THERE IS MUSIC ALL AROUND US.

There is music all around us, there is music everywhere. There is no

music so sweet to the American ear as the music of politics. There is

nothing that kindles the zeal of a modern patriot to a whiter heat than

the prospect of an office; there is nothing that cools it off so quickly

as the fading out of that prospect.

I stood on the stump in Tennessee as a candidate for Governor, and thus

I cut my eagle loose: "Fellow Citizens, we live in the grandest country

in the world. It stretches

From Maine's dark pines and crags of snow

To where magnolia breezes blow;

It stretches from the Atlantic Ocean on the east, to the Pacific Ocean

on the west"--and an old fellow jumped up in my crowd and threw his hat

in the air and shouted: "Let 'er stretch, durn 'er--hurrah for the

Dimocrat Party."

An old Dutchman had a beautiful boy of whom he was very proud; and

he decided to find out the bent of his mind. He adopted a very novel

method by which to test him. He slipped into the little fellow's room

one morning and placed on his table a Bible, a bottle of whiskey, and

a silver dollar. "Now," said he, "Ven dot boy comes in, ef he dakes dot

dollar, he's goin' to be a beeznis man; ef he dakes dot Bible he'll

be a breacher; ef he dakes dot vwiskey, he's no goot--he's goin' to

be a druenkart." and he hid behind the door to see which his son would

choose. In came the boy whistling. He ran up to the table and picked up

the dollar and put it in his pocket; he picked up the Bible and put it

under his arm; then he snatched up the bottle of whiskey and took two or

three drinks, and went out smacking his lips. The old Dutchman poked his

head out from behind the door and exclaimed: "Mine Got--he's goin' to be

a bolitician."

There is no music like the music of political discussion. I have heard

almost a thousand political discussions. I heard the great debate

between Blaine and Ben Hill; I heard the angry coloquies between Roscoe

Conkling and Lamar; I have heard them on down to the humblest in the

land. But I prefer to give you a scrap of one which occurred in my own

native mountains. It was a race for the Legislature in a mountain county,

between a straight Democrat and a straight Republican. The mountaineers

had gathered at the county site to witness the great debate. The

Republican spoke first. He was about six feet two in his socks, as slim

as a bean pole, with a head about the size of an ordinary tin cup and

very bald, and he lisped. Webster in all his glory in the United States

Senate never appeared half so great or half so wise. Thus he opened the

debate:

"F-e-l-l-o-w T-h-i-t-i-t-h-e-n-s: I come befo' you to-day ath a

Republikin candidate, fer to reprethent you in the lower branch uv

the Legithlachah. And, fellow thitithens, ef I thould thay thumpthin

conthernin' my own carreckter, I hope you will excuthe me. I sprung frum

one of the humbletht cabins in all thith lovely land uv thweet liberty;

and many a mornin' I have jumped out uv my little trundle bed onto the

puncheon floor, and pulled the splinterth and the bark off uv the wall

of our 'umble cabin, for to make a fire for my weakley parenth. Fellow

thitithenth, I never had no chanthe. All that I am to-day I owe to my

own egtherthionth!! and that aint all. When the cloud of war thwept like

a bethom of destructhion over this land uv thweet liberty, me and my

connecthion thouldered our musketh and marched forth on the bloody

battlefield to fight for your thweet liberty! Fellow thitithenth, if you

can trust me in the capathity uv a tholjer, caint you trust me in the

capathity uv the Legithlature? I ask my old Dimocrat competitor for to

tell you whar he wath when war shook thith continent from its thenter to

its circumputh! I have put thith quethtion to him on every stump, and

he's ath thilent ath an oysthter. Fellow citithenth, I am a Republikin

from printhiple. I believe in every thing the Republikin Party has

ever done, and every thing the Republikin Party ever expecthts to do.

Fellow thitithenth, I am in favor of a high protective tarriff for the

protecthion of our infant induthtreth which are only a hundred yearth

old; and fellow thitithenth, I am in favor of paying of a penthun to

every tholjer that fit in the Federal army, while he lives, and after

hethe dead, I'm in favor of paying uv it to hith Exthecutor or hith

Adminithtrator."

He took his seat amid great applause on the Republican side of the

house, and the old Democrat who was a much older man, came forward

like a roaring lion, to join issue in the great debate, and thus he

"joined:"

"Feller Citerzuns, I come afore you as a Dimocrat canderdate, fur to

ripresent you in the lower branch of the house of the Ligislator. And

fust and fomust, hit becomes my duty fer to tell you whar I stand on the

great queshtuns which is now a-agitatin' of the public mind! Fust an'

fomust, feller citerzuns, I am a Dimocrat inside an' out, up one side

an' down tother, independent defatigly. My competitor axes me whar I wuz

endurin' the war--Hit's none uv his bizness whar I wuz. He says he wuz

a-fightin' fer yore sweet liberty. Ef he didn't have no more sense than

to stand before them-thar drotted bung-shells an' cannon, that's his

bizness, an' hit's my bizness whar I wuz. I think I have answered him

on that pint.

"Now, feller citerzuns, I'll tell you what I'm fur. I am in favor uv

payin' off this-here drotted tariff an' stoppin' of it; an' I'm in favor

of collectin' jist enuf of rivenue fur to run the Government ekernomical

administered, accordin' to Andy Jackson an' the Dimocrat flatform. My

competitor never told you that he got wounded endurin' the war. Whar did

he git hit at? That's the pint in this canvass. He got it in the back,

a-leadin' of the revance guard on the retreat--that's whar he got it."

This charge precipitated a personal encounter between the candidates,

and the meeting broke up in a general battle, with brickbats and tan

bark flying in the air.

It would be difficult, for those reared amid the elegancies and

refinements of life in city and town, to appreciate the enjoyments of

the gatherings and merry-makings of the great masses of the people who

live in the rural districts of our country. The historian records the

deeds of the great; he consigns to fame the favored few; but leaves

unwritten the short and simple annals of the poor--the lives and actions

of the millions.

The modern millionaire, as he sweeps through our valleys and around our

hills in his palace car, ought not to look with derision on the cabins

of America, for from their thresholds have come more brains and courage

and true greatness than ever eminated from all the palaces of this

world.

The fiddle, the rifle, the axe, and the Bible, symbolizing music,

prowess, labor, and free religion, the four grand forces of our

civilization, were the trusty friends and faithful allies of our

pioneer ancestry in subduing the wilderness and erecting the great

Commonwealths of the Republic. Wherever a son of freedom pushed his

perilous way into the savage wilds and erected his log cabin, these were

the cherished penates of his humble domicile--the rifle in the rack

above the door, the axe in the corner, the Bible on the table, and the

fiddle with its streamers of ribbon, hanging on the wall. Did he need

the charm of music, to cheer his heart, to scatter sunshine, and drive

away melancholy thoughts, he touched the responsive strings of his

fiddle and it burst into laughter. Was he beset by skulking savages, or

prowling beasts of prey, he rushed to his deadly rifle for protection

and relief. Had he the forest to fell, and the fields to clear, his

trusty axe was in his stalwart grasp. Did he need the consolation, the

promises and precepts of religion to strengthen his faith, to brighten

his hope, and to anchor his soul to God and heaven, he held sweet

communion with the dear old Bible.

The glory and strength of the Republic today are its plain working

people.

"Princes and Lords may flourish and may fade,

A breath can make them, as a breath has made;

But an honest yeomanry--a Country's pride,

When once destroyed, can never be supplied;"

Long live the common people of America! Long live the fiddle and the

bow, the symbols of their mirth and merriment!