University of Virginia Library

11. LETTER XI.

Major Downing's Official Correspondence with
“The Government.”

From the Daily Advertiser of 21st September, 1833.

Dear Gineral,—When I wrote to you
from Philadelphy on 10th, I thought I would
go next day to York; but I got a letter from
our old friend Zekel Bigelow, lettin me know
he was there, and snookin about the Banks,
and among the Brokers in Wall-street, and
that by the time I come here, he could tell me
pretty much all about it in a minit. He said
the whole business was in a nut shell, and
he'd crack it. So I didn't hurry on, but kept
myself busy in Philadelphy, putting things
to rights there; for I thought if I could git
the mud out of the spring, we should have
clear water arterwards. I didn't get here till
yesterday. The folks wanted me to land at
Castle Garden, but I thought I wouldn't, seeing
that them'ere string pieces came so nigh

puttin an cend to `The Goverment' a spell
ago.

The first man I met in the crowd was Zekel.
He was waitin for me, and he looked as
natural as ever. The crowd was so great, I
was eny most mashed to a slab. All on'em
callin out, `there's the Major'—and all wantin
to shake hands with me, and to know how
you was, and what was goin to be done with
the Bank. Some fellers had ony one shoe
on, and eny most no shirt—and they too
wanted to know about the Bank. I never see
sich a mess of fellers as they have here all the
while: there is all kind of critters, jamming
and scrouging folks, and one another; they
don't seem to do nothin, and half on'em think,
when we come to nock the Bank down, they
are to git the mony.

Zekel and I went as soon as we could git
through'em, straight to the tavern where we
all on us put up a spell ago; and then says I,
`Zekel, we must spring to it, and let the Gineral
know, as soon as we can, all about mony
matters here.'

`Well,' says he, `Major, I'll tell you pretty
much all about it; and its jest as true now as
the sun.' And with that he slick'd his hair

down from his eye-brows clean to the eend of
his kew, and went at it.

Zekel has got a curious notion of tellin a
thing—he begins away back to a b abb's, and
then he comes up along, and ev'ry once and a
while he gives his head and hair a slicken
down, and he is so earnest, and looks as if he
could see right through an inch plank. I
couldn't tell you one half he said, if I was to
write a week about it. I'll only tell you a
little here and there—he says there is two
kinds of mony; hard mony and paper mony.
One is always good; and the other is sometimes
good, and then agin it ain't good for
nothin.

He says, there is jist about so much hard
mony all the while—and it keeps goin round
and round, all about creation; and they git the
most on't who are the most industrious and
cute in inventin things. He says that paper
mony is jest as good, and a leetle better than
hard mony, if folks don't shell out too much
on't: and the natur of paper-mony makers is
always to git off as much as they can, and if it
warn't for somethin to check it, it would be as
bad as old continental times.

He says, there is two ways to make mony

scarce—one is by sendin hard mony away
out of the country, to pay for notions we can't
pay for any other way; and the other is, by
sending Amos Kindle round tellin folks `The
Goverment' is goin to do something, folks
don't know exactly what, nor he nuther.

Then ev'ry body grabs all he can git, and
holds on; and things are jest as bad as if there
wasn't `no money:' and then the Brokers go
at it, and lather and shave—says they, `can
only give you a little'—`hard times'—the fellows
figer interest for an hour as easy as nothin,
and jest so with the pottecarys—only tell
the folks Kolery is comin, and they go at it
mixin Paragoric and Kamfire; and chalk it up
like gold dust.

Zekel says on the hull, that mony matters
and Banks, and trade, is all as curious as one
of Bissel's clocks; and folks hadn't ought to
meddle in regelatin or alterin on't, without
knowin all about it. `And now,' says he,
`Major, I'm a good mine to spile my watch,
to show you my notion why I think trouble
will come if the Gineral nocks down the U.S.
Bank.'

Zekel is one of them'ere folks, and always
was, who would spile a horn, or make a

spoon; and with that he out with his old
watch, as big as a tea cup, wound her up, and
then clapt her to my ear. `She is as true,'
says he, `as the tides.' He then opened it—
`Now', says he, `Major, do you see that 'ere
chain pullin all the while? and then do you
see a lot of little wheels, and springs, and
screws? And here on top is a big wheel,
that's all the while goin round one way, and
back agin, and jest so fast and no faster,—
that's the clicker,' says he, `and if it warn't for
that, you'd see trouble in it, and I'll show you
—but I know it will all go to bits—and so he
twitched out the big wheel, and the old watch
did whiz, I tell you. Some of them leetle
wheels went so fast, you couldn't see nothin.
One keel'd up, and another got sum teeth
nock'd out—she stopp'd a spell, then a spring
snapp'd, and whiz it went agin, and the splinters
flew, and by-and-by it all stop'd; and
Zekel gin his kew another slickin—and says
he, `Major, we've spoil'd the old watch; but
I don't value the loss on't, seein you got a notion
by it'—and with that he scraped it all together,
and wrapp'd it up in the Washington
Globe—`there,' says he, `Major, send that to
`The Government,' and tell the Gineral there
is more there than folks think on, who want
to meddle with Banks and mony matters;
and to-morrow we'll go into Wall-street, and
you'll see all I tell'd you is jest so'—and then
we took a glass of switchel and went to bed.