University of Virginia Library

LETTER XLV.
Capt. Downing is in a peck of trouble about the Legislature's
selling Madawaska to the General Government to
be given up to the British, and sits down and figures up
the price.

My dear old Friend, — I cleared out from Augusta
in such a kind of a whirlwind, that I hadn't time to write
you a single word before I left. And I feel so kind of
crazy now, I dont know hardly which end I stand upon.
I've had a good many head-flaws and worriments in my
life time, and been in a great many hobbles, but I never,
in all my born days, met with any thing that puzzled
me quite so bad as this ere selling out down here. I fit
in the Legislater as long as fighting would do any good,
that is, I mean in the caucus, for they wouldn't let me
go right into the Legislater in the day time and talk to
'em there, because I was only a lobby member. But

jest let them know it, lobby members can do as much as
any of 'em on sich kind of business as this. I laid it
down to 'em in the caucus as well as I could. I asked
'em if they didn't think I should look like a pretty fool,
after marching my company down there, and standing
ready all winter to flog the whole British nation the
moment any of 'em stept a foot on to our land, if I
should now have to march back again and give up the
land and all without flogging a single son-of-a-gun of
'em. But they said it was no use, it couldn't be helped:
Mr Netherlands had given the land away to the British,
and the President had agreed to do jest as Mr Netherlands
said about it, and all we could do now was to get
as much pay for it as we could.

So I set down and figured it up a little to see how
much it would come to, for I used to cypher to the rule
of three when I went to school, and I found it would
come to a pretty round sum. There was, in the first
place, about two millions of acres of land. This, considerin
the timber there was on it, would certainly be
worth a dollar an acre, and that would be two millions
of dollars. Then there was two or three thousand inhabitants,
say twenty-five hundred; we must be paid for
them too, and how much are they worth? I've read in
the newspapers that black slaves, at the south, sell for
three or four hundred dollars apiece. I should think,
then, that white ones ought to fetch eight hundred.
This, according to the rule of three, would be two hundred
thousand dollars. Then there's the pretty little
town of Madawaska that our Legislater made last winter,
already cut and dried with town officers all chosen,
and every thing ready for the British to use without any
more trouble. We ought to have pay for this too, and I
should think it was worth ten thousand dollars.

And then the town of Madawasca has chosen Mr
Lizote to be a representative in the Legislater, and as
the British can take him right into the Parliament without

choosing him over again, they ought to pay us for
that too. Now I have read in the newspapers that it
sometimes costs, in England, two hundred thousand dollars
to choose a representative to Parliament, reckoning
all the grog they drink and all the money they pay for
votes. But I wouldn't be screwing about it, so I put Mr
Lizote down at one hundred thousand dollars. And
then I footed up, and found it to be,—

         

For land, including timber, two millions of dollars,	$2,000,000
For inhabitants, including women and children, two hundred thousand dollars,	200,000
For the town of Madawaska, officers and all, ten thousand dollars,	10,000
For Mr Lizote, all ready to go to Parliament, one hundred thousand dollars,	100,000
Total,	$2,310,000

This was a pretty round sum, and I begun to think,
come to divide it out, it would be a slice a-piece worth
having; especially if we didn't give the Feds any of it,
and I supposed we shouldn't, as there wasn't any of 'em
there in the caucus to help see about it.

`In this view of the subject,' I almost made up my
mind that we ought to be patriotic enough to give it up,
and help the general government out of the hobble they
had got into. And I was jest a-going to get up and
make a speech and tell 'em so, when Mr McCrate of
Nobleborough, and Capt. Smith of Westbrook, two of
the best fellers in our party, came along and see what
I was figuring about, and, says they, Capt. Downing,
are you going to sell your country? In a minute I felt
something rise right up in my throat, that felt as big as
an ox-yoke. As soon as I got so I could speak, says I,
No, never, while my name is Jack Downing, or my old
rifle can carry a bullet. They declared too, that they
wouldn't sell out to the general government, nor the

British, nor nobody else. And we stuck it out most of
the evening, till we found out how it was going, and
then we cleared out, and as soon as the matter was fairly
settled, I started off for Madawaska; for I was afraid if
my company should hear of it before I got there, it
would make a blow up among 'em, and I should have to
court-martial 'em.

When I first told 'em how the jig was up with us,
that the British were going to have the land, without
any fighting about it, I never see fellows so mad before
in my life, unless it was Major Eaton at Washington
when he sot out to flog Mr Ingham. They said if they
could only have had one good battle, they wouldn't care
a snap about it, but to be played tom-fool with in this
way they wouldn't bear it. They were so mad, they
hopped right up and down, and declared they never
would go back till they had been over to Fredericton
and pulled the jail down, or thrashed some of the New
Brunswick boys. But, after a while, I pacified 'em by
telling 'em if we didn't get a chance to fight here, I
rather thought we might away off to Georgia, for there
was something of a bobbery kicking up, and if the President
should want troops to go on there, I was very sure
my company would be one of the first he would send for.

So here we are, lying upon our arms, not knowing
what to do. I have written to the President, and hope
to hear from him soon. If the land is to go, I want to
know it in season to get off before it's all over; for I'll
be hanged if ever I'll belong to the British.