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MICHIGAN, MY MICHIGAN MAJ. W. C. RANSOM, 1871
Down went Governor and jumper, on came Canucks and pung, and before either were fully aware of the situation, there was a crash, a smash, and a wreck. Disastrously to executive dignity, the Canucks came on top, and, in the twinkling of an eye, sent his excellency spinning, head first, into a snow-drift, a dozen feet away. But notwithstanding his youth, our old State was justly proud of its first governor. He was tall and handsome. His eyes, bright and beaming with intelligence, seemed to mirror the restless spirit that animated his being. Dark, waving hair fell in rich clusters over his intellectual forehead, while his commanding presence and polished manners, at once challenged the admiration of those who were so fortunate as to have his acquaintance.
But the transcendent abilities of this promising young man were destined to be early lost to his beloved State. In the full blush of early manhood, he
was claimed by the destroyer, and passed away from earth, regretted and beloved. Time" and your patience do not permit me to speak at length of his successors. There was the venerable Woodbridge, he who led the first political campaign for reform, of which the people said they could not see it. Old John S. Barry, as shrewd and economical an old Yankee as ever came from the sheep pastures of Vermont, he who mowed the State-house yard, sold the hay, and put the money in the treasury. The talented Felch, and Epaphroditus Ransom, who wrote a Thanksgiving message once so remarkable for Its" brevity that Shillaber Partington, of the Boston Post, said of it, that the message was a remarkable document, for the reason that it was shorter than the governor's name.
MY MICHIGAN
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