University of Virginia Library

LETTER III.

Uncle Joshua's visit to Boston, and dines with the Gineral
Court

Dear Neffu,—I left home just after your letter
to your cousin Ephraim got there, and I didn't get a
sight of your letter to me that you put in the Courier
at Portland, until I saw it in the Daily Advertiser in
Boston, and I guess Mr. Hale is the only person in
Boston who takes that are little Courier, so you was
pretty safe about the letter not being seen, as the printer
promised you.—How I happened to see it here, you
will find out before I have got through with this letter.
I guess you wont be a little struck up when you find out
that I'm in Boston—but I had best begin at the beginning
and then I shall get thro' quicker.

After seeing your letter to Ephraim as I said before,
I concluded it would'nt be a bad scheme to tackle up
and take a load of turkies, some apple-sauce, and other
notions that the neighbors wanted to get to market, and
as your uncle Nat would be in Boston with the ax handles,
we all thought best to try our luck there. Nothing
happened worth mentioning on the road, nor till next

morning after I got here and put up in Elm street.
I then got off my watch pretty curiously, as you shall
be informed. I was down in the bar room, and tho't it
well enough to look pretty considerable smart, and now
and then compared my watch with the clock in the bar
and found it as near right as ever it was—when a feller
stept up to me and ask't how I'd trade? and says I, for
what? and says he for your watch—and says I, any
way that will be a fair shake—upon that says he, I'll
give you my watch and five dollarn—Says I, its done!
He gave me the five dollars, and I gave him my watch.
Now, says I, give me your watch—and says he, with a
loud laugh, I han't got none—and that kind aturn'd
the laugh on me. Thinks I, let them laugh that lose.
Soon as the laugh was well over, the feller thought he'd
try the watch to his ear—why, says he, it dont go—no,
says I, not without its carried—then I began to laugh—
he tried to open it and could'nt start it a hair, and broke
his thumb nail into the bargain. Won't she open, says
he? Not's I know on, says I—and then the laugh
seemed to take onother turn.

Don't you think I got off the old Brittannia pretty
well, considerin? And then I thought I'd go and see
about my load of turkies and other notions. I expected
to have gone all over town to sell my load, but Mr.
Doolittle told me if I'd go down to the new market, I
should find folks enough to buy all I had at once. So
down I goes, and a likely kind of a feller, with an eye
like a hawk and quick as a steeltrap for a trade, (they
called him a 4th staller,) came up to the wagon, and
before you could say Jack Robinson, we struck a bargain
for the whole cargo—and come to weigh and reckon
up, I found I should get as much as 10s6d more than
any of us calculated before I left home, and had the apple-sauce
left besides. So I thought I'd jist see how
this 4th staller worked his card to be able to give us so
good a price for the turkies, and I went inside the market-house,
and a grander sight I never expect to see!
But it was the 3d staller instead of the 4th, had my turkies

all sorted and hung up, and looking so much better
that I hardly should know 'em. Pretty soon, a gentleman
asked the 3d staller what he asked for turkies? Why,
says he, if you want something better than you ever
saw before, there's some 'twas killed last night purpose
for you. You may take 'em at 9d, being it's you. I'll
give you 12 cents, said the gentleman, as I've got some
of the General Court to dine with me, and must treat
well. I shant stand for half a cent with an old customer,
says he. And so they traded; and in about the
space of half an hour or more, all my turkies went into
baskets at that rate. The 4th staller gave me 6d a
pound, and I began to think I'd been a little too much
in a hurry for trade—but's no use to cry for spilt milk.
Then I went up to the State House to see what was going
on there; but I thought I'd get off my apple-sauce
on my way—and seeing a sign of old clothes bartered, I
stepped in and made a trade, and got a whole suit of
superfine black broadcloth from top to toe, for a firkin of
apple-sauce, (which didn't cost much I guess, at home.)

Accordingly I rigged myself up in the new suit, and
you'd hardly known me. I didn't like the set of the
shoulders, they were so dreadful puckery; but the man
said that was all right. I guess he'll find the apple-sauce
full as puckery when he gets down into it—but
that's between ourselves. Well, when I got up to the
State House I found them at work on the rail road—
busy enough I can tell you—they got a part of it made
already. I found most all the folks kept their hats on
except the man who was talking out loud and the man
he was talking to—all the rest seemed to be busy about
their own consarns. As I didn't see any body to talk
to I kept my hat on and took a seat, and look'd round
to see what was going on. I hadn't been setting long
before I saw a slick-headed, sharp-eyed little man, who
seemed to have the principal management of the folks,
looking at me pretty sharp, as much as to say who are
you? but I said nothing and looked tother way—at last
he touched me on the shoulder—I thought he was feeling

of the puckers. Are you a member? says he—sartin
says I—how long have you taken your seat? says
he. About ten minutes, says I. Are you qualified?
says he. I guess not, says I. And then he left me.
I didn't know exactly what this old gentleman was after—but
soon he returned and said it was proper for
me to be qualified before I took a seat, and I must go
before the governor! By Jing! I never felt so before
in oll my born days. As good luck would have it, he
was beckoned to come to a man at the desk, and as soon
as his back was turned I give him the slip. Jest as I
was going off, the gentleman who bought my turkies of
the 4th staller took hold of my arm, and I was afraid at
first that he was going to carry me to the Governor—
but he began to talk as sociable as if we had been old
acquaintances. How long have you been in the house,
Mr. Smith, says he. My name is Downing, said I.
I beg your pardon, says he—I mean Downing. It's no
offence, says I, I hav'nt been here long. Then says he
in a very pleasant way, a few of your brother members
are to take pot-luck with me to-day, and I should be very
happy to have you join them. What's pot-luck said
I. O, a family dinner, says he—no ceremony. I
thought by this time I was well qualified for that without
going to the Governor. So says I, yes, and thank
ye too. How long before you'll want me, says I. At
3 o'clock, says he, and gave me a piece of paste board
with his name on it—and the name of the street, and
the number of his house, and said that would show me
the way. Well, says I, I dont know of nothing that
will keep me away, And then we parted. I took considerable
liking to him.

After strolling round and seeing a great many things
about the State House and the marble image of Gin.
Washington, standing on a stump in the Porch, I went
out into the street they call Bacon street, and my stars!
what swarms of women folks I saw all drest up as if
they were going to meetin. You can tell cousin Polly
Sandburn, who you know is no slimster, that she needn't

take on so about being genteel in her shapes—for the
genteelest ladies here beat her as to size all hollow.
I dont believe one of 'em could get into our fore dore—
and as for their arms—I shouldn't want better measure
for a bushel of meal than one of their sleeves could
hold. I shant shell out the bushel of corn you say I've
lost on Speaker Ruggles at that rate. But this puts me
in mind of the dinner which Mr. — wants I should
help the Gineral Court eat. So I took out the piece of
paste board, and began to inquire my way and got along
completely, and found the number the first time—but
the door was locked, and there was no knocker, and I
I thumpt with my whip handle, but nobody come. And
says I to a man going by, dont nobody live here? and
says he yes. Well, how do you get in? Why, says
he, ring; and says I, ring what? And says he, the
bell. And says I where's the rope? And says he,
pull that little brass nub: and so I gave it a twitch, and
I'm sure a bell did ring; and who do you think opened
the door with a white apron afore him? You couldn't
guess for a week a Sundays—so I'll tell you. It was
Stephen Furlong, who kept our district school last winter,
for 5 dollars a month, and kept bachelor's hall, and
helped tend for Gineral Coombs a training days, and
make out muster rolls. We was considerably struck
up at first, both of us; and when he found I was going
to eat dinner with Mr. — and Gineral Court, he
thought it queer kind of doings—but says he, I guess it
will be as well for both of us not to know each other a bit
more than we can help. And says I, with a wink, you're
half right, and in I went. There was nobody in the
room but Mr. — and his wife, and not a sign of any
dinner to be seen any where—though I thought now and
then when a side door opened, I could smell cupboard,
as they say.

I thought I should be puzzled enough to know what
to say, but I hadn't my thoughts long to myself. Mr.
— has about as nimble a tongue as you ever heard,
and could say ten words to my one, and I had nothing

to do in the way of making talk. Just then I heard a
ringing, and Stephen was busy in opening the door and
letting in the Gineral Court. who all had their hats off,
and looking pretty scrumptious, you may depend. I
did'nt see but I could stand along side of 'em without
disparagement, except to my boots, which had just got
a lick of beeswax and tallow—not a mite of dinner yet,
and I began to feel as if 'twas nearer supper time than
dinner time—when all at once two doors flew away from
each other right into the wall, and what did I see but
one of the grandest thanksgiving dinners you ever laid
your eyes on—and lights on the table, and silver candlesticks
and gold lamps over head—the window shutters
closed—I guess more than one of us stared at first,
but we soon found the way to our mouths—I made Stephen
tend out for me pretty sharp, and he got my plate
filled three or four times with soup, which beat all I ever
tasted. I shan't go through the whole dinner agian to
you—but I am mistaken if it cost me much for victuals
this week, if I pay by the meal at Mr. Doolittle's, who
comes pretty near up to a thanksgiving every day.
There was considerable talk about stock and manufactories,
and lier bilities, and rimidies, and a great loss
on stock. I thought this a good chance for me to put
in a word—for I calculated I knew as much about raising
stock and keeping over as any of 'em. Says I to
Mr. —, there's one thing I've always observed in
my experience in stock—just as sure as you try to keep
over more stock than you have fodder to carry them
well into April, one half will die on your hands, to a
sartinty—and there's no remedy for it—I've tried it
out and out, and there's no law that can make a ton of
hay keep over ten cows, unless you have more carrots
and potatoes than you can throw a stick at. This made
some of the folks stare who didn't know much about
stock—and Steve give me a jog, as much as to say, keep
quiet. He thought I was getting into a quog-mire, and
soon after, giving me a wink, opened the door and got
me out of the room into the entry.

After we had got out of hearing, says I to Steve, how
are you getting on in the world—should you like to
come back to keep our school if I could get a vote for
you!—not by two chalks, says Steve—I know which
side my bread is buttered better than all that—I get
12 dollars a month and found, and now and then some
old clothes, which is better than keeping school at 5
dollars and find myself, and work out my highway tax
besides—then turning up the cape of my new coat, says
he, I guess I've dusted that afore now—most likely,
says I, but not in our district school. And this brings
to mind to tell you how I got a sight of your letter.
They tell me here that every body reads the Boston
Daily Advertiser, because there is no knowing but what
they may find out something to their advantage, so I
thought I would be as wise as the rest of them, and before
I got half through with it, what should I find mixed
up among the news but your letter that you put into
that little paper down in Portland, and I knew it was
your writing before I had read ten lines of it.

I hope I've answered it to your satisfaction.