University of Virginia Library

18. LETTER XVIII.

Flattering prospects of the President's Message—
Indian Rights and Wrongs.

The Congressmen are jest beginnin to arrive
here, and I suppose in a short time we
shall have them here as thick as huckleberries;
and the Gineral is brushin round now, and
says the Message must be finished and painted
off hand, and we are all as busy as bees in
gittin it dove-tailed together; and after next
week, the Gineral says, there can't be any
more alterations. It is the first Message I
ever had any hand in; and tho' I say it, I
guess you will say it is about as complete a
thing as ever was sent express anywhere.

I have been to work on it ever since we
was at the Rip-Raps; and tho' it has been
all pulled to bits, to git in some notions, we
didn't think on, yet it will look pretty slick,
I tell you, when it's done; and we will lay

on paint enuff to kiver up all the cracks and
seams.

We shall give a pretty good lick at the
Bank, and won't leave as much on't standin
as would make a good sized oven. It is
curius now to see how easy it is to build up,
or nock all to bits, any thing on paper. Now
jest see about the Bank—there it stands in
Chesnut-street, with its hundred cord of specie,
and its cart-load of books; and its branches
here and there, and all busy, and full of clarks
and directors, and folks in Europe, and all
about creation dealin with it; and the Brokers
in Wall-street all busy about it: and Biddle's
bills goin about, and most folks thinkin they
are better than hard dollars; and all the old
men and women holdin the stock, supposin it
will go up agin as high as they paid for it;
and I, and the Gineral, and Amos Kindle, and
Mr. Van Buren talkin over it—and one line
in the Message nocks it all into kindlin-wood.
For, you see, when `the Goverment' says a
thing must be jest so, there is no help for it
—we can't stand to chat about trifles. The
Gineral has broken three pipes the last time
we talked about it. `Biddle and the Bank

must be smashed,' says he, `Major,'—and so
smash they go, Congress or no Congress.

The next thing was the Ingins. Here the
Gineral to hum—and I don't pretend to say
nothin, for I never did like an Ingin, and
never can. The Cherokees give us a good
deal of trouble in Georgia last year; but the
Gineral took sides with Georgia, because he
had a good many friends there, and Mr. Van
Buren had too; for that state was the only
one that nominated him Vice-President a spell
ago; and if he had got in there, and Mr.
Crawford President, who was ailin all over
with some plaguy appleplexy—I and the
Gineral would never have been hearn on
arterward. But no matter—the Gineral says
he didn't make that treaty with the Cherokees—and
it was made so long ago, he has
eny most forgot it—and treaties oughtn't to
last for ever. But this treaty with the Creeks
in Alabama, he did make, and he knows all
about it; and he means to stand by it, and
turn all the squatters off the land in Alabama,
jest as they wanted him to do in Georgia—
but he wouldn't—there is trouble enuff about
it, I tell you—and you don't know nothin
about it in York; but the Gineral is tikled to

death about it; and as soon as he saw the
Proclamation of the Governor of Alabama,
you never see a crittur so spruced up as the
Gineral was. `Major,' says he, `by the
etarnal, we shall have another Nullification
this Congress, arter all. You needn't say
much about it,' says he, `in the Message,—
we'll keep that for a Proclamation.' `Well,'
says I, `Gineral, you are a master-hand at
gittin into trouble.' `But,' says he, `Major,
ain't I a master one in gittin out of one?' says
he.

We've got an old trunk up-chamber, full
of troubles—old laws, and treaties, and contracts,
and state claims—and whenever we
want any powder, all we've got to do is to
open that, and snook among old papers, and
get up a row in no time. The Gineral likes
this a leetle better than I do, for the most of
the labour falls on me; and the only way I
can git rid of it is to make our folks down
stairs do it, if I see it gives any on 'em a boost
with his party—for I don't care nothin about
any thing here but the Gineral; and if I can
git him threw this Congress, its pretty much
all I care about, and he too; for arter that,
I'm goin with him to the Hermitage, for I

expect by that time there wont be much
more left of us than our beards and shoestrings.