THE NEW YEAR’S ADDRESS
The Carrier of The Compiler.
Jan. 1, 1861.
I am here again this morning —
Is the Carrier “all forlorn,” —
To give you all fair warning
That another year is born.
I am weary, very weary,
And my heart is almost broken;
Ah! this world is very dreary
Without a friendly token.
I have come again to greet you,
And to drive your cares away,
And, my friends, I hope to meet you
In a brighter, happier day.
But there is a certain matter
That pains me very much:
Just present me with a Quarter,
And my feelings you will touch.
All hail! all hail! auspicious day!
Thou day of joy and gladness!
Thou hast returned to chase away
Our sorrow and our sadness.
Without thee, what were life on earth
But one grand scene of trouble?
Without thee, all our moral worth
Were but an empty bubble.
Another twelvemonth has gone by
Since last we has a New Year,
Another season has drawn nigh
When we should make good cheer.
Said one of old — and he well knew, —
“There is a time for all things,”
So let us then our duty do,
And condescend to small things.
O, how many weary journeys
Has the Carrier made through town,
With his brief for lean Attorneys,
And his nonsense for the Clown.
With his “Markets” for the Merchant,
And his “Married” for the single;
With his “Deaths” for skillful Doctors,
And his Stories a la Cringle.
In return for this great favor
It is me?t that you should buy
An Address from this young shaver,
And light up his youthful eye.
In the year that’s just departed,
Oh, how many ties were riven;
Oh, how may plans were thwarted,
and how many farewells given!
The deed is done! let angels weep,
And clothe themselves in mourning;
Our blessed UNION now is rent, —
Let future States take warning.
Distracted are the councils now
Of our beloved nation —
There’s trouble in the workshop North,
And on the South plantation.
Our fate no human eye can see,
Whether weal? or woe shall come, —
May kind Heaven keep in peace and free,
This broad land — for all a home.
Black Republicans are making
A terrible commotion;
When asleep, and when they’re waking,
They hold the foolish notion, —
That the glorious Constitution,
Which our wise ancestors framed,
Is a useless institution,
And ere long will be disclaimed;
That there’s a “higher law” than all, —
The “law” of anti-slavery; —
A “law” involving Freedom’s fall,
Ignoring all true bravery.
Image from MIT
The Japanese — that jealous race —
Who live beyond the oceans,
Came over here, with friendly face,
And brought us sundry notions.
Image from Lock Haven University (Bob Sandow)
The fairest one of all the Japs
Was one whose name was Tommy;
The ladies slyly gave him slaps, —
They loved this little Tommy.
But the wonder of the season
Was that great and mighty ship,
Which, for no especial reason,
(Ere she made her trial trip.)
The English named Great Eastern, Sirs,
Regarded as a sailer,
It may in truth be said that hers
Is quite a total failure.
But hark! a sound that charms the ear,
‘Tis music on the waters;
The Prince of Wales is coming here
To court our Yankee daughters.
See! how lightly through each figure
Of the gay and sprightly dance
Trips the Prince, with all the vigor,
Of an Emperor of France.
To have a tilt at this young lion
The ladies all were eager;
But their chances for the English cion
Are very, very meagre.
Old Jenkins says that some e’en went
And kissed him for his mother, —
That certain damsels kindly sent
Some sweetmeats to his brother.
Image from Seaford Photographers
Of our town and its improvements
It behooves me next to sing,
And recount the movements
That were made since early Spring.
First and foremost in importance
Is the Gas we burn at night;
Would you raise a great discordance?
Just deprive us of this light.
The richest thanks that we can give
Are due to the contractor,
For long as these Gas Works shall live,
He is our benefactor.
The population of our “city,”
By the Census M.’s return,
It two thousand ccc, ninety, —
Cut that rhyme will hardly turn.
The Railroad still is doing fine,
And daily making money;
But where it goes, should I divine?
And that seems rather funny.
Whichever way our eyes we cast
New buildings meet our view;
The outskirts of our town, at last,
Are growing wider too.
The Court House now is finished quite,
Surmounted by its steeple;
The town-clock too keeps going right,
Keeps going for the people.
Our County still is right side up, —
Vide how the “Star” men squirm, —
Except that Mister Mo?? fried up
To serve another term.
What he will do in these two years
We can’t with safety say;
He may (or not) shed copious tears,
And see about his pay.
Yes, more may this young member do; —
He’ll aid Covode & Co., —
He doubtless will spit out a few
Harangues for sake of show.
‘Twas said that Becker could not fail
The Sheriff to become;
But Samuel Wolf was sent to jail,
And Becker staid at home.
Old Metzgar said that he would bet
That Wolf said so and so,
By which he thought some votes to get,
But is was all no go.
Though Bailey and Martin outrun
Gentlemen of high desert,
We Eichholtz and Gardner won,
Millet, Pfoutz and Dysert.
Image from House Divided – Dickinson College
The field of November was gained
By Abe and his “Wide Awake” force —
The Union, thus struck at and maim’d,
Is stopped in its onward course.
Let patriots pause — think and pause!
By justice let peril be stayed —
In fairness and love let the laws,
ALL, be fully obeyed.
So now, my friends, I leave you,
I leave you with regret;
May naught occur to grieve you,
Or in any manner mar the pleasures not only of this festal day, but also of the year upon which we have just entered. Through the evil actions and still worse counsels of a certain dare-devil party of the North, rendered desperate by the desire of plunder, our once glorious country, purchased by the blood of many of Freedom’s gallant souls, is now rent in twain. That kind Heaven may avert the dangers that now menace us, and disperse the black and ominous clouds which obscure our political, social and financial atmosphere, is the earnest with of THE CARRIER.
The Compiler (Gettysburg, Pennsylvania) Jan 7, 1861
Henry J. Stahle photo essay: Gettysburg Daily website