l50 THE FOGY DAYS AI^D NOW 1 



had constructed in the azure skies of paper calculation ; told 

 us of his fond devotion to that gay coquet, Miss Delila Cot- 

 ton, and how he had been blinded by her charms and had 

 yielded to her fascinations; how he had tripped the fantastic 

 toe with her in the mazy dances of fortune, whirled with her 

 in the dizzy waltzes of speculation, gyrated in the polkas and 

 highland flings, cut pigeon-wings, and went through all the 

 fancy steps of anticipation, and how the heartless flirt had 

 tantalized him with false hopes and at last had cruelly deserted 

 him — flung him off: and then he told us that his eye-teeth 

 were now cut. Ah ! brethren, brethren, how many of us have 

 had our poor pates lured into this same false Delila's lap, and 

 have been deceitfully shorn of our precious locks, and awoke 

 only to find our former strength departed; and, alas! how 

 many of our noblest sires, too, like yours, Mr, President, 

 frosted with the experience of many crops, have been capti- 

 vated by her smiles and made her willing dupes. 



'Tis said that "there is a tide in the affairs of men, which, 

 when taken at the flood, leads on to fortune." That fortnne, 

 my brethren, has not ebbed in on the flood-tide of cotton 

 which is surely drifting us into poverty. 



But it is human to err. Let us give over the wild chase — 

 cease to follow the willo'-the-wisp; let us go back to good old 

 Uncle Corn once more, and to our more reliable country cous- 

 ins, the Misses Oats, Peas and Pumpkins. We know their 

 friendship ; 'tis tried and true. 



Look around us and behold the common wreck. Debt and 

 bankruptcy are sinking the hearts of men into the dark and 

 turbid waters of despondency. Where are the honest, joviaj 

 faces we were wont to see in days of yore? Gone glimmer- 

 ing among the things that were, and in their stead we see, at 



