ing themselves under the HARRISON BANNER! The tomahawk was then bur ied; after which the string of the latch was pushed out, and the Harbor-Creek ers were ushered into the Cabin, where they pledged their support to HarriBon in a bumper of good old hard cider."

The great joker of that election, as of every other since, was Mr. Prentice, of the Louisville Journal, the wittiest of editors, living or dead. Many of his good things appear in the Log Cabin, but most of them allude to men and events that have been forgotten, and the point of the joke is lost. The following are three of the Log Cabin jokes; they sparkled in 1840, flat as they may seem now:

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"The Globe says that there are but two parties in the country, the poor man's party and the rich man's party,' and that 'Mr. Van Puren is the friend of the former.' The President is certainly in favor of strengthening the poor man's party, numerically! He goes for impoverishing the whole country— except the office-holders."

"What do the locofocos expect by vilifying the Log Cabin? Do they not know that a Log Cabin is all the better for being daubed with mud ?"

"A whig passing through the streets of Boston a few mornings ago, espied a custom-house officer gazing ruefully at a bulletin displaying the latest news of the Maine election. 'Ah! Mr. -, taking your bitters this morning, I see.' The way the loco scratched gravel was a pattern for sub-treasurers."

One specimen paragraph from the department of political news will suffice to show the frenzy of those who wrote for it. A letterwriter at Utica, describing a 'mass meeting' in that city, bursts upon his readers in this style:

"This has been the proudest, brightest day of my life! Never-no, never, have I before seen the people in their majesty! Never were the foundations of popular sentiment so broken up! The scene from early dawn to sunset, has been one of continued, increasing, bewildering enthusiasm. The hearts of TWENTY-FIVE THOUSAND FREEMEN have been overflowing with gratitude, and gladness, and joy. It has been a day of jubilee-an ERA OF DELIVERANCE FOR CENTRAL NEW YORK! The people in waves have poured in from the valleys and rushed down from the mountains. The city has been vocal with eloquence, with music, and with acclamations. Demonstrations of strength, and em blems of victory, and harbingers of prosperity are all around us, cheering and animating, and assuring a people who are finally and effectually aroused. I will not now attempt to describe the procession of the people. Suffice it to say that

* *

there was an ocean of them! The procession was over FIVE MILES LONG. * Governor Seward and Lieut. Gov. Bradish were unanimously nominated by resolution for re-election. The result was communicated to the people assembled in MASS in Chancery Square, whose response to the nomination was spontaneous, loud, deep and resounding."

The profusion of the presidential mansion was one of the standing topics of those who wished to eject its occupant. In one number of the Log-Cabin is a speech, delivered in the House of Representatives by a member of the opposition, in which the bills of the persons who supplied the White House are given at length. Take these specimens:

This seems like putting an extremely fine point upon a political ar gument. What the orator wished to show, however, was, that suck. articles as the above ought to be paid for out of the presidential salary, not the public treasury. The speech exhibited some columns of these 'house-bills.' It made a great sensation, and was enough to cure any decent man of a desire to become a servant of the people.

A very

But, as I have observed, Gen. Harrison was sung into the presi dential chair. The Log Cabin preserves a large number of the political ditties of the time; the editor himself contributing two. few stanzas will suffice to show the quality of the Tippecanoe poetry The following is one from the 'Wolverine's Song':

We know that Van Buren can ride in his coach,
With servants, forbidding the Vulgar's approach-
We know that his fortune such things will allow,
And we know that our candidate follows the plough;
But what if he does? Who was bolder to fight
In his country's defense on that perilous night,
When naught save his valor sufficed to subdue
Our foes at the battle of Tippecanoe ?

Hurrah for Tippecanoe !
He dropped the red Locos at Tippecanoe!

From the song of the 'Buckeye Cabin,' these are two stanzas:

Oh! where, tell me where, was your Buckeye Cabin made?
Oh! where, tell me where, was your Buckeye Cabin made?
'Twas made among the merry boys that wield the plough and spade
Where the Log Cabins stand in the bonnie Buckeye shade.

Oh! what, tell me what, is to be your Cabin's fate?
Oh! what, tell me what, is to be your Cabin's fate?
We'll wheel it to the Capitol and place it there elate,
For a token and a sign of the bonnie Buckeye State.

The Turn Out Song' was very popular, and easy to sing:

From the White House, now Matty, turn out, turn out,
From the White House, now Matty, turn out!

Since there you have been

But of all the songs ever sung, the most absurd and the most tell. ing, was that which began thus

What has caused this great commotion-motion-motion
Our country through?

It is the ball a-rolling on

For Tippecanoe and Tyler too,
For Tippecanoe and Tyler too;
And with them we 'll beat little Van;

Van, Van, Van is a used-up man,
And with them we 'll beat little Van.

This song had two advan ages. The tune-half chant, half jig-was adapted to bring out all the absurdities of the words, and, in particular, those of the last two lines. The second advantage was, that stanzas could be multiplied to any extent, on the spot, to suit the exigences of any occasion. For example:

"The beautiful girls, God bless their souls, souls, souls,

The country through,

Will all, to a man, do all they can
For Tippecanoe and Tyler too;
And with them," etc., etc.

During that summer, ladies attended the mass meetings in thousands, and in their honor the lines just quoted were frequently sung.

These few extracts from the Log Cabin show the nature of the element in which our editor was called upon to work in the hot months of 1840. His own interest in the questions at issue was intense, and his labors were incessant and most arduous. He wrote articles, he made speeches, he sat on committees, he traveled, he gave advice, he suggested plans; while he had two newspapers on his hands, and a load of debt upon his shoulders. His was a willing servitude. From the days of his apprenticeship he had observed the course of 'Democratic' administrations with disgust and utter disapproval, and he had borne his full share of the consequences of their bad measures. His whole soul was in this contest. He fought fairly too. His answer to a correspondent, that 'articles assailing the personal character of Mr. Van Buren or any of his supporters cannot be published in the Cabin,' was in advance of the politics of 1840.

One scene, if it could be portrayed on the printed page as visibly as it exists in the memories of those who witnessed it, would show

better than declaratory words, how absorbed Mr. Greeley was in politics during this famous 'campaign.' It is a funny story, and literally true.

Time,-Sunday evening. Scene,-the parlor of a friend's house. Company,―numerous and political, except the ladies, who are gracious and hospitable. Mr. Greeley is expected to tea, but does not come, and the mea. is transacted without him. Tea over, he arrives, and plunges headlong into a conversation on the currency. The lady of the house thinks he had better take some tea,' but cannot get a hearing on the subject; is distressed, puts the question at length, and has her invitation hurriedly declined; brushed aside, in fact, with a wave of the hand.

·

"Take a cruller, any way," said she, handing him a cake-basket containing a dozen or so of those unspeakable, Dutch indigestibles.

The expounder of the currency, dimly conscious that a large object was approaching him, puts forth his hands, still vehemently talking, and takes, not a cruller, but the cake-basket, and deposits it in his lap. The company are inwardly convulsed, and some of the weaker members retire to the adjoining apartment, the expounder continuing his harangue, unconscious of their emotions or its cause. Minutes elapse. His hands, in their wandering through the air, come in contact with the topmost cake, which they take and break. He begins to eat; and eats and talks, talks and eats, till he has finished a cruller. Then he feels for another, and eats that, and goes on, slowly consuming the contents of the basket, till the last crum is gone. The company look on amazed, and the kind lady of the house fears for the consequences. She had heard that cheese is an antidote to indigestion. Taking the empty cakebasket from his lap, she silently puts a plate of cheese in its place, hoping that instinct will guide his hand aright. The experiment succeeds. Gradually, the blocks of white new cheese disappear. She removes the plate. No ill consequences follow. Those who saw this sight are fixed in the belief, that Mr. Greeley was not then, nor has since become, aware, that on that evening he partook of sustenance.

The reader, perhaps, has concluded that the prodigious sale of the Log Cabin did something to relieve our hero from his pecuniary embarrassments. Such was not the fact He paid some debts