LETTER XIII.
Cousin Ephraim in trouble.
Dear Jack. — Here I am, about half way to Portland,
with one shu of the old lumber box broke down, and
tother one putty rickety. Its about half the way bare
ground, and the old hoss begins to be ruther wheezy. But
you know I don't give up for trifles, when there's a chance
to make a spec. Soon as I got your letter bout the bean
poles, I made business fly. Mother put me up a box of
beef and dough-nuts, and I fed old grey, and tackled up,
and all loaded and ready to start in tu hours; and if I
live I shall get the bean poles there at some rate or other
fore long; but I'm fraid I may be late. If you know
the Governor, I wish you'd just ask him to keep his appointments
back a little while; he shant loose nothin by
it, if the poles sell well. I shall have to go the rest of
the way on wheels, and I want you to see if you cant hire
one of the government wheels and come and meet me,
for the plagy fellers here wont trust me with their wheels
till I get back. Besides if I could get one of the wheels
of government, I'm thinking I could get along a good
deal faster; for I met a man jest now from Portland
that said they've got them are wheels going now like a
buz. He said there was no wheels in the country that
could go half so fast; and he thinks they work a good
deal better for being split up and mended so much.
Grandfather said they would want as many cockades as
Sheriff polls; and so he put in his old continental one,
that he had in the revolution.
P. S. I hope you'll get the government wheels to
come arter the poles, for I want some that are putty
easy trig'd, cause the hills are ruther slippery.
Your Cusin,
EPHRAIM DOWNING.
