Hum-m-m, Bur-r-r, num-m-m — Hum-m-m Bug. Greatly to our astonishment, while sitting immersed in a “cogibundity of cogitation,” in our sanctum, we were aroused by a humming and a buzzing, and amidst “the noise and confusion,” discovered before us upon the table, the distinguished bug whose likeness adorns these pages. To our extraordinary presence of mind, aided by a pair of tweezers, is our artist indebted for the opportunity of making immortal this very rare, and not yet quite done bug of North American growth, and we fearlessly challenge the world to produce its equal. “The age of chivalry has past;” the age is now decidedly humbugeous; so mote it be.

We have been in company of big bugs before now; nay, we have actually been honored with a friendly grip, which, politically speaking, is only intended for a feeler, and have been much exalted in our estimation by the condescension: but we confess to a feeling of admiration, almost amounting to reverence, for this noble specimen.

By a reference to a small pamphlet now before us, we are informed that this Bug came into the world on the fifth day of July, 1810. Its birth-place was in a village, in that most celebrated portion of the New England States, famous, among many things, for the aroma of its wooden nutmegs, and the delicious flavor of its hams, which, aided by a plentiful garnishing of Wethersfield onions, have been known to bring tears into the eyes of their producers; a satirical friend of ours observes, they are tears of joy, consequent upon a good trade upon the outsiders.

Very different, however, are the “tears which fall from beauty's eye,” viz : the purchaser, upon the discovery of the pious fraud of the children of Noah upon Ham; for after the first emotions of their grief have subsided, they would, without remorse, in their rasher mood inflict a punishment, which the deceiver, by a rapid flight, eludes, and thus saves his bacon.

After these few preliminary remarks, need we say to the reader, that the glorious little State we refer to is Connecticut, so famous, also, for its stringent code of laws, by which men were forbidden to kiss their wives, and beer to work on the Sabbath.

The career of this Bug during its early years, was singularly unfortunate; in fact, its legitimate efforts to arrive at a comfortable position in life, proved to be only a Jium. Discovering that the bent of its genius did not lie in the beaten path of the world, after three unsuccessful attempts to “put money in its purse,” and fired with ambition at the dazzling career of the distinguished “Gnome Fly,” sometimes called Hervio Nano, it vaulted into the saddle of popular gullibility, by engaging the celebrated war chief, of the renowned tribe of the “Boohoojahs,” to display before the delighted eyes of the citizens of Quattlebum, in “Elysian Fields,” the noble sport of the hunt of the wild Buffaloes.

Having in this instance taken the Bull by the horns successfully, (the only kind of JiornSj we believe, it has ever been known to take,) it made another bold speculation, by an adventure in wool, the result of which was the production of two splendid specimens, viz : “The Aged Servant of Washington,” and the “Woolly Horse.” The verity that should characterize the biographer, calls upon us to say, that the latter was the most unparalleled instance of a belief in the credibility of the age, ever heard of in history. This generous confidence in human nature, we regret to state, was met at the very threshold by doubt, and by an universal cry from an indignant public, of “No Quarters;” a species of insult our ingenious inventor could not brook, and therefore withdrew it from the public eye, in the hope that posterity would do it justice, and some future Macaulay chronicle it as the most stupendous, if not, like the celebrated Trojan horse, the most successful “squizzle” of its day.

Master of the great secrets of Nature, for which the Rosicruscians toiled and died, leaving no sign, he exhibited to the admiring citizens of the model Republic, the extraordinary fact of the possession of a power by which he was enabled to revivify the worn out elements of humanity, and thus sustain for a series of years, the venerable Joice Heth, whose original bones lie entombed in various States of the Union. So successful was he, that notwithstanding the great original several times paid the debt of nature, he was enabled by his wonderful skill to re-produce her anew. What was the nature of this astonishing power, we are unable to say; we can only surmise. Was it in truth an occult science, won from the mighty dead by wizard spells and muttered conjurations beneath moonlit gibbets? or was it the mighty power of music, which he has since evoked so successfully, and which in ancient times brought back Eurydice from Hades ? Orpheus, we are told, did this by the aid of a lyre, (the liar, however, we suspect to have been his biographer,) and may not his mantle have fallen upon our Bug ? True it is, we have been informed, our ingenious friend does not possess the power to turn a tune, although he has shown his ability to turn the heads of “Yankee Doodle.”

We incline to the opinion that this information is incorrect, and as lyres are not used at the present time, except as bill posters, it is to be supposed the instruments upon which he discoursed such eloquent music, were the Ethiopian Bones. Incredulity has suggested, that more than one “Venerable Old Nigger” served the turn of this shrewd philosopher; that her appearance at various stages of her career was different, there being a general resemblance in the decrepitude of the body, but not in the human face divine, other than that family likeness which “old darkies” bear to each other; but this is at once put to flight by the fact, that when other and greater speculations were opened unto him, he parted with her to a brother Bug, in whose hands she soon sickened and died. We must therefore infer that the secret of his power did not pass by delivery of the corpus, as he was heard one day to exclaim in a fit of indignation, “that he (the brother Bug,) didn’t know his business, or he would have been able to have kept her alive for another hundred years.”

It has struck us as a singular coincidence in the lives of great men, that they all have some “ancient tree,” which is endeared to them by many tender recollections. We read of them in history, from the retreat of Tusculum to the no less classic grounds of Marshfield; to that lair where the huge monster of intellectual power retires from the strife and turmoil of political warfare, to “hook codfish,” and indulge in “chowder,” interchanging those lively pursuits with deep speculations into the future, scenting afar off the coming of the storm, which threatens to whelm the ship of State, with the keenness of the seafarer, whose life has been one long undaunted struggle with the ocean wave; gathering anew his energies for the day when the nation's voice once again calls loudly on him jn the hour of trouble and dismay, to go down, in the diving bells of thought, into the angry waters of agitation and discontent, to bring from thence the pearls of great constitutional truths, to be scattered broadcast over the political surface, and allay the waters which are ever rising to the lips of the helmsman, waters more bitter than those of Marah.*

Our bug, as we learn from his pamphlet, also had his tree, planted by his forefathers, and many a joyous hour had he rolled and tumbled beneath its shade; it is a fine trait in his character, that in the day of his prosperity, he did not forget to adorn anew the home of his early years, nor cease to remember the affections and comfort of her who made the spot a sacred and a loved one.

We know not if our bug, like Wolsey, “has touched the highest point of all his greatness;” certainly it might be supposed, that beyond the successes of the immortal Thumb, human ingenuity could no farther go, or a career of “Fortune's Frolics” surpass that of the fair Swede. He may have reached his culminating point, but we doubt it; perhaps the desire to excel the renowned Gliddon, may induce him to enter the field against him, and if he cannot exceed him in his devotion to his “Mummy,” he may yet astonish us by transporting hither on some fine sun-shiny morning, the Pyramid of Cheops as his offering to the national monument to be erected to the Father of his Country.

Our subject has become almost too vast for contemplation, we may be pardoned, therefore, if in conclusion we indulge in a vision of the future. Who can foretell the result of this indomitable energy upon posterity? The time may come when the “Expectorant” and the “Carminative,” now so celebrated, may be forgotten, and the massive edifice now occupied by Dr. Jayne, be purchased by a grateful people, as a mausoleum for the remains of the immortal Phineas; yea, when the present powerful dominions of the world shall be merged in the great model Republic, then shall come from all the ends of the earth, the pilgrim hordes to the New Jerusalem of their faith; and some future Gliddon, standing upon the tower now consecrated to “Tonics” and “Hair Oils,” astounded at the results of his investigations into the dimness of the past, filled with admiration of the extraordinary merits of this scintillating Bug of the nineteenth century, may shout aloud unto the assembled multitude, hanging upon the “eloquence of his lips,” in the language of a celebrated barbarian poet of the sixteenth century.

“This was the greatest Humbug of them all.”

W. A. S.

* A competent person to fill a “Consulship,” may be found at this office: Address, post paid, to the Publisher.