule. In this you think you are combating prejudice, but you are at war with nature." Burke then adds a note, the first portion of which I extract. "Ecclesiasticus, chap 38, verses 24, 25: The wisdom of a learned man cometh by opportunity of leisure; and he that hath little business shall become wise.' 'How can he get wisdom that holdeth the plough, and that glorieth in the goad; that driveth oxen; and is occupied in their labors; and whose talk is of bullocks?""

You see how eminently suggestive these passages were, of the phrase "Huge paw" of the farmer. So much comment was made on it, that the circumstance I have narrated was fixed in my mind, and I have often thought your praise, when I have contemplated your silence under the attacks made upon you for the use of that unlucky phrase by our deceased friend.

Has arrived at last, and in pretty good case. He has been preceded by Major Frost and Colonel Below Zero. The General is rather coarse in some of his pastimes, though in the main a pretty good fellow. He pinches the ears, as Napoleon used to do, and he sometimes takes a man uncivilly by the nose. Whenever he comes he makes all cheerful, unless he stays too long, and his approach is hailed with the ringing of bells.

Old people, however, who remember him seventy years ago, say he begins to fail, that he has shrunk in point of size, and does not sojourn with us so long as formerly. very much to his credit that the children like him,

It is they

surround him on his first appearance and welcome him with shouts.

He will probably remain for a couple of months, at which time his old white cloak will need patching-and his coat will be a good deal out at the elbows.

If our distant readers do not like allegories, or do not understand them, a plain sentence may better inform them that we have had a snow-storm which has covered the earth a foot or more in depth, and which has so drifted that it has made more banks than monopolies, or monsters. The deposites have been promptly removed from the sidewalks.

Our country friends who read "Geoponics," and do them, will have a day's labor, or pastime in breaking out. A cheerful sight it is to see a line of twenty-four yoke of cattle drawing a sled covered with boys, as a ship's bottom with barnacles, so thick that there is not room for another, while twenty red-faced pioneers, with shovels, trace a line through the drifts, or remove their neighbors' landmarks and fences, when the snow is too deep in the road. It is seldom that a Yankee farmer wastes time in joking, but this is an occasion on which he sometimes gives way to that unprofitable pastime. The snow that contracts other things, expands his cheerfulness, and by the time the whitened procession arrives at the mill, the blacksmith's shop, or the meeting-house, there are flying a great many jests and snow-balls, or jokes practical and

theoretical.

Honest souls! may it be long before ye have to make a road to the grave, and when ye do, may it not be by the way of the grog-shop. A farmer in a deep snow is a patriarch, -his family is like that of Noah shut up in the ark, and the animals are in the barn. He goes to bed while it is snowing, and opens his door in the morning upon a snow-drift, eight feet high, or about a foot taller than himself. He seizes his wooden shovel of his own manufacture, three feet square, and cuts a trench to the wood-pile, and in five minutes he has a rousing fire, and the tea-kettle hanging over it for breakfast. He then digs out to his barn, where he finds the old rooster on the great beam crowing, though half covered with snow. The

cattle give him a friendly look, and he returns the salutation. He sets before them, in Bottom's phrase, "a bottle of hay," ("good, sweet hay hath no fellow,") and in five minutes, horses, oxen, cows and yearlings are chewing and grinding, as if for a wager,

O fortunatos nimium sua si bona norint.
How happy would the farmer be,
If all his blessings he could see.

January 1, 1835.

This was the last article written by Mr. Holbrook for the Courier. But I cannot withhold a few more extracts from the productions of his muse, when in her happiest and most cheerful humor, though they stand not in the chronological order of their publication. The first of the pieces which follow was written for the carriers of the Courier and Galaxy, as a New-Year's Address, in 1825. It will be understood that the words printed in small capitals are the names of papers then published in Boston, and those in Italics are the names of the editors. Like all Mr. Holbrook's composition, it was struck off with great rapidity, yet it is by no means deficient in ease, and some of the stanzas exhibit a gracefulness of expression, for which many labor but which few acquire.

THE FEAST OF THE PAPERS.

Songs of Printers, in annual roundelays,
Formed in fancy and uttered in rhyme,

Are sung, not to please young nymphs upon holidays,
But to win for the Carrier dollar and dime.

Buckingham offers to open his coffers,

And a "ragged ten " proffers; (Parnassian fee!) Wherewith invited, this song I indited,

Which, amused and delighted, the reader will see.