Whether he be laughed at, sneered at, sworn
at, the virtue of the mere mention remains the same.
The last we heard from GEORGE FRANCIS, he was, (to use his own choice
language,) "away up here on the Chippewa," beseeching the lumber men,
with all the charm of his inimitable eloquence, to vote him into the
Presidential chair. "I am waking up these boys for 1872," writes the
valuable phenomenon. Unto "millers, rafters, choppers, and jammers,"
this Fountain of Oratory has gushed forth his "four hundred and
twenty-first consecutive Presidential lecture." Imagine a possible scene
upon a raft! GEORGE FRANCIS, mounted upon a whiskey-barrel, is making
all the air resonant with rhetoric. The "rafters" are swearing!
The "choppers" are cursing! The "jammers" are most reprehensibly
blaspheming! The enormous mass floats onward, and "TRAIN!" the floods,
"TRAIN!" the forests, "TRAIN!" the overarching skies resound! No
miserable hall, no narrow street, no "pent-up Utica" contracts the
power of this miraculous elocutionist--his auditorium seems to be a
hemisphere--his audience all mankind! ORPHEUS singing moved rocks
and trees.
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