University of Virginia Library

MY GINUWINE LETTERS.

LETTER I.

Wherein is contained some account of Mr. Downing's
ancestors.

From the New York Daily Advertiser.

The Downings.—The celebrity of Major Jack Downing
has created an intense and very natural curiosity in
the public mind to know something of his origin and
ancestry. Hoping that some of the down-east antiquaries
and genealogists will favour the world with the information
desired, I submit to your disposal the following
imperfect notice of Sir George Downing, one of the
Major's ancestors, which I have drawn from an interesting
and learned work now in a course of publication, in
numbers, entitled `Memorial of the Graduates of Harvard
University, in Cambridge, Mass. Commencing
with the first class, 1642. By John Farmer, Cor. Sec.
of the N. H. Hist. Society.'

George Downing was born in London in 1624, and
accompanied his parents to this country when about
thirteen years of age. His father, Emanual Downing, a
great friend of New England, was brother-in-law to
John Winthrop, one of the principal founders and first
governor of Massachusetts. George received his education

at Harvard College. About 1646 he returned to
England, when he was soon brought into notice, being,
as Gov. Winthrop says, `a very able scholar, and of
ready wit and fluent utterance.' He was appointed
chaplain in the regiment of Col. John Okey, in the army
of Lord Fairfax, who had command of the Parliament
forces in the north. In 1653 he was commissary general,
and about the same time scout-master-general of
the English army in Scotland. In the same year he
was employed in negotiations with the Duke of Savoy.
He seems to have been fitted by nature for scenes of
political manœuvering; and his principles were of such
flexible character, that he could easily accommodate
them to any service which the times required.

In 1655 he visited the French king on public business,
and communicated his instructions in Latin. In 1657
he was appointed minister to Holland. In March,
1662, while in that country, in order to show his zeal
and love for his majesty, he procured the arrest of John
Okey, Miles Corbet, and John Barkstead, three of the
Judges who had condemned to death Charles I, and sent
them to England for trial. Okey had been the friend of
Downing, who served in his regiment as chaplain.
With the other two, he had co-operated in the cause of
the Parliament. His conduct, therefore, in this transaction
was justly reprobated.

He also spake of Cromwell as a traitor and rebel.
In 1663, he was created a baronet. He informed Pepys
that, when in Holland, `he had so good spys, that
he hath had the keys taken out of De Witt's (the Dutch
minister) pocket when he was abed, and his closet
opened and papers brought to him and left in his hands
for an hour, and carried back and laid in the place
again, and the keys put into his pocket. He says he
hath had their most private debates, that have been
between but two or three of them, brought to him, and
in an hour after that hath sent word thereof to the king.'
In 1671, he was again sent to Holland, but returning
before he had executed the business of his mission to the

satisfaction of the king, was imprisoned in the tower.
He was afterwards restored to royal favour. In the
difficulties which the New England colonies had with
Charles II, from 1669, Mr. Downing was represented
as having been very friendly to Massachusetts. He
died in 1684 at the age of 60.

Major Jack Downing, of Downingville, seems to have
inherited his distinguished ancestor's talents for war,
business, and diplomacy, and, like him, to possess ready
wit and fluent utterance, and to bask in the sunshine of
royal favour. Whether he resembles him in other respects,
time must disclose.

LETTER II.

Mr. Downing describes the method of making a
Speaker.

Dear Cousin Ephraim.—I now take my pen in
hand to let you know that I am well, hoping these few
lines will find you enjoying the same blessing. When
I come down to Portland I did n't think o' staying
more than three or four days, if I could sell my load
of ax handles, and mother's cheese, and cousin Nabby's
bundle of footings; but when I got here I found
uncle Nat was gone a freighting down to Quoddy, and
ant Sally said as how I should n't stir a step home till
he came back agin, which wont be this month. So
here I am, loitering about this great town, as lazy as an
ox. Ax handles dont fetch nothing, I could n't hardly
give 'em away. Tell cousin Nabby I sold her footings
for nine-pence a pair, and took it all in cotton cloth.
Mother's cheese come to five-and-sixpence; I got her
a pound of shushon, and two ounces of snuff, and the

rest in sugar. When uncle Nat comes home I shall
put my ax handles aboard of him, and let him take 'em
to Boston next time he goes; I saw a feller tother day,
that told me they'd fetch a good price there. I've been
here now a whole fortnight, and if I could tell ye one
half I've seen, I guess you'd stare worse than if you'd
seen a catamount. I've been to meeting, and to the
museum, and to both Legislaters, the one they call the
House, and the one they call the Sinnet. I spose
uncle Joshua is in a great hurry to hear something about
these Legislaters; for you know he's always reading
newspapers, and talking politics, when he can get any
body to talk with him. I've seen him, when he had
five tons of hay in the field well made, and a heavy
shower coming up, stand two hours disputing with
squire W. about Adams and Jackson, one calling
Adams a tory and a fed, and the other saying Jackson
was a murderer and a fool; so they kept it up, till the
rain began to pour down, and about spoilt all his hay.

Uncle Joshua may set his heart at rest about the
bushel of corn that he bet long with the post-master,
that Mr. Ruggles would be Speaker of that Legislater,
they call the House; for he 's lost it, slick as a whistle.
As I had n't much to do, I 've been there every
day since they 've been a setting. A Mr. White of
Monmouth was the Speaker the two first days; and I
cant see why they did n't keep him in all the time;
for he seemed to be a very clever good-natured sort of
man, and he had such a smooth pleasant way with him,
that I could n't help feeling sorry when they turned
him out and put in another. But some said he was n't
put in hardly fair; and I dont know as he was, for the
first day when they were all coming in and crowding
round, there was a large fat man, with a round, full,
jolly sort of face, I suppose he was the captain, for he
got up and commanded them to come to order, and
then he told this Mr. White to whip into the chair
quicker than you could say Jack Robinson. Some
of'em scolded about it, and I heard some, in a little

room they called the lobby, say 'twas a mean trick; but
I could n't see why, for I thought Mr. White made a
capital Speaker, and when our company turns out you
know the captain always has a right to do as he's a
mind to.

They kept disputing most all the time the two first
days about a poor Mr. Roberts from Waterborough.—
Some said he should n't have a seat, because he adjourned
the town meeting, and was n't fairly elected.—
Others said it was no such thing, and that he was elected
as fairly as any of 'em. And Mr. Roberts himself
said he was, and said he could bring men that would
swear to it, and good men too. But notwithstanding
all this, when they came to vote, they got three or four
majority that he should n't have a seat. And I thought
it a needless piece of cruelty, for they want crowded,
and there was a number of seats empty. But they
would have it so, and the poor man had to go and stand
up in the lobby.

Then they disputed awhile about a Mr. Fowler's having
a seat. Some said he should n't have a seat, because
when he was elected some of his votes were
given for his father. But they were more kind to him
than they were to Mr. Roberts; for they voted that he
should have a seat; and I suppose it was because they
thought he had a lawful right to inherit whatever was
his father's. They all declared there was no party
politics about it, and I dont think there was; for I noticed
that all who voted that Mr. Roberts should have
a seat, voted that Mr. Fowler should not; and all who
voted that Mr. Roberts should not have a seat, voted
that Mr. Fowler should. So, as they all voted both
ways, they must have acted as their consciences told
them, and I dont see how there could be any party
about it.

It 's a pity they could n't be allowed to have two
speakers, for they seemed to be very anxious to choose
Mr. Ruggles and Mr. Goodenow. They two had every
vote, except one, and if they had had that, I believe

they would both have been chosen; as it was,
however, they both came within a humbird's eye of it.
Whether it was Mr. Ruggles that voted for Mr. Goodenow,
or Mr. Goodedow for Mr. Ruggles, I cant exactly
tell; but I rather guess it was Mr. Ruggles voted
for Mr. Goodenow, for he appeared to be very glad
that Mr. Goodenow was elected, and went up to him
soon after Mr. Goodenow took the chair, and shook
hands with him as good-natured as could be. I would
have given half my load of ax handles, it they could
both have been elected and set up there together, they
would have been so happy. But as they can't have but
one speaker at a time, and as Mr. Goodenow appears
to understand the business very well, it is not likely
Mr. Ruggles will be speaker any this winter. So uncle
Joshua will have to shell out his bushel of corn, and I
hope it will learn him better than to bet about politics
again. If he had not been a goose, he might have
known he would loose it, even if he had been ever so
sure of getting it; for in these politics there's never
any telling which way the cat will jump. You know,
before the last September election, some of the papers
that came to our town had found out that Mr. Hunton
would have five thousand majority of the votes. And
some of the other papers had found out that Mr. Smith
would have five thousand majority. But the cat jumped
'tother way to both of 'em; for I cant find yet as
either of 'em got any majority. Some say Mr. Hunton
has got a little majority, but as far from five thousand
as I am from home. And as for Mr. Smith, they
dont think he has any majority at all. You remember,
too, before I came from home, some of the papers said
how there was a majority of ten or fifteen national republicans
in the Legislater, and the other papers said
there was a pretty clever little majority of democratic
republicans. Well, now every body says it has turned
out jest as that queer little paper, called the Daily
Courier, said 't would. That paper said it was such a
close rub, it could n't hardly tell which side would beat.
And it 's jést so, for they've been here now most a fortnight
acting jest like two boys playin see-saw on a rail.
First one goes up, then 'tother; but I reckon one of
the boys is rather heaviest, for once in awhile he comes
down chuck, and throws the other up into the air as
though he would pitch him head over heels.

In that 'tother Legislator they call the Sinnet, there
has been some of the drollest carryins on that you ever
heard of. If I can get time I'll write you something
about it, pretty soon. So I subscribe myself, in haste,
your loving cousin till death.

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.

LETTER IV.

Mr. Downing relates the scrape the legislature got into,
in trying to make a number of governors.

Dear Cousin Ephraim.—I spose you expected me
to write to you agin long afore now and tell you something
more about these legislaters, and I meant to, but I
could n't very well; for I'll tell you jest how twas.—
Some days, when the legislater would get into a plaguy
hobble, I would think to myself, well, soon as they get
out of this snarl, I'll write to cousin Ephraim and tell
him all about it; but before they got fairly out of that,
they'd be right into another; and if I waited till next
day to see how that ended, my keesers! before night
they'd all be higgeldy piggle in a worse hobble than
they'd ever been in afore. So if I wait to tell you how
it comes out, I believe I shall have to wait till haying
time. Another thing I've been waiting for, was to tell
you who was Governor. But, O dear, I cant find out
half so much about it now, here in this great city of
Portland, where all the Governors live, as I could six
months ago among the bear traps and log houses in our
town, way back into the woods. Last August, you know,
according to the papers we were going to have two
Governors right off, sure as rates; Mr. Hunton and Mr.
Smith. Well now its got to be the first of February,
and we haven't got one yet. And although the governormakers
have had four or five under way for a month
past, some think it very doubtful whether they will get
one done so as to be fit to use this year. There's Mr.
Hunton, and Mr. Smith, and Mr. Culter, and Mr.
Goodenow, and Mr. Hall, have all been partly made
into Governors; but when in all creation any of 'em
will be finished, I guess it would puzzle a Philadelphy
lawyer to tell. I stated in my letter to uncle Joshua,

that there were two very clever parties in the legislater,
the democratic republikans and the national republikans;
and they are so, and very industrious, and try
to make things go on right; and I really believe, if the
confounded Jacksonites and Huntonites didn't bother
'em so, they'd make us a Governor, as quick as I could
make an ax handle. It is enough to do any body's
heart good to see how kind and obliging these democratic
republikans and national republikans are to each
other, and how each party tries to help the other along;
and its enough to make any body's blood boil to see
the Jacksonites and Huntonites, jest like the dog in the
manger, because they cant eat the hay themselves, snap
at these two clever parties the moment either of 'em
sets out to take a mouthful. I'll jest give you an instance
of the kindness that these two clever parties
show to each other. You know the constitution says
when we haven't any Governor the President of the
Sinnet must be Governor, and when we have n't any
President of the Sinnet, the Speaker of the House must
be Governor. So when Governor Lincoln died Mr.
Cutler was Governor for awhile, because he was last
year President of the Sinnet. Mr. Goodenow is a national
republikan, and when he was elected Speaker of
the House, the democratic republikans told him as there
was no President of the Sinnet elected yet, it belonged
to him to be Governor, and tried as hard as though he
had belonged to their own party, to encourage him to
go right into the council chamber and do the governor's
business. But the national republikans didn't dare to
let him go, for he was elected by only one majority, and
they said if he should leave the chair, it wouldn't be
five minutes before a Jacksonite would be whisked into
it, and then the two clever parties would all be up a
tree. Well, jest so twas in the Sinnet after Elder
Hall was elected president, only the bread was buttered
on tother side. Elder Hall is a democrat republikan,
and there was a great deal tougher scrabble to
elect him, than there was to choose the Speaker of the
House. But as soon as he was elected, the national
republikans went to him very kindly, and said, `Elder
Hall, by the provisions of the constitution you are now
fairly Governor of the State till another governor is
qualified. Dont be bashful about it, but please to walk
right into the Council chamber, and do the governor's
business.' But the democratic republikans said, that
would never do, for if he should, the Sinnet Board
would be capsized in an instant and the Huntonites
would rule the roast. So there was a pair of Governors
spoilt when they were more than half made, jest by the
michief of the Jacksonites and Huntonites. And the
consequence is, that Mr. Cutler has to keep doing the
Governor's business yet, whether he wants to or not,
and whether it is right for him to, or not. They say
the poor man is a good deal distressed about it, and has
sent to the great Judges of the Supreme Court to know
whether it's right for him to be Governor any longer
or not. If the Judges should say he mus 'nt be Governor
any longer, we shall be in a dreadful pickle.
Only think, no Governor, and no laws, but every body
do jest as they're a mind to. Well, if that should be
the case, I know one thing, that is, Bill Johnson will get
one good flogging for calling me a mean puppy and a
coward last summer; I've longed to give it to him ever
since; and if the Legislater don't make a governor this
winter, I shall come right home, and Bill must look out.
What a pity 'tis they should waste so much time trying
to make so many governors; for, if they should make
a dozen, we shouldn't want to use but one this year;
and it is thought if they had all clapt to and worked
upon one instead of working upon so many, they might
have had him done more than three weeks ago.

LETTER V.

Mr. Downing describes the predicament in which the
house of Representatives got into.

Dear Cousin Ephraim,—I have just time to write
you a short postscript to a letter that I shall send you
in a day or two. We have had a dreadful time here to-day.
You know the wheels of government have been
stopt here for three or four weeks, and they all clapt
their shoulders under to-day, and give 'em a lift; and
they started so hard, that as true as you're alive, they
split both Legislaters right in tu. Some say they are
split so bad, they can't mend 'em again, but I hope
they can though; I shall tell you all about how 'twas
done, in a day or two. I've been expecting a letter
from you, or some of the folks, sometime. As I've
got prerty short of money, I wish you would send 'em
in the Daily Courier, so I shant have to pay the postage.

LETTER VI.

In which things look brighter.

Cousin Ephraim,—I thought I would jest write you
another little postscript to my letter that I was going to
send you in a day or tu, and let you know that the legislaters
want split so bad as some folks tho't for.—
They've got 'em both mended again, so that they set 'em
agoing to day afore noon. But in the arternoon, that
legislater they call the Sinnet, got struck, and in trying

to make it go, it rather seemed to crack a little;
so they stopt short till to-morrow. Its been jostled
about so, and got so weak an' rickety, some are afraid
it will give out yet, or split in tu again.

LETTER VII.

An account of the trigging of the wheels of government.

Dear Cousin Ephraim.—I've wrote you three postscripts
since I wrote you a letter, and the reason is,
these Legislaters have been carryin on so like all possest,
and I've been in looking at 'em so much, I could
n't get time to write more than three lines at once, for
fear I should be out of the way, and should miss seeing
some of the fun. But thinkin you'd be tired of
waiting, I tried to get the printer to send my letter yesterday;
but he told me right up and down he could n't.
I told him he must, for I ought to sent before now.—
But he said he could n't and would n't, and that was
the upshot of the matter, for the paper was chock full,
and more tu, of the Governor's message. Bless my
stars, says I, and have we got a Governor done enough
so he can speak a message? Yes, indeed we have,
says he, thanks be to the two great republikin parties,
who have saved the State from the anarkee of the Jacksonites
and Huntonites; the Governor is done, and is
jest a going into the Lesislater, and if you 'll go right
up there, you can see him. So I pushed in among the
crowd, and I got a pretty good squeezin tu; but I got
a good place, for I could elbow it as well as any on 'em.
And I had n't been there five minutes, seemingly, before
we had a Governor sure enough; and a good stout,

genteel looking sort of a man he was tu, as you would
see in a whole regiment, taking in captains and all.—
Nobody disputed that he was finished pretty workman-like;
and he ought to be, for they 'd been long enough
about it. So they concluded to swear him in, as they
call it, and he took a great oath to behave like a Governor
a whole year. Some say the wheels of government
will go along smooth and easy now, as a wheelbarrow
across a brick yard; but some shake their heads, and
say the wheels will be jolting over rocks and stumps all
winter yet; and I dont know but they will, for the
Governor had n't hardly turned his back upon 'em and
gone out, before they went right to disputing agin as
hard as ever. I was a good mind to run out and call
the Governor back to still 'em. But I could n't tell
where to look for him, so they got clear of a drubbing
that time. I know he 'd a gin it to 'em if he 'd been
there; for what do you think was the first thing they
went to disputing about? It was how many Governor's
speeches they should print this winter; jest as if
the Governor could n't tell that himself. Some wanted
three hundred, and some five hundred, and some seven
or eight hundred. Finally they concluded to print five
hundred; and I should think that was enough in all
conscience, if they are all going to be as long as that
one they printed in the Courier yesterday. In the next
place, they took up that everlasting dispute about Mr.
Roberts' having a seat; for if you 'll believe me, they've
kept that poor man standing there till this time.

I'll tell you how tis, Cousin Ephraim, we must contrive
some way or other to keep these Jacksonites and
Huntonites out of the Legislater another year, or we
shall be ruin'd; for they make pesky bad work, triging
the wheels of government. They 've triged 'em so
much that they say it has cost the State about fifteen
thousand dollars a'ready, more than 'twould, if they
had gone along straight without stopping. So you may
tell uncle Joshua that besides that bushel of corn he lost
in betting about the Speaker, he'll have to shell out as

much as two bushels more to pay the cost of triging the
wheels. Jingoe! sometimes when I've seen the wheels
chocked with a little trig not bigger than a cat's head,
and the whole legislater trying with all their might two
or three days, and couldn't start it a hair, how I've
longed to hitch on my little speckled four-year-olds,
and give 'em a pull; if they wouldn't make the wheels
fly over the trigs in a jiffy, I wont guess agin. 'Tother
day in a great convention, when both Legislaters met
together to chuse some Counsellors, Mr. Boutelle and
Mr. Smith of Nobleborough tried to explain how 'twas
the wheels of government were trig'd so much. Mr.
Boutelle, as I have told you a-fore, is a national republican,
and Mr. Smith is a democratic republican.—
They differed a little in their opinion. Mr. Boutelle
seemed to think the trigs were all put under by one class
of politicians, and from what he said, I took it he meant
the Jacksonites. He said ever since the Legislater began,
the moment they started the wheels, that class of
politicians would throw under a chock and stop 'em;
and which ever way they turned, that class of politicians
would meet 'em at every corner and bring 'em up
all standin. Mr. Smith seemed to think another class
of politicians had the greatest hand in it, and it was
pretty clear he meant the Huntonites. He said when
they first got here, that class of politicians sot the
wheels of government rolling the wrong way; they put
the big wheels forward, and the Legislater had been
going backwards ever since, just like a lobster. And
the Huntonites not only trig'd the wheels, whenever
they begun to roll the right way; but as soon as the
`blessed Governor' was done they trig'd him tu; and
though he had been done four days, they would'nt let
him come into the Legislater so that their eyes could
be blest with the sight of him. So from what I can
find out, the Jacksonites and Huntonites both, are a
troublesome contrary set, and there must be some way
contrived to keep 'em out of the Legislater in future.

It seems soon after you got my first letter, uncle

Joshua tackled up, and started off to Boston with a
load of turkeys and apple-sauce. I had a letter from
him t'other day, as long as all out doors, in the Boston
Advertiser. He says he got more for the turkeys than
he expected tu; but I think its a plaguy pity he did'nt
bring 'em to Portland. I know he'd got more than he
could in Boston. Provision kind is getting up here
wonderfully, on account of these Legislaters being
likely to stay here all winter; and some think the'll be
here half the summer tu. And then there's sich a
cloud of what they call lobby members and office hunters,
that the butchers have got frightened, and gone to
buying up all the beef and pork they can get hold on
far and near for they are afraid a famine will be upon us
next. Howsomever, uncle Joshua did well to carry his
`puckery apple-sauce' to Boston. He could n't get a
cent for't here; for every body's puckery and soar
enough here now.

Give my love to father and mother and cousin Nabby.
I shall answer their letters as soon as I can.

LETTER VIII.

Mr. Downing advises his uncle Joshua to hold on to his
bushel of corn as the legislature had undertaken “to
rip up their duins.”

Postscript to uncle Joshua.

THIS WITH CARE AND SPEED.

Dear Uncle,—If you have'nt paid over that are
bushel of corn yet, that you lost when you bet Mr. Ruggles
would be Speaker, hold on to it for your life, till

you hear from me agin, for I aint so clear but you may
save it yet. They've gone to rippin up their duins here,
and there's no knowing but they may go clear back to
the beginning and have another tug about Speaker. At
any rate, if your bushel of corn is'nt gone out of your
crib yet, I advise you by all means to keep it there.

Tell 'squire N. the question is'nt settled yet; and
you wont shell out a single kernel till it is fairly nailed
and clinched, so it can't be ript up agin. I'll tell you
what 'tis, uncle Josh, the Supreme Court beats the Jacksonites
and Huntonites all hollow for trigging the wheels.
You know after they had such a tussle for about a week
to chose Elder Hall President of the Sinnet, and after
he come in at last all hollow, for they said he had a
majority of eight out of sixteen, they went on then two
or three weeks nicely, duin business tie and tie, hard
as they could. Then up steps the Judges of the Supreme
Court and tells Mr. Hall he was governor, and
ought to go into the Council Chamber. They seemed
to be a little bit thunder struck at first. But they soon
come to agin, and Elder Hall got out of the chair and
Mr. Kingsbury got into it, and they jogged along another
week, duin business as hard as ever. They said
all the chairs round the table ought to be filled, so they
changed works with the House and made four more
Sinneters. So having four good fresh hands come in,
they took hold in good earnest and turned off more
business in two days, than they had done in a month
before.

Then up steps the Supreme Court agin and tells 'em
their cake is all dough; for they had n't been duin constitutional.
This was yesterday; and it made a dreadful
touse. They went right to work rippin up and tarrin
away what they'd been duin; and before nine o'clock
in the evening they turned out the four new Sinneters,
out of their chairs and appointed a committee to begin
to make four more. They took hold so hash about it, I
spose some the rest of the Sinneters begun to be afraid
they should be ript up tu; so they clear'd out, I guess

near about half on 'em, and have n't been seen nor heard
of to day. Some of 'em that had more courage went
in and tried to do business; but there was n't enough of
'em to start an inch. They sent a man all around town
in the forenoon and afternoon to tell 'm to come in and
go to work, but he could n't find hide nor hair of one of
'em. Elder Hall said he guessed they must be somewhere
in a convention.

Some say they'll rip up the new Councillors next, and
then the Governor, cause the new Sinneters helpt make
em all. But there's one comfort left for us, let the cat
jump which way 'twill; if Mr. Hunton isn't a constitutional
Governor, Elder Hall is; the Judges have nailed
that fast. So think Bill Johnson will get off with a
whole skin, for I shant dare to flog him this year. If
they go clear back to the Speaker, and decide it in favor
of your bushel of corn, I shall let you know as soon as
possible.

LETTER IX.

The queer duins of the senate described.

Dear Cousin Ephraim,—Here I am yet, and have
n't much else to du, so I might as well keep writin to
you; for I spose uncle Joshua 's in a peck of trouble
about his bushel of corn. I'm pesky fraid he'll lose it
yet; for they don't seem to rip up worth a cent since
the first night they begun. The truth was they took hold
rather tu hash that night; and rippin up them are four
new Sinneters so quick, they scart away four or five

more old ones, so they didn't dare to come in again for
tu days. And that threw 'em all into the suds, head
and ears. It was worse than triging the wheels, for
it broke the Sinnet wheel right in tu, and left it so flat,
that all Job's oxen never could start it, if they hadn't
got it mended again. They tried, to keep duin something,
but they couldn't du the leastest thing. One time
they tried to du something with a little bit of a message
that was sent to 'em on a piece of paper from the
House. The President took it in his hand, and held
it up, and asked 'em what best to du with it. Some
of 'em motioned that they'd lay it on the table; but
come to consider on it, they found they couldn't according
to the constitution, without there was more of
'em to help. They said they couldn't lay it on the table,
nor du nothin at all with it. I was afraid the poor
old gentleman would have to stand there and hold it
till they got the wheel mended agin. But I believe he
finally let it drop on the table; and I spose there was
nothin in the constitution against that.

They got the wheel mended Monday about eleven er
clock, so they could start along a little. But them are
four new Sinneters that they ript up Thursday night,
come right back agin Monday, and sot down to the
great round table; and stood tu it through thick and
thin, that they want rip up, and no sich thing. Well,
this kicked up a kind of a bobbery among 'em, so they
thought they'd try to journ. The President counted
'em, and said they were journed and might go out.
One of the new Sinneters said the President didn't count
right, and they want journed a bit; and they must set
still and have an overhauling about it.

So they set down agin, all but four or five that put
on their hats and great coats and stood backside of the
room. The room was chock full of folks looking on,
and the President told 'em the Sinnet was journed and
they might as well go out, but they did seem to keer tu,
and they put their hats on and began to laugh like fun.
The President sot still in his cheer, for I spose he

thought if he left it, some of them are roguish fellers
would be gettin into it. The man that keeps order, told
the folks they must take their hats off when they were
in the Sinnet; but they said they wouldn't, cause the
Sinnet was adjourned. Then the man went and asked
the President if the Sinnet was all adjourned, and the
President said 'twas, and there was no doubt about it.
And the folks felt so tickled to think they could wear
their hats when the Sinneters were setting round the
great table, that they kind of whistled a little bit all
over the room.

Finally, after settin about half an hour, another man
got up and motioned to ajourn, and the President got
up and put it to vote agin. He told 'em if they wanted
to ajourn, they must say ah, and they all said ah this
time, and cleared out in five minutes.

But about this rippin up business; instead of rippin
up the councillors, as some thought they would, both
legislaters met together to-day, and called in four of
the councillors, and nailed 'em down harder with an
oath.

They've sot the committees to work like fun now,
and its thought they'll turn off business hand over hand;
for you know its almost March, and then the great
Supreme Court meets here. And they say they have a
grand jury that picks up all disorderly and mischievous
folk, and carries 'em into court, and the court puts
'em in jail. These legislaters have been cuttin up such
rigs here all winter, that they begin to look pretty shy
when any thing is said about the first of March, and I
dont believe the grand jury 'll be able to find a single
mother's son of 'em when the court gets here.

LETTER X.

A new idea for making money out of the office seekers,
swarming round the new governor.

Postscript to Ephraim.

Dear Cousin.—As soon as you get this, I want you
to load up tho old lumber-box with them are long slick
bean-poles, that I got out last summer. I guess I shant
make much by my ax handles, for I can't sell 'em yet;
I hant sold but tu since I've been here; and the sea's
been froze over so that uncle Ned hant got in from
Quoddy yet, and I hant had any chance to send my ax
handles to Boston. But if I lose on the ax handles, I
shall make it up on the bean poles if you only get 'em
here in season. Do make haste as fast as you can, and
you shall share half the profits.

It ant to stick beans with nuther; and I guess you'll
kind o' laff, when I tell you what tis for. You know
when we went to the court there was a man sot up in a
box, that they called a Sheriff, and held a long white
pole in his hand. Well I heard somebody say tother
day that there was more than a hundred folks here that
wanted to get a Sheriff's pole; and I happened to think
that them are bean poles would make cute ones. But
you must get 'em afore the Governor makes his appintments,
or it'll be gone goose with us, about it, for we
could'nt sell more than half a dozen arter that.

LETTER XI.

Cousin Ephraim in the difficulties.

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
about 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 nothing 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 can hire one of the government wheels
and come and meet me, for the plaguy 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.

LETTER XII.

A tug at the wheels of government described.

You sent word to me in your letter t'other day, that
you had got to bare ground, and broke down one shu

of the lumber box, and wanted me to get the wheels of
Government and come up after the poles. I tried to
get 'em, but they wouldn't let 'em go; and they said
'twould'nt be any use if I did; for I could'nt get more
than ten rods before the wheels would be trig'd. They
were expecting of 'em to be trig'd every day, they said;
for the Judges had sent a monstrous great trig to the Governor,
and told him if they went to start the wheels
forward any, he must clap it under; for they must'nt
go forward a bit more, and must roll the wheels back a
good ways, till they find the right road. Well, sure
enough, on Tuesday, when they was goin along a little
easy, and some on 'em threw the trig right under, and
it brought 'em up with a dreadful jolt.

And then, my stars, if the Sinneters didn't go at it
tie and tie, like smoke. The national republicans pulled
one way, and the democratic republicans 'tother,
with all their might, jest as you and I used to set down
and brace our feet against each other, and take hold of
a stick to see which could pull tother up. They pulled
and grinned all day, but nary side couldn't pull up tother.
The national republicans said they wouldn't stop
for that little trig, nor no notiou of it; and they pulled
the wheels forward as hard as they could. The democratic
republicans braced their feet tother way, and said
the wheels shouldn't move another inch forward; they
had got on to a wrong road, and the Judges had put that
trig there to keep 'em all from goin to destruction; and
they tried all day as hard as they could to roll the wheels
back to find the right road. They pulled like my little
tu year olds all day, but I couldn't see as they started
the wheels backwards or forwards a single hair. This
morning they hitched on and took another jest sich a
pull. The national republicans said they knew the road
as well as the Judges did, and they were goin right and
wouldn't touch to go back; the road was a good plain
smooth road, and there was'nt a mite of danger in goin
on. The democratic republicans said they could hear
some pretty heavy thundering along that road, and

tney'd not go another step that way; but they stood tu
they want afraid of the thunder. The national republicans
said they'd heard thunder before now, and seen
dreadful black clouds all over the sky, and they'd seen
a fair afternoon and a bright rainbow after all that. So
they pulled and disputed, and disputed and pulled, till
most noon, and then they concluded to stop and breath
upon it till to-morrow, when I spose they will spit on
their hands to make 'em stick and begin as hard as ever.

I hope youl'll make haste and get the poles along;
if you cant get any wheels up there, you better tie up a
couple of bundles of 'em and swing 'em across the old
horse, saddle-bag fashion. You'll get well paid for it,
if you get 'em here in season.

LETTER XIII.

Mr. Downing tells what setting up a candidate for
affice means.

Dear Uncle Joshua—I guess by this time, its so
long since I writ home, you almost begin to think Jack
is sick or dead, or gone down to Quoddy long with uncle
Nat, or somewhere else. But you needn't think any
sich thing, for here I am sticking to Portland like wax,
and I guess I shant pull up stakes agin this one while.
The more I stay to Portland the better I like it. Its a
nation fine place; there's things enough here for any
body to see all their life time. I guess I shall tell you
something about 'em before summer's out. These Legislaters
havn't done nothin scarcely worth telling about
this most a fortnight. I've been in most every day jest
to take a squint at 'em. There was n't hardly a bit of
a quarrel to be heard of from one day's end to another.

They were all as good natured and loving as a
family of brothers, that had been living out all summer,
and had jest got home together at thanksgiving time.
They kept to work as busy as bees upon pieces of paper
that they called Bills. Sometimes they voted to read
'em once, sometimes twice, and sometimes three times.
At last the sun begun to shine so warm, that it made 'em
think of planting time, and at it they went, passing Bills
by the gross, [probably a mistake for to be engrossed—
editor,] till they settled 'em away like heaps of corn at
a husking, before a barnful of boys and gals. And
they've got so near the bottom of the heap, they say
they shall brush out the floors in a day or two more, and
start off home. I spose they wont mind it much if they
do brush out some of the ears without husking; they've
had their frolic and their husking supper, and I guess
that's the most they come for. It seems to me, uncle
Joshua, it costs our farmers a great deal more to husk
out their law-corn every winter than it need tu. They
let tu many noisy talking fellers come to the husking.
I've always minded, when I went to a husking, that these
noisy kind of chaps seems to care a good deal more
about what they can get to eat and drink, than they du
about the corn; and them are that don't make much
fuss, are apt to husk the most and make the cleanest
work.

O dear, uncle, there's a hot time ahead. I almost
dread to think of it. I'm afraid there is going to be a
worse scrabble next summer to see who shall go to the
great State husking than there was last. The Huntonites
and Smithites are determined to have each of 'em a
governor agin next year. They've sot up their candidates
on both sides; and who in all the world should
you guess they are? The Huntonites have sot up Mr.
Hunton, and the Smithites have sot up Mr. Smith. You
understand what it means, I spose, to set up a candidate.
It means the same that it does at a shooting
match to set up a goose or a turkey to be fired at. The
rule of the game is that the Smithites are to fire at Mr.

Hunton, and the Huntonites are to fire at Mr. Smith.
They think it will take a pretty hard battle to get them
both in. But both parties say they've got the constitution
on their side, so I think likely they'll both beat.

They've been piling up a monstrous heap of amunition
this winter, enough to keep 'em firing all summer;
and I guess it wont be long before you see the smoke
rising all over the State, wherever there's a newspaper.
I think these newspapers are dreadful smoky things;
they are enough to blind any body's eyes any time. I
mean all except the Daily Courier and Family Reader,
that I send my letters in; I never see much smoke in
them. But take the rest of the papers, that talk about
politics, and patriotism, and republicanism, and federalism,
and Jacksonism, and Hartford Conventionism, and
let any body read in one of 'em half an hour, and his
eyes will be so full of smoke he can't see better than an
owl in the sunshine; he would't be able to tell the
difference between a corn stalk and the biggest oak tree
in our pasture.

You know, uncle, these Legislaters have had some
dreadful quarrels this winter about a book they call the
constitution: and had to get the Judges of the great
Court to read it to 'em. They made such a fuss about it
I thought it must be a mighty great book, as big agin
as grandfather's great bible. But one day I see one of
the Sinneters have one, and my stars, it was n't so big
as my old spelling book. Thinks I to myself, if ax
handles will buy one, I'll have one and see if I cant read
it myself. So I went into a store where they had a nation
sight of books, and asked 'em for a constitution.
They showed me some nice little ones, that they asked
a quarter of a dollar a piece for. I was out of money,
so I told the mon I'd give him four good white oak ax
handles, well finished, for one: and he said, being 'twas
me, I might have it. So now I've got a constitution of
my own, and if I find I can read it, I shall let you
know something about what's in it before a great while.

LETTER XIV.

Mr. Downing informs his Uncle Joshua that he has a
prospect of being nominated for Governor.

Uncle Joshua,—I spose you remember that are
story about the two dogs, that uncle Joe Downing used
to tell; how they got to fighting, and snapped and bit,
till they eat each other up, all but jest the tip ends of
their tails. Now I never could exactly see through
that story, enough to know how it was done, till lately.
I almost thought it was a kind of tough yarn, that had
been stretched a good deal. But fact, uncle, I begin
to think it's true, every word on't; for there's something
going on here as much like it as two peas in a
pod. The Portland Argus and the Portland Advertiser,
have fell afowl of each other and gone to biting
one another's noses off. And if they keep on as they've
began, I guess before summer is out, the'll not only
eat each other all up, tails and all, but I believe they
are going to devour them are tu outragenous wicked
parties, that plagued the legislature so all winter; I
mean the Jacksonites and the Huntonites. They've
only been at it a week or two, and they've made quite
a hole into 'em aready. The Advertiser eats the Jacksonites,
and the Argus eats the Huntonites, and they
are thinning of 'em off pretty fast. This will be a great
comfort to the State, as it will give the two republican
parties a chance to do something another winter. The
Advertiser has eat up the Jacksonites in some places
away down East, such as Eastport and so on, and away
up t'other way in Limerick, and Waterborough, and
Fryeburgh.

And the Augus has caten up the Huntonites in Newfield,
and Sanford, and Berwick, and Vinalhaven, and

so on. All these towns, on both sides, now have good
fair republican majorities. I spose about by the middle
of next August they 'll get 'em all killed off, so there
wont be the skin of a Jacksonite or Huntonite left to
be sent to the next legislature.

I hope uncle Joshua, you will be more careful about
meddling with politicks; for so sure as you get hitched
on the Jackson party or the Hunton party, these barking,
deep-mouthed creatures will fix their teeth upon
you, and you'll be munched down before you know it.

There's one thing, uncle, that seems to wear pretty
hard upon my mind, and plagues me a good deal; I
havn n't slept but little this tu three nights about it. I
wish you would n't say any thing about it up there
amongst our folks, for if it should all prove a fudge,
they'd be laughing at me. But I tell it to you, because
I want your advice, as you've always read the papers,
and know considerable about political matters; tho' to
be honest, I don't spose any one knows much more
about politics by reading the papers, after all.

But what I was going to tell you, is—now, uncle,
don't twist your tobacco chaw over to t'other corner of
your mouth and leer over your spectacles, and say
Jack's a fool—what I was going to tell you, is this: I
see by a paper printed down to Brunswick, that they
talk of nominating me for Governor to run down Smith
and Hunton. Think of that, uncle; your poor neffu
Jack, that last summer was hoeing about among the
potatoes, and chopping wood, and making stone walls,
like enough before another summer comes about, will
be Governor of the State. I shall have a better chance
to flog Bill Johnson then, than I should last winter, if
we hadn't had no Governor nor no laws; for I spose a
Governor has a right to flog any body he 's a mind to.

But that 's nithers here nor there, uncle; I want
your serious advice. If they nominate me, had I better
accept? Sometimes I 'm half afraid I should n't understand
very well how to du the business; for I never
had a chance to see any governor business done, only

what I see Elder Hall du in the Sinnet chamber last
winter. Poor man, that makes me think what a time
he had going home. I wrote to you before that he went
by water, and that the vessel got trig'd by an unconstitutional
wind the first day and had to come back
again. And he must have found a good many hard
trigs after that, for he did n't get home til 2d day of
April.

Where he was, in that dreadful storm the 26th of
March I have n't heard. But I should think after
standing the racket he did last winter in the legislater,
and then this ere storm at sea, he never need to fear any
thing on land or water again in this world.

I wish you 'd write me what you think about my being
a candidate for Governor, and whether you think I
could get along with the business. Considerable part
of the business I should n't be a mite afraid but what I
could du; that is, the turning out and putting in. I
know every crook and turn of that business; for I dont
believe there's a boy in our county, though I say it
myself, that 's turned out and tied up more cattle than
I have. And they say a Governor has a good deal of
this sort of work to du.

LETTER XV.

Mr. Downing's opinion about Newspapers.

Dear Uncle Jack—In my last letter to Ephraim, I
said I should write to you pretty soon something about
the Portland Town Meeting. As you've been sleekman
and survare a good many years, I suppose you'd

like to hear about such kind of things. And I spose I
might tell you about a good many other things tu, that
you don't have much time to know about away there;
and aunt Sally says I ought to; for she says I have a
great many advantages living here in Portland, that
folks can't have up in the country, and if I should
write to some of you once or twice a week, she thinks
it would be time well spent. So I shall spend part of
my evenings, after I get my day's work done, in writing
letters. I don't know but I forgot to tell you that
I had hired out here this summer. I get eight dollars
a month and board, and have the evenings to myself.
I go to school three evenings in a week, and aunt Solly
says that she can begin to see that I spell better already.
The printer of the Courier and the Family Reader, that
sends my letters for me, is very kind; he does'nt ask
any thing for sending my letters, and he gives me as
many newspapers as I can get time to read. So I spend
one evening in the week reading newspapers, and set
up pretty late that evening tu. And besides I get a
chance to read awhile most every morning before the
rest of the folks are up; for these Portland folks are
done of your starters in the morning. I've known
my father many a time, before the rhumatiz took the
poor old gentleman, to mow down an acre of stout
grass in the morning, and get done by that time one
half the Portland folks leave off snoring. Sometimes
I think I better be up in the country tu, mowing or
hoeing potatoes, or something else, instead of reading
newspapers. Its true they are bewitching kind of
things, and like well enough to read 'em, but jest between
you and me, they are the worst things to bother
a feller's head about that you ever see. In one of my
letters you know, I said newspapers were dreadful
smoky things, and any body couldn't read in 'em half
an hour without having their eyes so full of smoke they
couldn't tell a pig-sty from a meeting-house.

But I'm thinking after all they are more like rum
than smoke. You know rum will sometimes set quite

peaceable folks together by the ears, and make them
quarrel like mad dogs—so do the newspapers. Rum
makes folks actvery silly—so do the newapepers. Rum
makes folks see double—so do the newspapers. Sometimes
rum gets folks so they can't see at all—so do the
newspapers. Rum, if they take tu much of it, makes
folks sick to the stomach—so do the newspapers. Rum
makes folks go rather crooked, reeling from one side of
the road to tother—and the newspapers make one half
the politicians cross their path as often as any drunkard
you ever see. It was the newspapers, uncle Joshua,
that made you bet about the Speaker last summer, and
lose your bushel of corn. Remember that, uncle, and
dont believe any thing you see in the papers this summer,
unless you see it in the Daily Courier or Family
Reader; and dont you believe them neither if ever you
see them smoke like the rest of the papers.

As I was a saying about my evenings, I spend one
evening a week reading that little book called the constitution,
that kept our legislators quarrelling all winter.
You know I bought one for four ax-handles; I find
I can read it considerable easy, most all of it without
spelling, and when I get through I shall tell you something
about it.

A queer thought, uncle, has just popt into my head:
I guess I should make a capital member of Congress—
for this letter is just like one of the Congress speeches.
It begun about the town meeting, but not a bit of a word
is there in it from beginning to end about the town meeting,
after you get over the text. But I find by reading
the papers that when a Congress man speaks all day
without touching his subject, he makes a motion to adjourn,
and goes at it again the next day. So I believe
I must say good night to you now, and try it again the
next leisure evening.

LETERR XVI.

The distinction between political parties described.

Uncle Joshua,—Did you ever see tu dogs get to
quarrelling about one bone? How they will snap and
snarl about it, especially if they are hungry. Sometimes
one will get it into his mouth and took it away
like smoke, and t'other arter him full chisel. And
when he overtakes him they'll have another scratch, and
drop the bone, and then t'other one 'll get it, and off he
goes like a shot. And sometimes they both get hold
together, one at one end and one at t'other, and then
sich a tugging and growlin you never see. Well now,
when they act so, they act just like the Portland Argus
and Portland Advertiser; two great big growlers, they
are all the time quarrelling about their Republikin, to
see which will have it. If the Advertiser says any
thing about his republikin, the Argus snaps at it, and
says 'tis n't your republikin, its mine. You no business
to be a republikin, you are a Federalist.

And when the Argus says any thing about his republikin,
the Advertiser flies up, and says, you no business
to be a republikin, you're a Jacksonite. And so they
have it up hill and down, bark, bark, and tug, tug, and
which 'll get the republikin at last I cant tell. Sometimes
they get so mad, seems as though they'll tear each
other all to pieces, and there's forty thousand folks setting
of 'em on and hollering stooboy. Now there was
n't any need of all this quarrel, for each of 'em had a
republikin last winter; the Argus had a democratic one,
and the Advertiser had a national one, and they got
'em mixed by leaving off the chrissen names. And I
guess it would puzzle a Philadelphy lawyer to tell 'em
apart without their names, for their republikins are as
much alike as tu peas in a pod.

The Advertiser never should say republikin alone,
but national republikin, and the Argus never should

say republikin alone, but democratic republican. And
then it seems as though each one might know his own
bone, and knaw it without quarrelling.

I thought, uncle, I'd jest tell you a little about this
ere business, because I know you always want to find
out all the kinks about politiks.

LETTER XVII.

Proceedings of the Great Caucus at Downingville.

From the Portland Courier of July 21, 1830.

THE LONG AGONY OVER,

And my Nomination out.

We delay this paper something beyond the usual hour
of publication in order to lay before our readers the important
intelligence received yesterday from Downingville.—This
we have been able to accomplish, tho' not
without extraordinary exertions and extra help. But
the crisis is important, we had almost said appalling,
and demands of every patriotic citizen of Maine the
highest sacrifices in his power to make. The important
proceedings of the grand convention at Downingville
reached here, by express, yesterday about a quarter before
8 o'clock, P. M. having travelled the whole distance
notwithstanding the extreme high temperature of the
weather, at the rate of thirteen and a half miles an hour.

And but for an unfortunate occurrence, it would undoubtedly
have reached here at least three hours earlier
Capt. Jehu Downing, who with his characteristic magnanimity
and patriotism volunteered to bring the express
the whole way, having taken a high spirited steed
for the first ten miles, was unfortunately thrown to the
ground in attempting to leap a barrier which lay across
the road. Two of his ribs were broken by the fall, and
his right arm so badly fractured that it is feared amputation
must be resorted to, besides several other severe
contusions on various parts of the body. We are happy
to hear however that Doctor Zachariah Downing, who
on hearing the melancholy intelligence very promptly
repaired to the spot to offer his professional services,
pronounces the Captain out of danger, and also that the
Captain bears his misfortune with his accustomed fortitude,
expressly declaring that the only regret he feels
on the occasion is the delay of the express. Here is
patriotism, a devotedness to the welfare of the country,
and to genuine democratic republican principles, worthy
of the days of the revolution.

Lieut. Timothy Downing forwarded the express the
remainder of the way with the utmost despatch, having
run down three horses, one of which died on the road.
—But we keep our readers too long from the gratifying
intelligence received.

Great Democratic National Republican Convention.

Downingville, Monday, July 19, 1830.

At a large and respectable meeting of the democratic
national republicans of Downingville and the neighboring
parts of the state, convened this day at the centre
school house, the meeting was called to order by the
venerable and silver-haired patriarch, old Mr. Zebedee
Downing, who had not been out to a political meeting
before for the last twenty-five years. The venerable old
gentleman stated in a few feeling remarks the object of

the meeting; that he had not meddled with politics since
the days of Jefferson: but that know in view of the awful
calamities which threatened to involve our country
in total ruin, he felt it his duty the little remaining time
he might be spared from the grave, to lift up his voice
and his example before his children, grand children, and
great grand children whom he saw gathered around him,
and encourage them to save the country for which he
had fought and bled in his younger years. After the
enthusiastic applause elicited by these remarks, the old
gentleman called for the nomination of a chairman,
and Joshua Downing, Esquire was unanimously called
to the chair, and Mr. Ephraim Downing appointed
Secretary.

On motion of Mr. Jacob Downing, voted, that a committee
of five be appointed to draft resolutions to lay
before this meeting. Whereupon, Jotham Downing.
Ichabob Downing, Zenas Downing, Levi Downing, and
Isaiah Downing, were appointed said committee, and
after retiring about five minutes they returned and reported
the following preamble and resolutions.

Whereas an awful crisis has arrived in the political
affairs of our country, our public men all having turned
traitors, and resolved to ruin the country, and make us
and our children all slaves forever; and whereas our
ship of state and our ship of the United States, are both
driven with tremendous violence before the fury of the
political tempest, and are just upon the point of being
dashed upon the breakers of political destruction; and
whereas, nothing short of the most prompt and vigorous
exertions of the patriotic democratic national republicans
of this state and of the United States can avert the
impending danger.

And whereas, the Jacksonites, and Adamsites, and
Huntonites, and Smithites, have so multiplied in the
land, and brought things to such a pass, that our liberties
are unquestionably about to receive their doom forever:

Therefore Resolved, that it is the highest and most

sacred duty of every patriotic Democratic National Republican
in the State, to arouse himself and buckle on
his political armour, and make one last, one mighty effort
to save the state and the country, and place the
constitution once more upon a safe and firm foundation.

Resolved, that the awful crisis of affairs in this State
requires a firm devoted patriot, a high-minded and gifted
statesman, and a uniform unwavering Democratic National
Republican, for chief magistrate.

Resolved, that in this awful crisis, we believe the eyes
of all true patriots are turned upon

THE HON. JACK DOWNING,

late of Downingville, but since last winter a resident in
Portland, the capital of the State.

Resolved, that we have the fullest confidence in the
talents, integrity, moral worth, tried patriotism, and unwavering
and unchangeable sterling Democratic National
Republicanism of the Hon. Jack Downing, and that his
election to the office of Governor in September next, and
nothing else, can save the State from total, unutterable,
and irretrievable ruin.

Resolved therefore, that we recommed him to the
electors of this State as a candidate for said office, and
that we will use all fair and honourable means, and, if
necessary, will not stick at some a little dis-honourable,
to secure his election.

Resolved, that we disapprove of personal crimination
and re-crimination in political contests, and therefore
will only say of our opponents, that we think them no
better than they should be, and that they unquestionably
mean to destroy the land we live in.

Resolved, that it be recommended to all the patriotic
democratic national republicans throughout the State, to
be up and doing; to call county meetings, town meetings,
school district meetings, and village and bar-room
meetings, and proceed to organise the party as fast as

possible, by appointing standing committees, and central
committees, and corresponding committees, and bearers
and distributors of handbills; and in short by doing every
thing that the good of the cause and the salvation of
the country requires.

Resolved, conditionally, that in case General Jackson
should be likely to be re-elected, we highly and cordially
approve of his administration, and believe him to
be second to none but Washington; but in case he should
stand no chance of re-election, we resolve him to be the
ignorant tool of a corrupt faction, plotting to destroy the
liberties of the country.

Resolved, that the thanks of this convention be presented
to Miss Abigail Downing, for the use of her
school room this afternoon, she having with a generous
patriotism dismissed her school for that purpose.

Resolved, that the proceedings of this convention,
signed by the chairman and secretary, be published in
the Portland Daily Courier, and the Family Reeder,
the official organs of the Hon. Jack Downing's correspondence,
and any other genuine Democratic National
Republican papers in the State.

JOSHUA DOWNING, Chairman.

Attest: Ephraim Downing, Secretary.

We are assured by Lieutenant Timothy Downing, with
whom we had a short interview, that the best spirit prevailed
in the convention; not a dissenting voice was
heard, and all the resolutions passed unanimously. We
add an extract or two from private letters.

From Ephraim Downing, to the Hon. Jack Downing.

“Well, Jack, if you don't acknowledge we've done
the thing up in style, you're no gentleman and not fit for
Governor. I wish you to be very particular to keep the
Sheriff`s office for me.—Father says cousin Jeremiah
has thrown out some hints that he shall have the Sheriff`s
office. But butter my ristbands, if you do give it to

him you'll go out of office again next year, that's positive.
Jere's a clear factionist, you may rely upon that.
No, no, stick to your old friends, and they'll stick to
you. I'm going to start to-morrow morning on an electioneering
cruise. I shall drum 'em up about right.
You only keep a stiff upper lip, and you'll come in all
hollow.”

From Joshua Downing, Esq. to the Hon. Jack Downing.

“Dear Jack, things look well here; with proper exertions
I think you may rely upon suceess. I am in great
haste, and write this jest to tell you to be sure and not
promise a single office to any mortal living, till I see you.
These things must be managed very prudently, and you
will stand in need of the counsel of your old uncle. I
think I could do as much good to the state by being appointed
Land Agent, as any way; but I'll determine
upon that when I see you.

N. B. Make no promises.

LETTER XVIII.

Particulars and Returns of the Caucus.

Dear Jack,—I have just returned, puffing and blowing,
from town-meeting, and have only time to tell you
that we gave you a confounded good run here. If your
friends in the rest of the State have done their duty, you
are elected by an overwhelming majority. The vote in
this town for governor stood as follows:—

     

Hon. Jack Downing,	87
Hon. Samuel E. Smith,	00
Hon. Jonathan G. Hunton,	00

Capt. Jehu Downing is elected representative; it was
thought to be due to him by the party for his magnanimous
exertions in carrying the express to Portland at
the time you were nominated by our grand convention.

LETTER XIX.

Mr. Downing's ingenious scheme to get an office.

Dear Uncle Joshua:—I am tired of hard work,
and I mean to have an office some how or other yet.
Its true I and all our family got rather dished in the
governor business; if I'd only got in, they should every
soul of 'em had an office, down to the forty-ninth cousin.
But its no use to cry for spilt milk. I've got another
plan in my head; I find the United States offices are
the things to make money in, and if I can get hold of
a good fat one, you may appoint a day of thanksgiving
up there in Downingville, and throw by your work
every one of you as long as you live.

I want you to set me up for member of Congress up
there, and get me elected as soon as you can, for if I
can get on to Washington I believe I can work it so as
to get an office somehow or other.—I want you to be
particular to put me up as a Tariff man. I was agoing
to take sides against the tariff so as to please Gineral
Jackson and all his party, for they deal out the offices
now a days, and you know they've been mad enough

with the tariff to eat it up. But the Portland Advertiser
has been blowin away lately and praising up the
tariff and telling what a fine thing tis, and fact, it has
brought the old gineral round. His great long message
to Congress has just got along here, and the old gentleman
says the tariff wants a little mendin, but on the
whole it's a cute good thing, and we must n't give it up.

LETTER XX.

Cousin Nabby describes the Temperance of Downingville.

I should like to know, cousin Sarah, if you have heard
down there to Portland any thing about a temperance society.
If you have just write and tell me what it means.
You know father wants to know the meaning of every
thing, and so I walked tu miles over to the school-master's
to borry Mr. Walker's dictionary to see what it meant;
and after all I want no wiser than I was afore, for there
wasn't one word in it about temperance societies. Tother
day father sot in the shop door, wondering if Jack would
go to the Congress or not, when a proper great fat red-faced
man came in, and opened a long paper with more
names on it than I could read in a week,—and says he,
Mr. Downing, I want you to sine your name to this paper.
Father took hold of the paper with one hand, and run
tother up under his hat, jest as he always does when he
tries to think; and, my friend, says he, I dont know as I
quite understand what this ere means. Why, says he,

by putting your name down, you promise not to drink
any rum yourself, nor to let any of your family. My conscience,
father understood it then, I can tell you, he
hopped rite out of his chair, and I guess the temperance
man was gone in no time. Well, after father had time
to consider a little he began to feel afraid he had n't
used the man exactly right; for, said he, may be all
places aint like Downingville. I remember reading in
the newspaper of some places where they drink rum as
we do water, and get so drunk that they tumble about
on the ground. And may be the man did n't know but
what we drank it here. And if he was trying to do good
he was n't so much to blame after all. Indeed, Sam,
said he, for Mr. Josslyn came in while he was talking,
I've been told there are shop keepers who retale rum by
the half jill, to men who drink it at their counters, and
some can actually bare that enormous quantity two and
three times in a day. I never see Sam's eyes so big,
Sarah; he look'd as if he wanted to say, that's a whacker,
Mr. Downing; and so thinks I, I will write to Sarah,
and she 'll tell me all about it.

LETTER XXI.

Mr. Downing's account of the dreadful tussle in which
the Jacksonites in the legislature attempt to pour a
“healing act” down the Huntonite's throats.

Dear Uncle Joshua.—If you got my postscript to
this letter that I sent you yesterday, I spose you wont
sleep nor eat much till you hear something more about
it. So I thought I'd try to send you a little bit of a letter
to-day. O dear, uncle, there 's terrible times here
again, and I'm half afraid it's agoing to be worse than
it was last winter. The Legislater 's been all in the
wind this two or three days, pulling and hauling and
fighting like smoke. The wheels of governments are all
stopt; I can say as they are trigged, as they used to be
last winter, but they are fairly stopped, because nobody
dont pull 'em along; for when the members are all pulling
each other's caps, how can they pull the wheels of
government? They seemed to get along very well ever
since they've been here till now, and I thought they most
all belonged to them are two clever parties that tried so
hard to save the State last winter; I mean the democratic
republicans and the national republicans. But
some how or other this week a quarrelsome gang of
Jacksonites and Huntonites has got into the Legislater
and kicked up such a bobbery, it seems as though they'd
tare the State all to pieces. My heart 's been up in my
mouth a dozen times for fear the State would go to ruin
before I could get out of it; and I've scratched round
and picked up what few bean-poles and ax-handles I
had left, and got all ready to sail to Boston, for I'me
determined to be off before the State goes to rack. And
I advise you and all our friends at Downingville to pack
up as soon as you get this letter, and be all ready as
soon as you hear a cracking down this way to fly for
your lives away back into New-Hampshire or Vermont.

The trouble as near as I could understand it begun in
this way. The Jacksonites said the Huntonites worked
so hard last winter in trying to trig the wheels of government,
and tare the constitution to pieces, that they made
themselves all sick, dreadful sick, and had n't got well
yet; and it was time to do something to try to cure 'em;
for their sickness was so catching that all the State
would be taken down with it in a little while, if they
want cured.

But the Huntonites said they want sick a bit; they
never was better in their lives; and moreover, it was
false that they had tried to trig the wheels of government
last winter, or tear a single leaf out of the constitution;
if any thing of that kind was done, they said
the Jacksonites did it, and as for taking doctor's stuff
they'd no notion of it. But the Jacksonites said 'twas
no use, the Huntonites were all sick, and they must take
some doctor stuff, and if they would n't take it willingly
they must be made to take it. So they went to work
and fixed a dose that they called a healing act, that they
said would cure all the Huntonites and any body else
that had catched the sickness of 'em. The Huntonites
declared 'twas no use for 'em to fix it, they never would
take it as long as they lived, that's what they wouldn't;
they were as well as any body, and they'd fight it out
till next June before they'd take it. Howsomever, the
Jacksonites got their dose ready, and yesterday they
carried it into the House of Representatives and told
the Huntonites they must take it, and 'twould do 'em
good. As soon as the Huntonites smelt of it, they turned
up their noses, and said no, before they'd take that
are plaguy dirty stuff they'd fight 'em all over the State,
inch by inch. But the Jacksonites said 'twas no use,
they might sniff as much as they pleased, it was the
only thing that would cure 'em, and they must take it,
and more than all that, they was the strongest and they
should take it.

Some of the Huntonites looked pale as tho' they were
a little grain frightened, and some of them looked red

as though they were mad as a March hair. And some
of 'em begun to talk to the Jacksonites and tell 'em how
unreasonable it was to make 'em take doctor stuff when
they want sick. They were well now, and like as not
if they should take it, 'twould make 'em all sick.

One of 'em, that talked like a very clever man got up
and coaxed 'em to ask the Judges of the great Court if
they thought there was any need of their taking sich a
dose, or if it would do 'em any good if they did take it.
But the Jacksonites said no, they shouldn't ask no sich
questions. They understood the business well enough,
they knew the Huntonites were sick, and they knew
this would cure 'em, and swallow it they should. Well,
the Huntonites see how 'twas gone goose with 'em, and
they thought the only chance left was to put their hands
over their mouths and fight and kick and scrabble with
all their might and keep it out of their throats as long
as they could. Still they tried to talk and reason with
the Jacksonites about it. They asked 'em to let them
have time to examine the medicine carefully and see
what it was made of, or that they would tell 'em what
it was made of, or that they would tell 'em what
it was made of, or why they thought it would do any
good to take it. But the Jacksonites said they should
n't tell 'em any thing about it, it would be `casting
pearls before swine,' and the good book said they must
n't do so.

The men who had fixed the dose knew what they
were about, they had fixed it right, and the Huntonites
must open their mouths and take it, and not parley any
more about it. And now the rale tussle and the hard
fight begun. The House seemed to be so full of Jacksonites
and Huntonites that I guess there was n't but
a few republicans left. And I could n't help minding
that the Jacksonites took the seats of the democratic
republicans, and the Huntonites took the seats of the
national republicans. Well, the Jacksonites took the
dose in one hand, and grab'd the Huntonites with the
other, and tipped their heads back, and were jest agoing
to pour it down their throats, when the Huntonites

fetched a spring and kicked it away to the fourth day
of April. But the Jacksonites run after it and got it
back again in about half an hour, and clinched 'em
again, and got all ready to pour it down; but jest as
they got it almost to their lips, the Huntonites fetched
another spring and kicked it away to the fourth of
March. Away went the Jacksonites after it again, and
brought it back, and clinched the Huntonites in the
same manner as before, and they kicked it away again,
but they didn't kick this time quite to the end of
February.

So they kept it agoing all the forenoon, but every
time the Huntonites kick'd the bitter dose away, it
didn't go so far as it did the last time before. I spose
they begun to grow tired and could n't kick so hard.
Well, then they tried to adjourn so as to get some dinner,
but the Jacksonites would n't let 'em. And they
kept 'em there till four o'clock in the afternoon without
any dinner, and I dont know but they thought the Huntonites
would get so hungry after a while that they
would swallow it down without much fuss. But it all
would n't do, the nearer it come to 'em, the tighter the
Huntonites gritted their teeth together, and I guess
they'd a starved before they would take it. Well after
the Jacksonites had tried nearly twenty times to pour
down the bitter dose, and the Huntonites had kicked it
away as many times, both parties seemed to be nearly
tired out, and so they finally agreed to adjourn till nine
o'clock this morning. I thought the Huntonites, if they
once got out, would cut and run home and get clear of
the plaguy stuff. But instead of that they all come in
again this morning, and they've been at it again all day,
hammer and tongs, the Jacksonites trying to pour it
down, and the Huntonites fighting against it, tooth and
nail.

How it 'll come out I cant tell. Whether the State
will be ruined if they dont take it, I cant tell; or whether
it will cure them if they do take it, I can't tell.
But I can assure you, dear uncle, there's a greater fuss

here, than there was when the little boy said he run and
jumped over a fence and tore his trowses as if the heavens
and earth were coming to pieces. If we live
through it, I shall let you know something more about it.

LETTER XXII.

An account of the manner in which the “healing act”
was crammed down the Huntonites' throats.

Dear Uncle Joshua,—I aint dead, but I spose you
begin to feel kind of uneasy about me, bein I have n't
writ home so long. Well, I'll tell you 'twas; I've had
this ere cold and one thing or another, so bad, I did n't
feel hardly smart enough to write. And besides I got
so skeer'd that night the Jacksonites poured their doctor
stuff, what they call the healing plaster down the
throates of the Huntonites, that I did n't dare to go
nigh 'em again for a good while for fear they'd pour
some of their pesky stuff down my throat. But I'am
sorry I did n't write afore, for I've let it alone so long
now, that my work has got desputly behindhand. When
I writ to you before, the Jacksonites were holding the
Huntonites by the hair of the head with one hand and
trying to cram the healing plaster down their throats
with 'tother, and the Huntonites were kicking and
scrambling, and gritting their teeth together with all
their might, and doubling up their fists and stamping,
and declaring up hill and down, that they would never
take it. And they were so obstropulous about it for a
while. I did n't know as they ever would swallow it.
But the Jacksonites were the stoutest, and held on to
'em like a dog to a root, and kept 'em there all the day
and all the evening till about midnight, and then the

poor Huntonites seemed to be a most dragged out. I
tairly pitied 'em. Along in the first of it they threatened
pretty stoutly, and declared by every thing that's
black and blue, if they had to take this dirty dose and
should happen to be strongest next year, they'd make
the Jacksonites take a dose worth two of this. But all
the threatening did n't do any good; and then they fell
to begging and coaxing, and that did n't do any good
nother. The Jacksonites said they should not only
take it, but they should take it that night before they
slept. At last they got their hands and feet tied, and
kept bringin it up a little nearer and little nearer to
their mouths, and the Huntonites got so they could n't
do nothing but spit. But the Jacksonites did n't mind
the spitting, for you know it is n't for the doctor to
stand about being spit upon a little, when he's giving
medicine. Just before the last ont, the poor Huntonites
rolled their eyes dreadfully, and I believe some on 'em
lost their senses a little; one of 'em took a notion that
they were going to make him swallow a whole live goose,
feathers and all, and he begged of 'em, if they would
n't take out the gizzard and t'other inside things, that
they'd jest pull out the pin feathers, so that it would
n't scratch his throat going down. But they did n't
pay no attention to him, and just before the clock
struck twelve they grabbed 'em by the throat, and pried
their mouths open, and poured it in. The Huntonites
guggled a little, but they had to swallow it. A day or
two afterwards they made some of the Sinneters take
it in the same way. They had a considerable tussle for
it, but not quite so bad as they had in the House.

Some thought this healing dose would make the Huntonites
worse, and some thought it would make 'em
better. I've watch'd 'em ever since they took it whenever
I dared to go near the Legislater, and I can't see
much alteration in 'm. But that, or something else, has
kicked up a monstrous dust amongst other folks all
over the world amost. I've been looking over the
newspapers a little, and I never see the world in such a

terrible hubbub before in all my life. Every body
seems to be running mad; and jest ready to eat each
other up. There's Russia snapping her teeth like a
great bear, and is just agoing to eat up the Poles, I
don't mean Ephraim's bean poles, but all the folks that
live in Poland; not that are Poland up there where Mr.
Dunn lives, but that great Poland over alongside of
Russia. And there's the Dutch trying to eat up Holland,
and the Belgians are trying to eat up the Dutch,
and ther's `five great powers' trying to pour a healing
dose down the throat of the king of the Netherlands,
and there's Mr. O'Connell trying to make the king of
England and Parliament take a healing dose, and
there's Ireland jest ready to eat up Mr. O'Connell, and
all the kings of Europe are trying to eat up the people,
and the people are all trying to eat up the kings.

And our great folks in this country too, away off there
to Washington, have got into such a snarl, I guess it
would puzzle a Philadelphy lawyer to get 'em out of it.
There's the President and Mr. Calhoun and Mr. Van
Buren and the two great republican papers, and half a
dozen more of 'em, all together by the ears; but which
of 'em will eat up the rest I don't know. I have heard
a good many guess that Mr. Van Buren would eat up
the whole toat of 'em; for they say although he is a small
man, there isn't another man in the country, that can
eat his way through a political pudding so slick as he
can. These are dreadful times, uncle; I don't know
what 'll become of the world, if I dont get an office
pretty soon.

It seems to me there must be something out of the
way to make so much confusion in the world; and I
hope the Legislater before they adjourn will pass a general
healing act to cure all these difficulties. They 've
been talking about passing a healing act to cure our
State House up to Augusta, for they say its two small,
and they intend to bring it down here to Portland to
cure it. But I guess it 'll give 'em a pull, for they say
the Kennebeckers are master fellers to hold on.

They had a kind of flusteration here to-day in the
Legislater. The Speaker 's cleared out, and left 'em,
because the Governor said he'd taken his turn sitting in
the Chair long enough, and he must go and sit on the
Bench awhile now. And then they went to work and
chose that good natured man from Monmouth for Speaker.
I meant to a told you about them are two great
meetings they 've had here to make Governors and Presidents
and one thing another: but I haven't time to-day.

One of 'm made Mr. Smith Governor for next year
and Gineral Jackson President; and t'other made Mr.
Sprague governor, and kind of put Mr. Clay a brewing
for President.

If you think its best for me to run again for governor
another year I wish you'd call our friends together up
there and have me nominated, for there's nothing like
starting in season in these matters.

LETTER XXIII.

Mr. Downing's Poetical dream.

Dear Cousin Nabby,—I dont hardly know whether
to send this letter to you, or uncle Joshua. You know
I always send all the the politics and Legislaters to uncle;
but this ere one's most all poetry, and they say
that stuff belongs to the ladies. So I believe on the
whole I shall send it to you. Dont you be skeer'd now
because I 've made some poetry, for I dont think it 'll
hurt me; I dont feel crazy for nothing. But I'll just
tell you how it happened. Last night I was in the Legislater

and they sot out to make a law to tax old bachelors.
They tried pretty hard to make it, and I
thought one spell they 'd get it. I felt kind of bad about
it because I knew it would bear so hard upon cousin
Obediah. Well, I went home and went to bed, and I
dont know what the matter was, but I had a kind of a
queer night of it; and when I got up in the morning
there was a soft sort of sickish stuff kept running off
of my tongue, jest like a stream of chalk. Pray tell
me what you think of it: here it is.

LETTER XXIV.

Dear Uncle Joshua,—I'm in considerable of a
kind of a flusteration to-day, because I've got a new
sceme in my head. New ideas, you know, are always
apt to give me the agitations a little; so you mustn't
wonder if my letter this time does have some rather
odd things in it. I don't know when I've had such a
great scheme in my head afore. But you know I was
always determined to make something in the world,
and if my friends 'll only jest stick by me, I shall make
common folks stare yet. Some thought it was a pretty
bold push my trying to get in to be governor last year;
and some have laughed at me, and said I come out at
the little end of the horn about it, and that I'd better
staid up to Downingville and hoed potatoes, than to be
fishing about for an office and not get any more votes
than I did. But they can't see through a millstone so
fur as I can. Altho' I didn't get in to be governor, its
made me known in the world, and made considerable
of a great man of me, so that I shall stand a much better
chance to get an office if I try again. But I must
make haste and tell you what I am at, for I am in a
great hurry. I guess you'll stare when I tell you the
next letter you'll get from me will be dated at Washington,

or else somewhere on the road between here
and there.

O, uncle, we have had some great news here from
Washington; every body's up in arms about it, and
can't hardly tell what to think of it. They say the
President's four great Secretaries have all resigned;
only think of that, uncle. And they say their salaries
were six thousand dollars a-year; only jest think of
that, uncle. Six thousand dollars a year. Why, a
governor's salary is a fool to it. On the whole, I'm
glad I didn't get the governor's office. I shall start for
Washington to-morrow morning; or I don't know but
I shall start to-night, if I can get ready, and travel all
night. Its best to be in season in such things, and I
shall have to go rather slow, for I've got pretty considerable
short of money, and expect I shall have to foot
it part way. I shall get there in about a fortnight, and
I'm in hopes to be in season to get one of them are
offices. I think it's the duty of all true republicans that
have the good of the country at heart, to take hold and
help the President along in these trying difficulties.—
For my part, I am perfectly willing to take one of the
offices, and I hope some other good men will come right
forward and take the others. What a shame 'twas that
them are Secretaries should all clear out, and leave the
poor old General to do all the work alone. Why, uncle,
they'd no more patriotism than your old hoss.

But I must n't stop to parley about it now; what I
want to say is, I wish you to write a recommendation to
the President for me to have one of his offices, and go
round as quick as you can and get all our friends at
Downingville to sign it, and send it on to Washington
as fast as possible; for it would be no more than right
that I should show the President some kind of recommendation
before he gives me the office. I want you
to tell the President that I've always been one of his
strongest friends; and you know I always have spoke
well of him, and in fact he is the best President we ever
had. It might be well for you to quote this last sentence

as an `extract from a letter of the Hon. Jack
Downing.' It would give the President some confidence
in my friendship, and the `Hon.' would convince
him that I am a man of some standing in the State.

Now you keep up a good heart, uncle; you have always
had to delve hard all your days up there on the
old farm, and you've done considerable to boost me up
into an office, and if I get hold of these six thousand
dollars a year, you shall have a slice out of it that will
make your old heels felt light again. I haven't named
it to a single soul here except cousin Sally, and I want
it to be kept a profound secret till I get the office, so as
to make them are chaps that have been a sneering at
me here, stare like an owl in a thunder shower. And,
besides, if it should leak out that I was going, I'm afraid
somebody else might get the start of me, for there are
always enough that have their mouth open when it
rains such rich porrage. But it's like as not, the newspapers
'll blab it out before I get half way there. And
you needn't think strange, if you see some of the Boston
or New York papers in a few days saying, `The
Hon. Jack Downing passed through this city yesterday,
on his way to Washington. It is rumoured, that he is
to be called upon to fill one of the vacant offices.'—
But I must stop, for it is time I was picking up my duds
for a start. Sally has been darning my stockings all
the morning. Love to Aunt and Cousin Nabby, and
all of 'em. Good by.

LETTER XXV.

Dear Uncle Joshua,—I have got so fur at last, and
a pretty hard run I've had of it to get here, I can tell
ye. This running after offices is pretty tuff work for
poor folks. Sometimes I think there aint much profit
in it after all, any more than there is in buying lottery
tickets, where you pay a dollar and sometimes get four
shillings back, and sometimes nothing. Howsomever I
dont mean to be discouraged yet, for if I should give out
now and go back again, them are sassy chaps in Portland
would laff at me worse than they did afore.—
What makes me feel kind of down hearted about it, is
because I've seen in the newspapers that tu of them are
good offices at Washington are gone aready. One Mr.
Livingston 's got one of 'em, and Mr. Woodbury that
lives up in New Hampshire 's got tother, and I'm considerable
afraid the others will be gone before I get
there.

I want you to be sure and get my recommendation
into the post office as soon as you can, so it may get
there as soon as I do. It's a week to-day since I started
from Portland, and if I have good luck I'm in hopes to
get there in about a week more. Any how, I shall
worry along as fast as I can. I have to foot it more
than three-quarters of the way, because the stage folks
ask so much to ride, and my money's pretty near gone.
But if I can only jest get there before the offices are
gone I think I shall get one of 'em, for I got a good
string of recommendations in Boston as I come along.
I never thought of getting any recommendations of
strangers, till a man I was travelling with, kind of talked
round and round, and found out what I was after.

And then says he, if you want to make out, you must
get the newspaper folks to give you a lift, for they
manage these matters. And he told me I better get
some of the Boston Editors to recommend me, or it
would be no use for me to go.

I thought the man was more than half right, so when
I got into Boston I called round to see the editors.—
They all seemed very glad to see me, when I told 'em
who I was; and I never see a better set of true republicans
any where in the State of Maine. And when I
told 'em that I was always a true republican, and my
father and grand father were republicans before me,
they all talked so cleaver about patriotism, and our republican
institutions, and the good of the people, that I
could n't help thinking it was a plaguy shame there
should be any such wicked parties as Federalists, or
Huntonites, or Jacksonites, to try to tare the country
to pieces and plague the republicans so.

This dont include President Jackson. He is n't a
Jacksonite, you know; he 's a true republican as there is
in Downingville. I had a talk with the Boston Patriot
man first. He said he would give me a recommendation
with a good deal of pleasure; and when I got my office
at Washington I must stick to the good old republican
cause like wax; and if all true republicans were only
faithful to the country, Henry Clay, the republican candidate,
will come in all hollow.

He'll be next President, says he, jest as sure as your
name is Jack Downing. Then I went to see the editor
of the Boston Gazette. He said he certainly should be
very happy to give me a recommendation; and he
trusted when I got to Washington where I should have
considerable influence, I should look well to the interests
of the republican party. He said there was an
immense sight of intrigue and underhand work going
on by the enemies of the country to ruin Mr. Calhoun,
the republican candidate for President. But he said
they would'nt make out; Mr. Calhoun had found out
their tricks, and the republicans of old Virginny and

South Carolina were all up in arms about it, and if we
republicans of the northern states would only take hold
and fight for the good cause, Mr. Calhoun would be elected
as true as the sun will rise to-morrow.

The next I went to see was the editor of the Boston
Statesman. He seemed to be a little shy of me at first,
and was afraid I want a true republican; and wanted to
know if I did n't run against Governor Smith last year
down there in Maine. I told him I had seen Governor
Smith a number of times in Portland, but I was sure I
never run against him in my life, and did n't think I
ever came within a rod of him. Well he wanted to
know if I was n't a candidate for Governor in opposition
to Mr. Smith. I told him no, I was a candidate on the
same side. Was n't you, said he, looking mighty sharp
at me, was 'nt you one of the federal candidates for governor?
My stars, uncle Joshua, I never felt my hair
curl quicker than it did then. My hand kind of draw'd
back and my fingers clinched as if I was jest agoing to
up fist and knock him down To think that he should
charge me with being a federal candidate it was too
much for flesh and blood to bear. But I cooled down
as quick as I could, for fear it might hurt me about
getting my office. I told him I never was a federal candidate,
and there never was a drop of federal blood in
me; and I would run from a federalist if I should meet
one as quick as I would from poison. That's right, says
he, I like that, that's good stuff, and he catched hold of
my hand and give it such a shake, I did n't know but
he'd a pull'd it off.

He said he would give me the best recommendation
he could write, and when I got to Washington I must
stick to the old Gineral like the tooth ach, for the federalists
were intriguing dreadfully to root him out of
his office and upset the republican party. If the republicans
could only be kept together, he said President
Jackson, the republican candidate, could be elected as
easy as a cat could lick her ear; but if we suffered ourselves
to be divided it would be gone goose with us,and

the country would be ruined. So you must stick to the
re-election of Gineral Jackson, said he, at all events; and
then he kind of whispered in my ear, and says he, in
case any thing should happen,if Gineral Jackson should
be sick or any thing, you must remember that Mr. Van
Buren is the republican candidate.

I told him he never need to fear me; I should stick
to the republican party thro' thick and thin. So I took
my recommendation and trudged along. I havn't time
to-day to tell you how I got along with the rest of the
editors, and a thousand other things that I met with
along by the way, and all the fine things in this great
city, and so on. But I shall write to you again soon.

LETTER XXVI.

Dear Uncle Josh,—I've got here at last, to this
great city where they make offices, and I'm determined
not to leave it till I get one. It is n 't sich a great city
after all as New York, though they do a great deal more
business here than they do at New York. I dont mean
vessel business and trade, for there's no end to that in
New York, but in making offices and sich like; and
they say its the most profitable business in the country.
If a man can get hold of a pretty good office, he can

get rich enough by it in three or four years, and not
have to work very hard neither. I tell you what, uncle,
if I make out to my mind here, I shall come back again
one of these days in a rather guess way than what I
come on. I dont have to foot it again I'll warrant you,
and guess poor cousin Sally wont have to set up all
night to mend my coat and darn my stockings. You 'll
see me coming dressed up like a lawyer, with a fine carriage
and three or four hosses. And then them are
chaps in Portland that used to laugh at me so about being
Governor, may sneeze at me if they dare to, and if
they dont keep out of my way I'll ride right over 'em.
I had a pretty tuff time coming on here. Its a long tiresome
road through the Jarseys. I had to stop twice
to get my shoes tapt, and once to get an old lady to sow
up a rip in my coat while I chopped wood for her at the
door to pay for it. But I shant mind all the hard work
I've had of it, if I can make out to come home rich.

I got a pretty good boost in Boston, as I writ you in
my last, by the editors giving me recommendations.—
But it was nothing at all hardly to what I got in New
York, for they gave me a public dinner there. I cant
think what's the matter that it hasn't been published
yet. Major Noah promised me he'd have it all put into
the New York Courier and Enquirer the very next day
after I left New York, so that it should get to Washington
as soon as I did; and now I've been here about
a week and it hasn't come yet. If it does'nt come soon,
I shall write an account of the dinner myself, and send
it home and get it put in the Portland Courier. It
was a most capital dinner, uncle; I dont know as I ever
eat heartier in my life, for being pretty short of money
I had pinched rather close a day or two, and to tell the
truth I was as hungry as a bear. We had toasts and
speeches and a great many good things. I dont mean
sich toast as they put butter on to eat, but toast to drink.
And they dont exactly drink 'em neither; but they
drink the punch and speak the toasts.

I cant think Major Noah meant to deceive me about

publishing the proceedings of the dinner, for he appeared
to be a very clever man, though he was the funniest
chap that ever I see. There was n't a man in New
York that befriended me more than he did; and he
talked to me very candidly, and advised me all about
how to get an office. In the first place, says he, Mr.
Downing, you cant get any kind of an office at Washington,
unless you are a true blue ginuin democratic
republican. I told him I had recommendations coming
to prove that I was all that. They are very strict,
says he, in regard to that at Washington. If James
Madison should apply for an office at Washington, says
he, he could n't get it. What, says I, him that was
President! for it kind of startled me a little if such an
old republican as he was could n't get an office. It's
true, says he, if James Madison should apply for an office
he could n't get it.—Why not, says I? Because,
says he, he has turned federalist. It's melancholy to
think, says he, how many good old republicans at the
south are turning federalists lately. He said he was
afraid there was n't more than one true ginuin old
democratic republican left in Virginny, and that was
old Mr. Ritchie of the Richmond Enquirer; and even
he seemed to be a little wavering since Mr. Calhoun
and some others had gone over.

Well there's Mr. Clay, says I, of Kentucky, I dont
think he'll ever flinch from the republican cause. Henry
Clay, says he, turning up his nose, why he 's been a
federalist this six years. No, no, Mr. Downing, if you
think of going that gate, you may as well turn about and
go home again before you go any further. What gate,
says I? Why to join the clay party, says he. I told
him I never had sich a thought in my life; I always belonged
to the republican party, and always ment to.
He looked rather good natured again when he heard
that; and says he, do you know what the true republican
doctrine is? I told him I had always had some
kind of an idea of it, but I did n't know as I could explain
it exactly. Well, says he, I'll tell you; it is to

support General Jackson for re-election, through thick
and thin. That is the only thing that will save the
country from ruin. And if General Jackson should be
unwell or any thing jest before election, so he could not
be a candidate, the true republican doctrine is to support
Mr. Van Buren. I told him, very well, he might
depend upon my sticking to the republican party, all
weathers. Upon that he set down and wrote me a recommendation
to the President for an office, and it almost
made me blush to see what a master substantial
ginuin republican he made me. I had a number more
capital recommendations at New York, but I hav n't
time to tell you about them in this letter. Some were
to Mr. Clay, and some to Mr. Van Buren, and some to
Mr. Calhoun. I took 'em all, for I thought it was kind
of uncertain whose hands I might fall into hereafter,
and it might be well enough to have two or three strings
to my bow.

I hav n't called on the President yet, though I've been
here about a week. My clothes had got so shabby, I
thought I better hire out a few days and get slicked up
a little. Three of the offices that I come after are gone
slick enough, and the other one's been given away to a
Mr. White, but he would n't take it; so I 'm in hopes I
shall be able to get it. And if I dont get that, there's
some chance for me to get in to be Vice President, for
they had a great Jackson meeting here 'tother day, and
they kicked Mr. Calhoun right out doors, and said they
would n't have him for Vice President no longer. Now
some say they think I shall get it, and some think Mr.
Van Buren 'll get it.

Howsomever, I feel pretty safe, for Maj. Noah told
me if I could n't get any thing else, the President could
easily make a foreign mission for me. I shall call on
the good old Gineral in two or three days and find out
what my luck is, and then I shall let you know. Give
my love to ant and cousin Nabby, and all of 'em. It
makes me feel kind of bad when I think how fur I've
got from home.

LETTER XXVII.

Dear Uncle Josh.—It's pretty trying times herc.
They carry on so like the old smoker, I dont hardly
know what to make of it. If I had n't said I would n't
leave Washington till I got an office, I dont know but
I should come back to Downingville and go to planting
potatoes. Them are Huntonites and Jacksonites down
there in Maine last winter were pretty clever sort of
folks to what these chaps are here. Cause down there
if they get ever so mad, they did n't do nothing but
talk and jaw one another; but here if any body does n't
do to suit 'm, fact they 'll up and shoot him in a minute.
I did n't think getting an office was such dangerous
kind of business, or I dont know as I should have tried
it. Howsomever, it's neck or nothing with me now,
and I must do something to try to get some money here,
for I about as lieves die as to undertake to foot it away
back again clear to the State of Maine. And as the
folks have to go armed here, I want you to put my old
fowling piece into the stage and send it on here as quick
as possible. I hope you'll be as quick as you can about
it, for if I get an office I shant dare to take it till I get
my gun. They come pretty near naving a shooting
scrape here yesterday. The Telegraph paper said something
about Mr. Eaton's wife. It was nothing that I
should think they need to make such a fuss about; it
only said that some of the ladies here refused to visit

her. But some how or other it made Mr. Eaton as mad
as a March hair. He declared he'd fight somebody, he
did n't care who.

The first man he happened to come at was Mr. Ingham.
So he dared Mr. Ingham out to fight. Not to
box, as they do sometimes up in Downingville, but to
stand and shoot at each other. But Mr. Ingham
would n't touch to, and told him he was crazy. That
made Mr. Eaton ten times more mad than he was before;
and he declared he'd flog him any how, whether
he was willing or not. So he got a gang of gentlemen
yesterday to go with him to the Treasury office where
Mr. Ingham does his writing, and waited there and in
a grog shop close by as much as two hours for a chance
to catch him and give it to him. Mr. Ingham was out
a visiting in the city, and when he got home his folks
told him what was going on, and begged him not to go
to the office for he would certainly be killed. Poh,
says he, do you think I'm afraid of them are blustering
chaps? There's more smoke than fire there, I can tell
ye; give me my pistols, it is time for me to go to the
office. Some of the ladies cried, and some almost
fainted away. But he pacified 'em as well as he could,
and then set out for the office, and three or four men
went with him, and I guess they carried something under
their arms that would make daylight shine through
a feller pretty quick. And I guess the gang of gentlemen
waiting for him begun to smell a rat, for they
cleared out pretty soon and never touched him. But
their courage came again in the evening, and this same
gang of gentlemen turned out to Mr. Ingham's house,
and threatened to burst the doors open and drag him
out by the hair of the head and skin him alive. I
thought this was carrying the joke rather too far, so I
tho't I'd put in my oar; for when I see any body run
too hard I cant help taking their part.

So I stepped on to Mr. Ingham's front door steps,
and threw my hat down, and rolled up my sleeves, and
spit on my hands; and by that time the chaps began to

stare at me a little. And now, says I, Major Eaton,
this is quite too bad. A man's house is his castle.
Here's Mr. Ingham in his house as peaceable as a
lamb; he is n't a meddling with nobody, and you need
n't think to drag him out here to-night, I can tell ye.
If you really want to take a bit of a box, just throw
away your powder and ball, and here's the boy for you.
I'll take a fist or two with you and glad of the chance.
You impudent scoundrel, says he, who are you? what
business is it to you what I done? Clear out, or I'll
send you where you ought to be long ago. Well, then,
you'll send me into some good office, says I, for there's
where I ought to have been more than two years ago.
Well, says he, clear out, and up he come blustering
along towards the steps. But I jest put my foot down,
and doubled my fist, and now, says I, Major Eaton,
it wont be healthy for you to come on to these steps to-night.

Says he, I'm going through that door whether or no.
Says I, you dont go through this door to-night, without
you pass over the dead body of Jack Downing of the
State of Maine. My stars, when they heard that, they
dropt their heads as quick as though they had been cut
off, for they did n't know who I was before. Major
Eaton and the whole gang of gentlemen with him turned
right about and marched away as still a pack of
whipped puppies. They were afraid I should have 'em
all up before the President to-day, and have 'em turned
out of office; for it's got whispered round the city that
the President sets a great deal by me, and that I have
a good deal of influence with him.

This morning Mr. Ingham started for Philadelphy.
Before he left, he thanked me a thousand times for defending
his house so well last night, and he wrote a letter
to the President, telling him all about the scrape. I
went a piece with him to see him safe out of the city
on the great road towards Baltimore.

About my prospects for an office, I cant tell you yet
how I shall come out. I've been in to see the President

a number of times, and he talks very favorable. I
have some chance to get in to be Secretary of War, if
old Judge White dont take it; and if I dont get that
the President says he 'll do the best he can for me.

I never had to be so strict a republican before in my
life as I've had to be since I've been here in order to
get the right side of the President. I'll tell you something
about it in my next, and about my visits to the
President, and a good many other famous things here.

P. S. Be sure and send the old gun as soon as possible.

LETTER XXVIII.

Dear Uncle Josh,—I've got it at last as true as
you're alive, and now I dont keer a snap for the fattest
of 'em. I'll teach them are young chaps down to Portland
that used to poke fun at me so because I did n't
get in to be Governor, that they must carry a better
tongue in their heads, or they 'll find out who they are
talking to. I guess they 'll find out by and by it wont
be healthy for 'em to poke fun at an officer of my rank.
And as for Jemime Parsons that married the school
master winter before last, when she had promised as
fair as could be that she would have me, she may go to
grass for what I keer; I would n't have her now no
more than I'd have a Virginny nigger. And I guess

when she comes to see me with my regimentals on she
'll feel sorry enough and wish her cake was dough
again. Now she's tied down to that clodpole of a
school master, that was n't fit for a schoolmaster neither,
for he has had to go to hoeing potatoes for a living, and
much as ever he can get potatoes-enough to keep 'em
from starving, when if she had only done as she had
promised, she might now be the wife of Captain Jack
Downing of the United States Army. But let her go;
as I said afore, I dont care a snap for her or all old
White's cattle. I'll tell you what 'tis uncle, I feel
about right now. It seems to me I could foot it home
in two days, for my feet never felt half so light before.
There's nothing like trying, in this world, uncle; any
body that tries can be something or other, if he dont get
discouraged too soon. When I came on here, you
know, I expected to get one of the great Secretaries'
offices; but the good old President told me they had got
him into such a hobble about them are offices that he
could n't give me one of 'em if he was to die. But he
treated me like a gentleman, and I shall always vote for
him as long as I live, and I told him so. And when he
found out that I was a true ginuin republican, says he,
Mr. Downing, you must be patient, and I'll bear you in
mind, and do something for you the very first chance.
And you may depend upon it Mr. Downing, he added
with a good deal of earnestness, I never desert my
friends, let that lying Stephen Simpson of Philadelphy
say what he will about it, a good for nothing ungrateful
dog. And he fetched a stomp with his foot and his eyes
kind of flashed so fiery, that I could n't help starting
back, for I did n't know but he was going to knock me
over. But he look'd pleasant again in a minute, and
took me my the hand, and now, says he, Mr. Downing,
I give you my honour that I'll do something for you as
soon as I possibly can. I told him I hoped he would be
as spry as he could about it, for I had but jest nine-pence
left, and I did n't know how I should get along
very well, in a strange place too. But he told me never
to mind that at all; I might come and eat my meals at
his house whenever I'd a mind to, or he would be bondsman
for my board where I put up. So I've worked
along from that time to this, nearly for months, as well
as I could, sometimes getting a little job of garden-work,
and sometimes getting a little wood to saw, and so on,
nearly enough to pay my expenses. I used to call and
see the President once in a while, and he always told
me I must be patient and keep up a good heart, the
world was n't made in one day, and something would
turn up for me by and by. But fact, after digging, and
sawing, and waiting four months, my patience got most
wore out, and I was jest upon the point of giving up
the chase, and starting off for Downingville with the
intention of retiring to private life; when last night,
about seven o'clock, as I sot eating a bowl of bread and
milk for my supper, a boy knocked at the door and
wanted to see Mr. Downing. So they brought him into
the room where I was, and says he, Mr. Downing,
the President wants to see you for something very particular,
right away this evening. My heart almost
jump'd right up in my mouth. My spoon dropt out of
my hand, and to eat another mouthful I could n't if I
was to starve. I flew round, and washed my face and
hands, and combed my head, and brushed up as well
as I could, and should have looked tolerable spruce if
it had n't been for an unlucky hole in the knee of my
trowsers. What to do I did not know. It made me
feel bad enough I can tell you. The woman where I
boarded said she would mend them for me if I would
take them off, but it would take her till about nine
o'clock, and the President was waiting for me, and
there 'twas. Such a hobble I never was in before. But
this woman is a kind good creature as ever was; she
boards me for four and sixpence a week, considering
that I split wood for her, and bring water, and do all
sich kind of chores. And she always had some contrivance
to get out of every difficulty; and so she handed
me a neat little pocket handkerchief and told me to
tie that round my knee. Being thus rigged out at last,
I started off as fast as I could go for the President's.

When I went into his room, the old gentleman was
setting by a table with his spectacles on, and two great
lamps burning before him, and a bundle of letters and
papers in his hand. He started up and took me by the
hand, and says he, good evening Mr. Downing, I'm very
glad to see you; you are the very man I want now,
above all others in the world. But how is this, said he?
looking at my knee. Not lame, I hope? That would
be a most unfortunate thing in this critical moment. It
would knock my plan in the head at once. I felt kind
of blue, and I guess I blushed a little; but I turned it
off as well as I could; I told him I was n't lame at all,
it was nothing but a slight scratch, and by to-morrow
morning I should be as well as ever I was in my life.
Well then says he, Mr. Downing, set down here and see
what I've got to tell you. The old gentleman set himself
back in his chair and pushed his spectacles up on
his forehead and held up the letter in his hand, and says
he, Mr. Downing, here is a letter from Governor Smith
of Maine, and now Sir, I've got something for you to
do. You see now that I was sincere when I told you
if you would be patient and stick to the republican text,
I would look out for you one of these days. I'm always
true to my friends; that lying Stephen Simpson
might have had an office before now if he had behaved
himself.

Well, dear sir, said I, for I felt in such a pucker to
know what I was going to get that I could n't stand it
any longer, so says I, what sort of business is it you 've
got for me to do? Says he, Mr. Downing, I take it you
are a man of courage; I have always thought so ever
since you faced Mr. Eaton so boldly on Mr. Inghams'
door steps. Tho' I was sorry your courage was not displayed
in a better cause, for that Ingham is a rascal after
all. I told him as for courage I believed I had some of
the stuff about me when there was any occasion for it,
and that I never would stand by and see any body

abused. Well, says he, we must come to the point, for
the business requires haste.

Governor Smith writes me that there are four of your
fellow citizens of Maine in a British jail at Frederiction,
who have been taken from their farms by British constables
and sheriffs and other officers and carried off by
force to prison. By this time my very hair begun to
curl, I felt so mad, and I could n't help jumping up and
smiting my fists together, and saying pretty hard things
about the British Well, says the President, I like your
spunk Mr. Downing; you're jest the man I want in this
business. I'm going to give you a captain's commission
in the United States' army, and you must go down there
and set that business right at Madawaska.

You must go to Maine and raise a company of volunteers
as quick as possible, tell 'em I 'll see 'em paid,
and you must march down to Fredericton and demand
the prisoners, and if they are not given up you must
force the jail, and if the British make any resistance
you must fire upon them and bring the prisoners off at
some rate or other. Then write me and let me know
how affairs stand, and I 'll give you further orders. At
any rate you must see that the rights of Maine are well
protected, for that state has come round so in my favor
since last year I'm determined to do every thing I can
for them; I tell you Mr. Downing, I never desert my
friends. So after he gave me the rest of my orders, and
my commission, and a pocket full of money, and told
me to be brave and if I wanted any thing to let him
know, he bid me good night, and I went home. But I
could n't sleep a wink all night. I was up before day
light this morning, and I 've got two women to work for
me to day fixing up my clothes, and I shall be ready to
start to morrow morning. I want you to keep this matter
pretty still till I get there, except that you may let
cousin Ephraim know it and get him to volunteer some
of the Downingville boys for my company. I want to
get them pretty much all there if I can, for I know what

sort of stuff the Downingville boys are made of, and
shall know what I 've got to depend upon.

LETTER XXIX.

My dear old Friend, you.—I got home to Downingville
last night after an absence of nearly two years.
I meant to stop at Portland as I come on from Washington,
but some how or other, I got into the wrong
stage somewhere in New Hampshire, and come the upper
road before I knew it. So the first thing I knew,
when I thought I had got almost to Portland, I found
myself plump in Downingville. But the dear folks
were all so glad to see me, I didn't feel much sorry.
Cousin Nabby hopped right up and down, like a mouse
treed in a flour barrel; and Ephraim snapped his thumb
and finger, and spit on his hands as though he had a
cord of wood to chop; and poor ant Keziah set down
and cried as much as two hours steady. Uncle Joshua
catched down his pipe, and made the smoke roll out
well; I never saw him smoke so fast before in my life;
he finished two pipes full of tobacco in less than five
minutes. I felt almost like a fool myself, and had to
keep winking and swallowing, or I should have cried
as hard as any of 'em. But you know it wouldn't do
for a captain to cry, especially when he was going to
enlisting soldiers.

Well, I must hurry along with my letter, for I have
n't got much time to write to-day. I have been round

among the folks in Downingville this forenoon to see
how they felt about the Madawaska business, and whether
any of 'em would go a sogering down there with
me. I find some of 'em are right up about it, and
ready to shoulder their guns and march to-morrow if I
say the word, and others are a little offish.

I guess I shall get about half enough for a company
here pretty easy, and if I find it hard dragging to pick
up the rest, I shall come right down to Portland to fill
up my company there. For uncle Joshua tells me he
has had some letters from Portland within a few days,
and he says there are a number of chaps down there as
warm as mustard about going to war down to Madawaska,
and are only waiting for a good chance to list,
and some of 'em he thinks will make capital sargents
and corporals. I should be glad if you would send me
word whether you think I could pick up some good lusty
fellows there in case I should want 'em. I pay a month's
wages cash down. But there is one subject that I feel
rather uneasy about, and that is the greatest reason of
my writing you to-day, to see if you can tell me any
thing about it. Last night uncle Joshua and I sot up
talking politicks pretty late, after all the rest of the
folks had gone to bed. I told him all about one thing
or another at Washington, and then we talked about
the affairs of this State.

I found uncle Joshua did't stand jest where he used
to. You know once he was a little mite in favor of
Mr. Hunton; and then, when I was up for Governor,
he was altogether in favour of me; and then he was
pretty near equally balanced between Mr. Smith and
Mr. Goodenow; but now, when I come to talk with
him, I found he was all plump over on the democratic
republican side. You know I've been leaning that way
tu, ever since I got in to be good friends long with President
Jackson. So says I, Well, uncle, our party is
strong enough now to carry all afore 'em in this State.
I guess governor Smith will have more than three quarters
of the votes next time. At which uncle turned

round towards me, and rolled up his great eyes over his
spectacles, and took his pipe out of his mouth and put on
a mighty knowing look, and says he, Jack, jest between
you and me, a much better man and a much greater republican
than Gov. Smith, will be Governor of the State
of Maine after another election.

I was kind of struck with a dunderment. I sot and
looked at him as much as two minutes, and he all the
time looked as knowing as a fox. At last, says I, Uncle,
what do you mean? Did n't all the democratic republican
papers in the State, when Gov. Smith was elected,
say he was the very best republican there was in the
State for Governor. Well, well, Jack, said he, mark
my words, that's all. But, said I, uncle, what makes
you think so? O, said he, I have read the Argus and
the Bangor Republican, and I have had a letter from a
man that knows all about it, and when the time comes
you 'll see. And that was all I could get out of him.
Now I wish you would let me know what this mystery
means. And I remain your old friend,

LETTER XXX.

My good old Sir.—The prisoners are out and no
blood spilt yet. I had prepared to give the British a
most terrible battle, if they had n't let' em out. I guess
I should made 'em think old Bonapart had got back
among 'em again, for a keener set o fellows than my

company is made up of never shouldered a musket or
trod shoe-leather. I was pesky sorry they let'em out
quite as soon, for I really longed to have a brush with
'em; and how they come to let 'em go I dont know,
unless it was because they heard I was coming. And I
expect that was the case, for the prisoners told me the
British Misnister at Washington, sent on some kind of
word to Governor Campbell, and I suppose he told him
how I had got a commission, and was coming down
upon New Brunswick like a hurrycane.

If I could only got down there a little sooner and fite
sich a great battle as you did at New Orleans, my fortune
would have been made for this world. I should
have stood a good chance then to be President of the
United States, one of these days. And that's as high
as ever I should want to get. I got home to Downingville
in little more than a week after I left you at Washington,
for having a pretty good pocket full of money,
and knowing that my business was very important, I
rid in the stage most all the way. I spose I need n't
stop to tell you how tickled all my folks were to see me.
I did n't know for awhile but they'd eat me up. But I
spose that's neither here nor there in making military
reports, so I'll go on. I found no difficulty in getting
volunteers. I believe I could have got nearly half the
State of Maine to march if I had wanted 'em. But as
I only had orders to list one good stout company, I took
'em all in Downingville, for I rather trust myself with
one hundred ginuin Downingville boys, than five hundred
of your common run. I took the supernumerary
however, when I got to Bangor. The editor of the
Bangor Republican was so zealous to go, and said he'd
fight so to the last drop of his blood, that I could n't
help taking him, so I appointed him supernumerary
corporal. Poor fellow, he was so disappointed when he
found the prisoners were out that he fairly cried for
vexation. He's for having me go right on now and give
all New Bruaswick a real thrashing.

But I know what belongs to gineralship better than

that; I have n't had my orders yet. Well, after we
left Bangor we had a dreadful rough and tumble sort of
a journey, over rocks and mountains and rivers and
swamps and bogs and meadows, and through long pieces
of woods that I didn't know as we should find the way
out. But we got through at last, and arrived here at
Madawaska day before yesterday. I thought I better
come this way and make a little stop at Madawaska to
see if the prisoners' wives and little ones were in want
of any thing and then go down to Fredericton and blow
the British ski high.

When our company first came out in sight in Madawaska,
they thought it was the British coming to catch
some more of 'em; and such a scattering and scampering
I guess you never see. The men flew into the
woods like a flock of sheep with forty dogs after 'em,
and the women catched their babies up in their arms
and run from one house to another screeching and
screaming enough to make the woods ring again. But
when they found out we were United States troops
come to help 'em, you never see any body so glad.—
They all cried for joy then. The women run into the
woods and called to their husbands to come back again,
for there was nobody there that would hurt them, and
back they came and treated us with the best they had in
their houses. And while we sot chatting, before the
women hardly got their tears wiped up, one of 'em
looked up towards the woods and screamed out there
comes the prisoners. Some turned pale a little, thinking
it might be their ghost, but in a minute in they come,
as good flesh and blood as any of us, and then the women
had another good crying spell.

I asked one of the prisoners how they got away, for
I thought you would want to know all about it; and says
he we come away on our legs. Did you break out of
jail, said I? I guess there was no need of that, said he,
for we want locked in half the time. Did you knock
down the guard, said I, and fight your way out?—
Humph! said he, I guess we might have hunted one

while before we could find a guard to knock down.
Nobody seemed to take any care of us, if we wanted a
drop of grog we had to go out and buy it ourselves.—
Well but, said I, it you were left in such a loose state
as that, why did you not run away before? Tut, said
he, shrugging up his shoulders, I guess we knew what
we were about; the longer we staid there the more land
the state of Maine would give us to pay us for being
put in jail, but when they turned us out of jail, and
would n't keep us any longer, we thought we might as
well come home.

And now, my good old sir, since matters are as they
are, I shall take up my head quarters here at Madawaska
for the present, and wait for further orders. I shall
take good care of the people here, and keep every thing
in good order, and not allow a single New Brunswicker
to come any where within gun-shot. As for that Leftenant
Governor, Mr. Archibald Campbell, he better
keep himself scarce; if he shows his head here again,
I shall jest put him into a meal bag and send him to
Washington. I shall expect to hear from you soon, and
as I shall have to be here sometime, I dont know but you
had better send me on a little more money. My uniform
got rather shattered coming through the woods,
and it will cost me something to get it fixt up again.

LETTER XXXI.

My dear old Friend,—Here I am right among the
Legislater folks, jest as I used to be down there to

Portland. I got here last night after a pretty hard journey
from Madawaska, rather lame, and my feet and
ears froze pretty bad. I hope I shant lose any of 'm,
for if I should lose my feet I should n't stand much of
a fag with the British down there to Fredericton in case
we should have a brush with 'em. And all my hopes
about ever being President of the United States depends
on the woful whipping I'm going to give the British.
And I'm afraid I should n't be much better off if
I should lose my ears, for a President without ears
would cut rather a sorry figure there to Washington.
I sent on to the old President to see if he would let me
have a furlough to come up to Augusta, while the Legislaters
were here, for I thought I could n't stan it
without being here to see how they get along. The
President said he did n't think there would be any
fighting down to Madawaska before the spring opens,
so he did n't care if I went. I jest hobbled into the
Legislater to-day to see 'em chuse officers; but I have
n't any time to tell you what a great fine house they 've
got into. I believe it 's vastly better than the one they
had to Portland though. And I guess there 'll be no
stopping the wheels of government this year, for I believe
they have got the house fixed so as to carry the
wheels by steam. They got the steam up before I went
in, and it was so thick sometimes, that I should think
the wheels might go like a buzz.

They told me there was a good many new members,
and a good many more of 'em, than there was last year;
so I did n't know as I should see hardly any body that
I knew. But I never was more agreeably disappointed
in my life than I was by the first voice I heard calling
the members to order.

I knew it as quick as I could tell the fife and drum
of my own company at Madawaska. And if I should
hear the fife and drum this very minute it would n't
give a pleasanter thrill to my feelings. I look'd round
and sure enough there was the sandy honest look, and
the large fleshy figure, of my old friend Mr. Knowlton

of Montville, holding a broad brimmed hat in his hand,
and calling upon the great jam of folks to come to order.
I could n't hardly help crowding right in among
'em to shake hands with him, I was so glad to see him.
But as I was only a lobby member I tho't it would n't
do.

But I 'll tell you what 'it is, you may depend upon
the business going off glibb here this winter; for having
a building go by steam and Mr. Knowlton here to
drive it, it aint all the Jacksonites and Huntonites in
the state that can stop it. And besides I cant find out
as yet that there is any more than one party here; it
there should be hereafter, I 'll let you know. I was
glad they chose Mr. White to be speaker, for he's always
so good natured and uses every body so well, I
cant help liking him. I have n't been in the Sinnet
yet, but they say Mr. Dunlap is President. I was in
hopes to see Elder Hall here this winter, but I believe
he has n't come.

LETTER XXXII.

My dear old Friend,—If I could n't write to you
once in a while, I don't know but I should die. When
any thing has kept me from writing two or three weeks,
I get in such a taking it seems as though I should split,
and the only way I can get relief is to take my pen and
go at it. The reason why you have n't heard from me
this fortnight past, is this dreadful furenza. We've all

got it here, and it's nothing but cough, cough, the whole
time. If a member gets up to speak, they all cough at
him. If he says any thing that they like, they cough
at it; and if he says any thing that they dont like, they
cough at it So let him say what he will they keep a
steady stream of coughing. I've been amost sick for a
week. Some days I want hardly able to set up. But
I'm getting cleverly now, and I hope I shall be able to
let you hear from me once or twice a week during the
session.

The wheels of government go pretty well this winter.
Some say that some folks have tried to trig 'em two or
three times, but I dont hardly think that is the case, for
they havn't been stopt once. And, as I said in my last
letter, if my friend Mr. Knowlton stands as foreman,
and keeps his broad shoulders to the wheels, I dont believe
they will stop this winter. By the way, I made
a little small mistake about Mr. Knowlton's hat. I
should n't have thought it worth while to mention it
again, if the Augusta Courier of this morning had n't
spoke of it as though I did n't mean to tell the truth.
Now you know Mr. Editor, I would n't be guilty of
telling a falsehood for my right hand. When Mr.
Knowlton called the members to order the first day of
the session, I certainly thought I saw him holding in
his hand a broad brimmed white hat. It might be my
imagination, remembering how he used to look, or it
might possibly be the hat of the member standing by
the side of him, for I was a good ways off.

I'm pesky fraid the general government may settle
that hash down there to Madawaska as Mr. Netherlands
that they left out to, recommended. If they
should I'm afraid my jig would be up about fighting a
battle very soon, or getting in to be President.

Our party's got into a dreadful kind of a stew here
about who shall be next Senator to Congress and one
thing or another. We've got into such a snarl about it,
I'm afraid we never shall get unravelled again without
cutting off the tangles, and that would divide us so we

never could hold together in the world. I wrote to the
Argus yesterday, to be sure not to reply to the Age for
its ungentlemanly remarks about Judge Preble, and
hope it will be prudent enough to follow my recommendation.
We must try to hush these matters up, or it
'll be the death of the party. I've had a serious talk
with friend Ruggles, and am in hopes he'll put his hand
over the Thomaston paper and not let it belch out any
thing that our enemies can make a handle of. And I
guess we shall have a caucus and try to put a cooler on
the Bangor Republican and the Age.

The Legislaters like Augusta considerable well, if
it did n't cost 'em so much more than it did in Portland
for a living. Such as had to pay two dollars and
a half in Portland for board have to pay three and four
dollars here. When I was in Portland, I used to get
boarded for seven and sixpence a week, and here the
cheapest I could get boarded any where, was ten and
sixpence. The Augusta Courier last week said something
about the folks here giving me a public dinner. I
should like it pretty well, for I have rather slim dinners
where I board.

If you see cousin Sally, I wish you'd jest ask her if
she has time before and after school, if she'll knit me a
pair of footings and send 'em up by the stage-driver,
for mine have got pretty full of holes, and I have n't
any body here to mend 'em.

LETTER XXXIII.

Dear Friend,—The more I write to you, it seems
to me the better I like you. I believe there is n't but
one person that I set so much by, and that is Gineral
Jackson, who was so kind as to give me a commission,
and let me have spending money besides. I 'm pretty
much out of money now, and the man that I board
with keeps dunning me for pay; so I wish you would
be so kind as to send me four or five dollars till I get
some more from the President. I writ for it last week,
and I think I shall get it in a few days. I told you in
my last letter, if I got over the furenza, you should
hear from me pretty often. I 'm getting nicely again
now. I dont cough more than once in five minutes or
so, and my toes and ears that were froze so bad coming
up from Madawaska are nearly healed over. All I
have to do to 'em now is jest to grease 'em a little when
I go to bed at night and in the morning when I get up.
I have to keep a handkerchief over my ears yet when
I go out, but my toes are so well I dont limp hardly a
mite. As to our legislater business we get along middling
well, but not quite so fast as I thought we should
considerin it goes by steam. One reason I suppose is
because Mr. Knowlton has been a good deal unwell
and could n't take hold and drive it right in end as he
used to. But he 's got better now, so I hope the wheels
will begin to buzz again.

About the quarrel that our party's got into, I 'm
pesky fraid it 'll blow us up yet; and I don't know
what we shall do to stop it. We 've had a caucus as
I told you we should in my last letter, and tried to
hush matters up as well as we could. But some of 'em

are so grouty, I expect nothing but what they 'll belch
out again.

I was glad the Argus took my advice and kept back
the reply to the Age.

We had a little bit of a tussle here to see who should
be appointed agent to go to Washington to tell the president
to hold on to the territory down to Madawaska.
Mr. Preble and Mr. Deane and I were the three principal
candidates. Some thought Mr. Preble ought to
go because it would be for the interest of the republican
party; and some thought Mr. Deane ought to go because
he had been down there a good deal and knew all
about the Madawaska country; and some thought I
ought to go because I had been down there the last of
any body, and because I was such good friends with the
President I should be likely to do better than any body
else could. I thought my claims were the strongest,
and the Governor said he thought so too. But he said
as affairs now stood it would n't do to appoint any body
but Mr. Preble.

And besides I dont know as I ought to go off jest now,
for I had a letter yesterday from one of my subalterns
down to Madawaska, that there 's some trouble with my
company there: some of the Sarjeants been breaking
orders, &c., and I dont know but I shall have to go down
and Court Martial 'em.

LETTER XXXIV.

Here I be again, my dear friend, right back on
the old spot, poking about the Legislater to see what's
going on, and to help take care the interests of our
party. I got down there to Madawaska jest in the
nick of time; for I got a hoss and rid day and night;
and it was well I did, for Sargant Joel had got so outrageous
mad, I raly believe if I had n't got there the
day I did, he would have strung one or two of 'em
right up by the neck. But I quashed matters at once
and sot 'em to studyin that are little court martial book,
and told 'em when they had any more fuss, they must
try all their cases by that, and they would n't find any
law for hanging in it.

It 's dreadful cold down there to Madawaska, I froze
my toes and ears agin, a little, but not so bad as I did
afore, for I took care to rop up in a great bear skin. I
see the Legislater's been disputing about passing a
law to kill off all the bears and wolves and sich kind
of critters.

I dont know whether that's a good plan or not.—
There's a good deal might be said on both sides.—
Them are bears are pesky mischievous. I heard a
story while I was gone, but I dont know how true it is,
how a great bear chased the Councillor that the Governor
sent down to Frederickton, to carry provisions to
our prisoners in jail there. Some reckoned the bear
smelt the bread and cheese that he had in his saddle
bags, and so took after him to get some of it. However,
the Councillor got back safe. But I think this is

a great argument in favour of killing off all the bears.
And on the other hand, I believe the bear skin was all
that kept me from freezing to death going to Madawaska
t'other day. So it seems we ought not to kill 'em
quite all off, but raise enough to keep us in bear skins;
for I suppose my life would be worth as much to the
State as the Councillor's.

I feel a little put out with Dr. Burnham for an unhandsome
running he gave me t'other day in the Senate.
He called me an `old rogue.' I cant swallow that
very well; for that's a character I never bore in Downingville,
nor Washington nor any where else. He was
disputing about paying Mr. Deane and Mr. Cawano for
going to Madawaska. He said they had n't ought to
pay so much, for if they went on at this rate, next thing
that old rogue, Capt. Jack Downing, would be sending
in his bill.

But he need n't trouble himself about that, for as
long as I have President Jackson to look to for paymaster,
I dont care a snap about sending in my bills to
to Legislater. But as for being called an old rogue, I
wont. I dont mean to make a great fuss about it in the
papers, as the Argus, and the Age did, so as to break up
the harmony of the republican party. But if Dr. Burnham
dont give me satisfaction, I'll call a caucus of the
party and have him over the coals and du him over.

LETTER XXXV.

My Dear Old Friend,—I begin to feel as uneasy
as a fish out of water, because I havn't writ to you for
most two weeks. Now, old March has come, and
found us digging here yet; and sometimes I'm most
afraid we shall be found digging here, when we ought
to be at home digging potatoes, or planting of 'em at
least. I've been waiting now above a week for the
Legislater to do something, that I could write to you
about; but they dont seem to get along very smart lately.
Sometimes the wheels almost stop; and then they
start and rumble along a little ways and then drag
again. I dont think we shall get through before sometime
next week, if we do before week arter. These
secret sessions take up a good deal of time. I dont see
what in natur they have so many of 'em for. I tried to
get into some of 'em, but they wouldn't let me; they
said lobby members had no business there, and shut
the door right in my face. There's one kind of business
though that they carry on here pretty brisk lately,
and that is making lawyers. Some days they make
'em almost as fast as uncle Ephraim used to make saptroughs;
and I've known him to chop off and hew out
two in fifteen minutes.

But for all the Legislater can make 'em so fast, it is
as much as ever they can get along with all that come
and want to be made over into lawyers. And 'tother
day, when the law committee got pretty well stuck,
having so many of 'em on hand, a new batch come up,
and Mr. Hall of your town moved to refer them to the
committee on manufactures. This is a capital committee
to make things, and I havn't heard any complaint

since, but what they can turn 'em out as fast as
they come. It rather puzzled me at first to know what
made every body want to be worked over into lawyers;
so I asked one of 'em that stood waiting round here a
day or two, to be put into the hopper and ground over,
what he wanted to be made into a lawyer for? And he
kind of looked up one side at me, and give me a knowing
wink, and says he, don't you know that the law
yers get all the fat things of the land, and eat out the
insides of the oisters, and give the shels to other folks?
And if a man wants to have any kind of an office, he
can't get it unless he's a lawyer; if he wants to go to
the Legislater, he can't be elected without he's a lawyer:
and if he wants to get to Congress, he cant go
without he's a lawyer; and any man that don't get
made into a lawyer as fast as possible, I say, is a fool.
The whole truth come across my mind then, as quick
as a look, why it was that I spent two or three years trying
to get an office, and couldn't get one. It was because
I wasn't a lawyer. And dont believe I should
have got an office to this day, if my good friend President
Jackson hadn't found out I was a brave two fisted
chap, and just the boy to go down to Madawaska and
flog the British.

We've agreed unanimously to support Governor
Smith for re-election; and he'll come in all hollow, let
the Jacksonites and Huntonites say what they will
about it. Our party know too well which side their
bread is buttered, to think of being split up this heat.
I should write you more to day, but I feel so kind of
agitated about these secret sessions, that I cant hardly
hold my pen still. I'm a little afraid they are intriguing
to send on to the President to take my commission
away from me. It has been thrown out to me that
I ought to be down to Madawaska, instead of being
here all winter. Some have hinted to me that Mr.
Clifford has taken a miff against me, because the other
day when he was chosen Speaker pro. tem. one of my
friends voted for me; and he thinks I was a rival candidate,

and means to have me turned out of office if he
can.

LETTER XXXVI.

My dear old friend,—I cleared out from Augusta
in such a kind of a whirlwind, that I had n'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 fite in the I egislater as long as fighting
would do any good, that is, I mean in the caucus,
for they would n'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 on 'em on sich business
as this. I laid it down to 'em in the caucus as
well as I could. I asked 'em if they did n'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 on 'em set 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 could n't be helped, Mr. Netherlands had given
away the land 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 Madawaska 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 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 did'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 to 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 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.

LETTER XXXVII.

When I arrived in this city, last night, from Madawaska,
jest after the hubbub was over about the election,

I was informed some of my friends in Ward No.7, had
voted for me for Mayor. I believe the votes are put in
the papers long with the scattering votes, as I see they
dont publish my name.

Now the upshot ont is, I cant take that are office,
I've got so much other business to attend to. And so I
take this opportunity to declare that I absolutely decline
being a candidate. I have a great regard for the citizens
of Portland, for it was they that first gave me a boost
up towards an office, and I should be very glad to do
any thing for 'em that I could; but I must beg to be
excused from being Mayor this year.

LETTER XXXVIII.

My dear old friend,—I have n't done any thing
this three months that seemed so natural as to set down
and write to you. To write the name of the Portland
Courier raises my sperits right up. I makes me feel as
if I was again talking with you, and uncle Joshua, and
cousin Ephraim, and cousin Nabby, and ant Sally, and
all of 'em. I and President Jackson got back here yesterday
from Tennessee, where we've been gone most all
summer. And a long journey we've had of it too. I

thought that from here to Portland was a dreadful ways,
but it's a great deal further to Tennessee. I did n't
think before that our country was half so large as I find
it is. It seems as if there was no end to it; for when
we got clear to Tennessee the President said we want
half way acrost it. I could n't hardly believe him, but
he stood tu it we want. Why, says he, Jack, I've got
the largest country in the world, and the hardest to govern
tu. Say what you will of free governments, where
folks will act pretty much as they are a mind to, it's the
hardest work to administer it that ever I did. I had
rather fight forty New Orleans battles than to govern
this everlasting great country one year. There are so
many, you see, want to have a finger in the pye, it's the
most difficult business you can imagine. You thought
you had a tough time of it, Jack, to take care of them
are small matters down to Madawaska last winter, with
your brave company of Downingville boys. But that's
no more than a drop in the bucket to being President
one month. I tell you, Jack, there is n't a monarch in
Europe who has so hard a time of it as I have. There
are so many cooks, the broth most always comes out
rather bad. If I have to write a message, one must put
in a sentence, and another a sentence, and another, till
it gets so at last I can't hardly tell whether I've written
any of it myself or not. And sometimes I have a good
mind to throw it all in the fire and say nothing at all.
But then again that wont do, for since I've undertaken
to be President, I must go through with it. And then
there was such a pulling and hauling for offices along in
the outset, it seemed as though they would pull me to
pieces. If I gave an office to one, Mr. Ingham or Mr.
Branch would be mad, and if I gave it to another Mr.
Van Buren would n't like it, and if I gave it to another,
perhaps Mrs. Eaton would make a plaguy fuss about it.
One wanted me to do this thing and another wanted me
to do that: and it was nothing but quarrel the whole
time. At last Mr. Van Buren said he'd resign, if I
would turn the rest out. So I made a scattering
among 'em and turned 'em all out in a heap. All but
Mr. Lewis and Mr. Kendall who staid to give me
their friendly advice and help me through my trying
difficulties.

And then again to be so slandered as I have been in
the papers, it is enough to wear the patience of Job out.
And if I got a little angry at the contrariness of the
Senate, they must needs call me a `roaring lion,' the
rascals. But that Senate did use me shamefully. The
very best nominations I made, they always rejected. To
think the stupid heads should reject Mr. Van Buren, decidedly
the greatest man in the country, it was too provoking.
Yes, Mr. Van Buren is the first man in this
country, and jest between you and me, Jack, he's the
only man in it that is well qualified to succeed me in the
government of this great nation of twenty-four republics.
And he must come in too, or the country wont be worth
a stiver, much longer. There's Clay, he would make
pretty work of it, if he should come in. Why, Jack,
he would gamble one half of the country away in two
years, and spend the other half in digging Canals and
building rail-roads; and when the funds in the Treasury
failed he would go to the United States Bank and
get more.

Calhoun would break the Union to pieces in three
months if he was President. He's trying all he can
now to tear off something of a slice from it at the south.
And as for Wirt, he's a fiddling away with the Anti-masons.
Letting Anti-masonry alone, he's a pretty good
sort of a man; but he has n't energy enough to steer our
crazy ship of state in these stormy times. I would sooner
trust it in the hands of Mrs. Eaton than him. There's
no one fit for it but Mr. Van Buren; and if it was not
for getting him in I would n't have consented to stand
for another term.

But, my dear friend, by stopping to tell you some of
the conversation I and the President had along the road,
I have almost forgot to tell you any thing about myself
and the thousand things I met with on my journey. But

I can't write any more to-day. I expect to start from
here on Monday on my way to Portland. You may hear
from me a few times before I get there, as I shall stop
along by the way some to see how matters go in Pennsylvany
and New York.

If you have a chance, send my love to all my folks
up at Downingville, and tell 'em old Jack is alive and
hearty.

LETTER XXXIX.

My dear old Friend.—Here I am back again to
Washington, though I've been as far as Baltimore on
my way down east to see you and the rest of my uncles
and aunts and couzins. And what do you think I
posted back to Washington for? I can tell you. When
I got to Baltimore I met an express coming on full
chisel from Philadelphy, to carry the news to Washington
that Pennsylvania had gone all hollow for old
Hickory's second election. The poor fellow that was
carrying it had got out of breath, that he declared he
couldn't go no further if the Presidient never heard
of it.

Well, thinks I, it will be worth a journey back to
Washington, jest to see the old gineral's eyes strike
fire when he hears of it. So says I, I'll take it and
carry it on for you if you are a mind to. He kind of
hesitated at first, and was afraid I might play a trick
upon him; but when he found out my name was Jack
Downing, he jumped off his horse quick enough; I'll
trust it with you, says he, as quick as I would with the
President himself. So I jumped on and whipped up.
And sure enough, as true as you are alive, I did get to
Washington before dark, though I had but three hours
to go it in, and its nearly forty miles. It was the
smartest horse that ever I backed, except one that belongs
to the President. But, poor fellow, he's so done
tu I guess he'll never run another express. Jest before
I got to Washington, say about two miles from the city,
the poor fellow keeled up and could n't go another
step. I had lost my hat on the way and was too much
in a hurry to pick it up, and he had thrown me off
twice and torn my coat pretty bad, so that I did n't
look very trig to go through the city or to the President's
house. But notwithstanding, I knew the President
would overlook it, considerin the business I was
coming upon, so I catched the express and pulled foot,
right through Pennsylvania Avenue, without any hat,
and torn coat sleeves and coat tail flying. The stage
offered to carry me, but I thought I wouldn't stop
for it.

Almost the first person I met was Mr. Duff Green.
Says he, Capt. Downing, what's the matter? I held
up the express and shook it at him, but never answered
him a word, and pulled on. He turned and walked as
fast as he could without running, and followed me.
Pretty soon I met Mr. Gales of the Intelligence., and
says he, for mercy sake, Captain Downing, what's the
matter? Have you been chased by a wolf, or Governor
Houston, or have you got news from Pennsylvania?—
I did n't turn to the right nor left, but shook the express
at him and run like wild-fire.

When I came up to the President's house, the old
gentleman was standing in the door. He stepped quicker
than I ever see him before, and met me at the gate.
Says he, my dear friend Downing, what's the matter?
Has the United States Bank been trying to bribe you,
and you are trying to run away from 'em? They may
buy over Webster and Clay and such trash, but I knew
if they touched you they would get the wrong pig by
the ear. As he said this, Duff Green hove in sight,
puffing and blowing, full speed.

Oh, said the President, Duff Green wants to have a
lick at you, does he? Well dont retreat another step,
Mr. Downing, I'll stand between you and harm. Upon
that he called his boy and told him to bring his pistols
in a moment. By this time I made out to get breath
enough jest to say Pennsylvany, and to shake the express
at him. The old man's colour changed in a minute.
Says he, come in, Mr. Downing, come in, set
down, dont say a word to Duff. So in we went, and
shut the door. Now, says the President, looking as
though he would rout a regiment in five minutes, now
speak and let me know whether I am a dead man or
alive.

Gineral, says I, its all over with — I wont hear a
word of it, says he, stomping his foot. His eyes flashed
fire, so that I trembled and almost fell backwards.
But I see he did n't understand me. Dear gineral,
says I, its all over with Clay and the Bank—at that he
clapt his hands and jumped up like a boy. I never see
the President jump before, as much as I've been acquainted
with him. In less than a minute he looked
entirely like another man. His eyes were as calm and
as bright as the moon jest coming out from behind a
black thunder cloud.

He clenched my hand and gave it such a shake I
did n't know but he would pull it off. Says he, Jack,
I knew Pennsylvany never would desert me, and if she
has gone for me I'm safe. And now if I dont make
them are Bank chaps hug it, my name is n't Andrew

Jackson. And after all, Jack, I aint so glad on my
own account, that I'm re-elected, as I am for the country
and Mr. Van Buren's account; and we shall get
him in now to be President after me. And you know,
Jack, that he's the only man after me, that's fit to govern
this country.

The President has made me promise to stop and
spend the night with him, and help him rejoice over the
victory. But I have n't time to write any more before
the mail goes.

LETTER XL.

My dear old Friend.—I believe the last time I
wrote to you, was when I come back with the express
from Baltimore, and Duff Green chased me so through
the street to find out what I was bringing, and the President
thought he was running to get a lick at me, and
called for his pistols to stand between me and harm,
you know. Well, I intended to turn right about again
after I had made the old gentleman's heart jump up by
telling him that he had got Pennsylvany and would be
elected as sure as eggs was bacon, and make the best of
my way towards Portland. For you cant think how I
long to see you and uncle Joshua and ant Kesiah and
cousin Ephraim and cousin Nabby and all the rest of

the dear souls up in Downingville. It seems as though
it was six years instead of six months since I left that
part of the country, and when I shall be able to get back
again is more than I can tell now; for I find when a
man once gets into public life he never can say his
time is his own; he must always stand ready to go
where his country calls. The long and the short of it
is, the President has got so many other fish for me to
fry, it's no use for me to think of going home yet.
That evening after I got back with the express, the president
said we must honor this victory in Pennsylvany
with a glass of wine. I am sure, said he, Capt. Downing,
you will have no objection to take a glass with me
on this joyful occasion. I told him, as for that matter,
I supposed I could take a glass of wine upon a pinch,
even if the occasion was not half so joyful. So he had
two or three bottles full brought in, and filled up the
glasses. And now, says the president, I will give you
a toast. The state of Pennsylvania, the most patriotic
state in the Union; for though I go against all her
great public interests, still she votes for me by an overwhelming
majority.

He then called for my toast. And what could I
give but my near native Downingville; the most ginuin
unwavering democratic republican town in New
England.

Good, said the president; and that Downingville has
never been rewarded yet. You shall have a post office
established there, and name to me which of your friends
you would like should be post-master, and he shall be
appointed.

The president then gave his second toast; Martin
Van Buren, the next president of the United States,
and the only man in the country that is fit for it. Capt.
Downing, your toast if you please. So I gave Uncle
Joshua Downing, the most thorough going republican
in Downingville.

Good, said the president, I understand you, Captain
Downing; your uncle Joshua shall have the post office.

His third toast was the editor of the Washington
Globe; and mine was the editor of the Portland Courier.
But I told him he mustn't ask me for any more toasts,
for that was as fur as I could go.

The president toasted several more of his friends,
sich as Major Eaton, and Mr. Kendall, and Mr. Lewis,
and the Hon. Isaac Hill, and so on, till it got to be
pretty late in the evening, and I told the president I
would be glad it he would excuse me, for I wanted to
start early in the morning on my way down East, and
I thought I should feel better if I could get a little nap
first. And besides I had got to go and get the old lady
that used to do my washing and mending, to patch up
my coat that got such a terrible shipwreck by being
thrown off the horse with the express.

Start down East to-morrow morning, Capt. Downing,
said he, you must not think of it. I have an important
and delicate job on hand which I cant get along with
very well without your assistance. There's that miserable
ambitious Calhoun has been trying this dozen
years to be president of the United States; but he can't
make out, so now he is determined to lop off a few of
the southern states and make himself president of them.
But if he don't find himself mistaken my name is n't
Andrew Jackson. As he said this he started up on his
feet, and begun to march across the floor with a very
soldier-like step, and his eyes fairly flashedfire. No,
said he, Capt. Downing, he must wait till somebody
else is president besides me before he can do that. Let
him move an inch by force in this business, if he dares.
I 'll chase him as far as beyond Tennessee as it is from
here there, but what I'll catch him and string him up by
the neck to the first tree I can find.

I must send some troops out there to South Caroli a
to reconnoitre and keep matters strait, and your gallant
defence of Madawaska last winter points you out as the
most suitable man to take the command. I shall give
you a major's commission to-morrow, and wish you to
enlist two or three companies of brave volunteers and

hold yourself in readiness to obey orders. In case we
should have to come to a real brush, said the president,
shall take command myself, and make you lieutenant-general.
But I wish you to bear in mind, let what will
come, never to shoot that Calhoun. Shooting is too
good for him. He must dance upon nothing, with a
rope round his neck.

As for your coat, Capt. Downing, dont trouble the
old lady with it. It looks as though it had seen service
enough already. I'll give you one of mine to wear till
you have time to get a suit of regimentals made. I told
him I felt a little uneasy about taking the command
among strangers, unless I could have my Downingville
company with me. Send for them, said the president,
by all means, send for them. There are no troops
equal to them except it is some of the boys from Tennessee.
So I shall forthwith send orders to Sargeant
Joel to march 'em on here. As I am to have my commission
to-morrow, I shall venture to subscribe myself
your friend,

LETTER XLI.

My dear Neffu,— We had almost gin you up for
dead, you had been gone so long, before we got your
letter in the Portland Courier telling how you had been
away to Tennessee along with President Jackson.

Your poor mother had pined away so that she had
nothing left, seemingly, but skin and bones, and your
cousin Nabby had cried her eyes half out of her head,
poor girl. But when the Portland Courier came bringing
that are letter of yourn, Downingville was in a
complete uproar all day. Sargent Joel had come home
from Madawaska and dismissed your company, and gone
to work in the woods chopping wood. But as soon as
he heard your letter had come, he dropped his ax, and I
dont think he's touched it since; and he put on his
regimentals and scoured up the old piece of a scythe
that he used to have for a sword, and stuck it into his
waistband, and strutted about as big as a major gineral
Your mother begun to pick up her crums immediately,
and has been growing fat ever since. And Nabby run
about from house to house like a crazy bed-bug, telling
'em Jack was alive and was agoing to build up Downingville
and make something of it yet.

We got your last letter and the President's Proclamation
both together, though I see your letter was written
two days first. That proclamation is a capital
thing. You know I've made politics my study for forty
years, and I must say it's the most ginuin republican
thing I ever come acrost. But what was most provoking
about it, was, all the old federalists in town
undertook to praise it tu. Squire Dudley, you know,
was always a federalist, and an Adams man tu. I met
him the next day after the Proclamation come, and he
was chock full of the matter. Says he, Mr. Downing,
that Proclamation is jest the thing. It's the true constitutional
doctrine. We all support the President in
this business through thick and thin.

My dander began to rise, and I could n't hold in any
longer. Says I squire Dudley shut up your clack, or
I'll knock your clam-shells together pretty quick' It's
got to be a pretty time of day indeed, if, after we've
worked so hard, to get President Jackson in, you Federalists
are going to undertake to praise his proclamation,
as much as though he was your own President.—

You've a right to grumble and find fault with it as much
as you like; but dont let me hear you say another word
in favor of it, if you do I'll make daylight shine through
you. The old man hauled in his horns and marched
off looking shamed enough.

The next day we concluded to have a public meeting
to pass resolutions in favor of the Proclamation. I was
appointed chairman. The federal party all come flocking
round and wanted to come in and help praise the
President. We told 'em no; it was our President, and
our Proclamation, and they must keep their distance.
So we shut the doors and went on with our resolutions.
By and by the Federal party began to hurra for Jackson
outside the house. At that I told Sargent Joel and
your cousin Ephraim and two or three more of the
young democrats to go out and clear the coast of them
are fellers. And they went out and Sargent Joel drew
his piece of a scythe and went at 'em and the Federalists
run like a flock of sheep with a dog after 'em. So
we finished our resolutions without getting a drop of federalism
mixed with 'em, and sent 'em on to the President
by Sargent Joel. He got his company together
last week, and they filled their knapsacks with bread
and sasages and doe-nuts, and started for Washington
according to your orders.

I was glad to see that hint in your letter about a post
office here. We need one very much. And if the
President should think I ought to have it, being I've
always been such a good friend to him, why you know,
Jack, I'm always ready to serve my country.

LETTER XLII.

Dear Cousin,—Sargent Joel got here day before
yesterday, with my hearty old company of Downingville
boys, that went down to Madawaska with me last
winter. They cut rather a curious figure marching
through Pennsylvany Avenu. One half of 'em had
worn their shoes out so that their toes stuck out like the
heads of so many young turkles, and t'other half had
holes through their knees or elbows, and Sargent Joel
marched ahead of 'em swinging his piece of an old
scythe for a sword, and inquiring of every one he met
for Major Jack Downing. They all told him to keep
along till he got to the President's house, which was
the biggest house in the city except the Congress house,
and there he would find me. I and the President were
setting by the window in the great east room, looking
out, and talking about Mr. Calhoun and so on, when
the President began to stare as though he saw a catamount.

He started upon his feet, and says he, Major Downing,
if my eyes dont deceive me there's Nullification
now coming up Pennsylvany Avenu. He begun to call
for his pistols, and to tell his men to fasten up the doors
when I looked out, and I knew Joel's strut in a minit.
Says I, dear Gineral that's no nullification, but it's
what'll put a stopper on nullification pretty quick if it
once gets to South Carolina. It's my Downingville

Company commanded by Sargent Joel. At that the
President looked more pleased than I've seen him before
since he got the news of the vote of Pennsylvany.
He ordered 'em into the east room, and gave 'em as
much as they could eat and drink of the best the house
affords. He has found quarters for 'em in the neighbourhood,
and says we must be ready to march for South
Carolina whenever he says the word.

But I'll tell you what 'tis, cousin Ephraim, I begin
to grow a little kind of wamble cropt about going to
South Carolina, arter all. If they've got many such
fellers there as one Gineral Blair there is here, from
that State, I'd sooner take my chance in the woods
forty miles above Downingville, fighting bears and
wolves and catamounts, than come within gun-shot of
one of these Carolina giants. He's a whaler of a feller,
as big as any two men in Downingville. They say he
weighs over three hundred pounds. About a week
ago he met Gineral Duff Green in the street and he
fell afoul of him with a great club and knocked him
down, and broke his arm and beat him almost to death
jest because he got mad at something Mr. Green said
in his paper. And what makes me feel more skittish
about getting into the hands of such chaps, is, because
he says he could n't help it. He says all his friends
persuaded him not to meddle with Gineral Green, and
he tried as hard as he could to let him alone, but he
`found himself unequal to the effort.' So Green like to
got killed.

The folks here sot out to carry him to court bout it,
but he said he would n't go, and so he armed himself
with four pistols and two dirks and a great knife, and
said he 'd shoot the first man that touched him. Last
night he went to the Theatre with all his arms and coutrements
about him. And after he sot there a spell,
and all the folks were looking to see the play go on, he
draws out one of his pistols and fires it at the players.
Then there was a dreadful uproar. They told him he
must clear out about the quickest. But he said if

they'd let him alone he 'd behave like a gentleman. So
they went on with the play again.

By and by he draws out another pistol and points it
towards the players. At that there was a whole parcel
of 'em seized him and dragged him out into another
room, big as he was. But pretty soon he got upon his
feet, and begun to rave like a mad ox. He pulled off
his coat and threw it down, and declared he 'd fight the
whole boodle of 'em. The constables were all so frightened
they cut and run, and nobody dared to go a near
him, till he got cooled down a little, when some of his
friends coaxed him away to a tavern. Now as for
going to South Carolina to fight such chaps as these,
I'd sooner let nullification go to grass and eat mullen.

Sargent Joel told me when he left Downingville you
had jest got loaded up with apples and one thing another
to go down to Augusta to peddle 'em out; and that
you was a going to stay there while the Legislater folks
were there. So I thought it would be a good plan for
you and I to write to one another about once a week or
so, how matters get along.

Give my love to the folks up in Downingville whenever
you see 'em.

LETTER XLIII.

My kind and dear old Friend,—The President's
Message to Congress makes cracking work here. Mr.
Calhoun shows his teeth like a lion. Mr. McDuffie is
cool as a cowcumber, though they say he's got a terrible
tempest inside of him, that he 'll let out before long.
For my part I think the President's Message is about
right. I was setting with the President in the east
room last night, chatting about one thing and another,
and the President says he, Major Downing, have you
read my message that I sent to Congress to day. I
told him I had n't. Well, says he, I should like to
have you read it and give me your opinion upon it. So
he handed it to me and I sot down and read it through.

And when I got through, now says I Gineral I'll tell
you jest what I think of this ere business. When I was
a youngster some of us Downingville boys used to go
down to Sebago Pond every spring and hire out a month
or two rafting logs across the Pond. And one time I
and cousin Ephraim, and Joel, and Bill Johnson, and
two or three more of us had each a whapping great log
to carry across the Pond. It was rather a windy day
and the waves kept the logs bobbing up and down pretty
considerable bad, so we agreed to bring 'em along side
and side and lash 'em together and drive some thole-pins
in the outermost logs and row 'em over together. We
went along two or three miles pretty well. But by and
by Bill Johnson begun to complain. He was always an

uneasy harumscarum sort of a chap. Always thought
every body else had an easier time than he had, and
when he was a boy, always used to be complaining that
the other boys had more butter on their bread than he
had. Well, Bill was rowing on the leward side, and he
begun to fret and said his side went the hardest, and
he would n't give us any peace till one of us changed
sides with him.

Well Bill had n't rowed but a little ways on the windward
side before he began to fret again, and declared
that side went haŕder than 'tother, and he would n't
touch to row on that side any longer. We told him he
had his choice, and he should n't keep changing so. But
he only fretted the more and begun to get mad. At last
he declared if we didn't change with him in five minutes,
he'd cut the lashings and take his log and paddle off
alone. And before we had hardly time to turn round,
he declared the five minutes were out, and up hatchet
and cut the lashiugs, and away went Bill on his own log,
bobbing and rolling about, and dancing like a monkey to
try to keep on the upper side. The rest of us scrabbled
to as well as we could, and fastened our logs together
again, though we had a tuff match for it, the wind blew
so hard. Bill had n't gone but a little ways before his
log begun to role more and more, and by and by in he
went splash, head and ears. He came up puffing and
blowing, and got hold of the log and tried to climb up on
to it, but the more he tried the more the log rolled; and
finding it would be gone goose with him pretty soon if
he staid there, he begun to sing out like a loon for us to
come and take him. We asked him which side he would
row if we would take his log into the raft again. O,
says Bill, I'll row on either side or both sides if you
want me to, if you'll only come and help me before I
sink.

But, said the President, I hope you did n't help the
foolish rascal out till he got a pretty good soaking. He
got soaked enough before we got to him, says I, for he
was jest ready to sink for the last time, and our logs

come pesky near getting scattered, and if they had, we
should all gone to the bottom together. And now Gineral,
this is jest what I think: if you let South Carolina
cut the lashings you'll see such a log-rolling in this
country as you never see yet. The old Gineral started
up and marched across the floor like a boy. Says he,
Major Downing, she sha'nt cut the lashings while my
name is Andrew Jackson. Tell Sargent Joel to have
his company sleep on their arms every night. I told
him they should be ready at a moment's warning.

I wish you would jest give cousin Ephraim up to Augusta
a jog to know why he dont write to me and let me
know how the Legislater is getting along.

LETTER XLIV.

Dear cousin Jack,—I got your letter some time ago,
but I had n't time to answer it afore now, because I had
to go back up to Downingville to get another load of
apples. These Legislater folks cronch apples down by
the wholesale between speeches, and sometimes in the

middle of speeches tu. That arternoon that Mr. Clark
spoke all day, I guess I sold nigh upon a half a bushel
for cash, and trusted out most three pecks besides. The
folks up to Downingville are all pretty well, only your
poor old mother; she's got the reumatics pretty bad
this winter. She says she wishes with all her heart
Jack would come home, and not think of going to South
Carolina. Ever since she heard about Gineral Blair
she cant hardly sleep nights, she's so afraid you 'll get
shot. I tell her there's no danger of you as long as
you have President Jackson one side of you and Sergent
Joel 'tother.

The Legislater is jogging along here pretty well; I
guess they'll get through about the first of March, if
they dont have too many boundary questions come
along. We made some Major Ginerals here 'tother
day, and I tried to get you elected. Not because I
thought you cared much about the office now, but jest
for the honor of Downingville. I tried most all the
members, and thought to be sure you would come in as
slick as greese. For about forty of 'em told me they
thought it belonged to you. They said it was against
their principles to pledge their votes to any body; but
they whispered in my ear that they would do what they
could, and they had n't scarcely a doubt but what you'd
be elected. Sixty eight of 'em told me you was the
best man for it, and would undoubtedly be chosen as a
matter of course. And twentyfive of 'em promised me
right up and down by the crook of the elbow, that they
would vote for you.

Well Jack, after all this, you did n't get but two
vote by that time I begun to think it was n't so strange
that it took two years heard fishing before you could
get an office.

This is the most democratic Legislater that they have
ever had in this state yet. They are most all real ginuin
democrats, and they give Mr Holmes and Mr
Sprague a terrible basting for being federlists, and they
have turned Mr Holmes out and put Mr. Shepley in.

The Legislater is talking of moving the seat of government
back to Portland again. They say it will be
better all round. They wont have to go so fur through
the snow-drifts to their boarding houses, and wont have
to pay much more than half so much for their board.—
And here they have to pay four pence apiece every
time they are shaved; but in Portland they can
get shaved by the half dozen for three cents apiece. I
hope they will go, for I can get more for my apples in
Portland than I can here.

P. S. Bill Johnson was married last week, and he
quarrelled with his wife the very next day. So you see
he is the same old sixpence he used to be. He says he
'll send a petition to the Legislater to be divorced, and
he declares if they dont't grant it, he 'll cut the lashings
as he did once on the raft on Sebago Pond, sink or
swim.

N. B. Uncle Joshua wished me to ask you to ask the
President about that post office again, as his commission
has n't come yet.

LETTER XLV.

My Dear Friend.—This is nullification day, and
it's most night, and I aint dead yet, and hant been
shot at once to-day. I got up this morning as soon as
it was light, and went out and looked away towards
South Carolina, and listened as hard as I could to see
if I could hear the guns crackin and the cannons roarin.
But it was all still as a mouse. And I've been up top
the Congress house five or six times to-day, and listened
and listened, but all the firing I could hear was inside
the Congress house itself, where the members
were shooting their speeches at each other. I had my
company all ready this morning with their dinners in
their napsacks, to start as quick as we heard a single
gun. We shant go till we hear something from these
nullifiers, for the president says he aint agoing to begin
the scrape, but if the nullifiers begin it, then the hardest
must fend off.

Yesterday a friend handed me a couple of papers
printed at Hallowell away down pretty near to Augusta
in the state of Maine, called the American Advocate,
and I found something in 'em that made me as
mad as March hair. The first one mentioned that Capt.
Dow was chosen mayor of Portland, and then said, he
is the reputed author of the Jack Downing letters that
have been published in the Portland Courier. The
other paper that was printed two or three days afterwards,

said Mr. Dow the mayor of Portland is not the
author of Jack Downing's letters; they are written by
Mr. Seba Smith, the Editor of the Portland Courier.
Now, Mr. Editor, my good old friend, is n't this too
bad? I have n't come acrost any thing that made me
feel so wamblecropt this good while. Jest as if Major
Jack Downing could n't write his own letters.

I've been to school, put it altogether, off and on,
more than six months, and though I say it myself, I
always used to be called the best scholar among the
boys in Downingville, and most always used to stand
at the head of my class. I'd been through Webster's
spelling-book before I was fifteen, and before I was
twenty I could cypher to the rule of three. And now
to have it said that I dont write my own letters, is too
bad. It's what I call a rascally shame. I was so boiling
over with it last night, that I could n't hold in; and
so I took the papers and went in and showed them to
the president. I always go to the president when I
have any difficulty, and when he has any he comes to
me; so we help one another along as well as we can.
When the president had read it, says he, Major Downing,
it's strange to see how this world is given to lying.
The public papers are beginning to slander you jest as
they always do me. I have n't written scarcely a public
document since I've been president, but what it's
been laid off to Mr. Van Buren, or Mr. McLane, or
Mr. Livingston, or Mr. Taney, or somebody or other.
And how to help this slanderous business I dont know.
But it's too provoking, Major, that's certain. Sometimes
I've a good mind to make Congress pass a law
that every editor who says I dont write my proclamations
and messages, or that you dont write your letters,
shall forfeit his press and types; and if that
dont stop him, that he shall be strung up by the
neck without judge or jury.

And now, Mr. Editor, I wish you would jest give
that Hallowell man a hint to mind his own p's and
q's in future, and look out for his neck. And as you

know very well that I do write my own letters, I
would thank you jest to tell the public so.

LETTER XLVI.

Dear Cousin Jack,—The Legislater folks have all
cleared out to-day one arter t'other jest like a flock of
sheep; and some of 'em have left me in the lurch tu, for
they cleared out without paying me for my apples.
Some of 'em went off in my debt as much as twenty
cents, and some ninepence, and a shilling, and so on.
They all kept telling me when they got paid off, they'd
settle up with me. And so I waited with patience till
they adjourned, and thought I was as sure of my money
as though it was in the Bank.

But, my patience, when they did adjourn, such a hubbub
I guess you never see. They were flying about
from one room to another, like so many pigeons shot in
the head. They run into Mr. Harris' room and clawed
the money off of his table, hand over fist. I brustled up
to some of 'em, and tried to settle. I come to one man
that owed me twelve cents, and he had a ninepence in
change, but he would n't let me have that, because he
should lose a half cent. So, while we were bothering
about it, trying to get it changed, the first I knew the
rest of 'em had got their money in their pockets and
were off like a shot, some of 'em in stages, and some in

sleighs, and some footing it. I out and followed after
'em, but 'twas no use; I could n't catch one of 'em.
And as for my money, and apples tu, I guess I shall
have to whistle for 'em now. Its pesky hard, for I owe
four and sixpence here yet for my board, and I've paid
away every cent I 've got for my apples, and dont know
but I shall have to come down with another load to clear
out my expenses. Howsomever, you know uncle Joshua
always told us never to cry for spilt milk, so I mean to
hold my head up yet.

I dont know but I shall have to give up retailing apples,
I meet with so many head-flaws about it. I was
thinking that, soon as the Legislater adjourned, I'd take
a load of apples and apple-sass, and a few sassages, and
come on to Washington, and go long with your company
to South Carolina. But they say Mr. Clay has put a
stopper on that nullification business, so that its ten
chances to one you wont have to go.

I dont care so much about the apple business after all;
for I've found out a way to get rich forty times as fast
as I can by retailing apples, or as you can by hunting
after an office. And I advise you to come right home,
as quick as you can come. Here's a business going on
here that you can get rich by, ten times as quick as you
can in any office, even if you should get to be President.
The President dont have but twenty-five thousand dollars
a year; but in this ere business that's goin on here,
a man can make twenty-five thousand dollars in a week
if he's a mind to, and not work hard neither.

I spose by this time you begin to feel rather in a
pucker to know what this business is. I 'll tell you: but
you must keep it to yourself, for if all them are
Washington folks and Congress folks should come on
here and go to dipping into it, I'm afraid they'd cut us all
out. But between you and me, its only jest buying and
selling land. Why, Jack, its forty times more profitable
than money digging, or any other business that you ever
see. I knew a man here t'other day from Bangor, that
made ten thousand dollars, and I guess he want more

than an hour about it. Most all the folks here and down
to Portland and Bangor have got their fortunes made,
and now we are beginning to take hold of it up in the
country.

They 've got a slice up in Downingville, and I missed
it by being down here selling apples, or I should had a
finger in the pie. Uncle Joshua Downing, you know
he's an old fox, and always knows where to jump; well,
he see how every body was getting rich, so he went and
bought a piece of a township up back of Downingville,
and give his note for a thousand dollars for it. And
then he sold it to uncle Jacob and took his note for two
thousand dollars; and uncle Jacob sold it to uncle
Zackary and took his note for three thousand dollars;
and uncle Zackary sold it to uncle Jim, and took his
note for four thousand dollars; and uncke Jim sold it to
cousin Sam, and took his note for five thousand dollars;
and cousin Sam sold it to Bill Johnson, and took his
note for six thousand dollars. So you see there's five
of 'em that want worth ninepence apiece before, have
now got a thousand dollars apiece clear, when their
notes are paid. And Bill Johnson's going to logging off
of it, and they say he 'll make more than any of 'em.

Come home, Jack, come home by all means, if you
want to get rich. Give up your commission, and think
no more about being President, or any thing else, but
come home and buy land before its all gone.

LETTER XLVII.

Dear Cousin Ephraim,—I got your letter this morning.
It was a shame for them are Legislater folks to
skulk off without paying you for your apples. But
they are the worst folks about standing to their word
that I know of. They 've promised me an office more
than twenty times, but some how or other, come to the
case in hand, their votes always went for somebody
else. But I dont care a fig for 'em as long as I 've got
the President on my side, for his offices are as fat again
as the Legislater offices are. The President's offices
will support a man pretty well if he does 'nt do any
thing at all. As soon as Mr. Clay's Tariff Bill passed,
the President called me into his room, and says
he, Major Downing, the nullification jig is up. There'll
be no fun for you in South Carolina now, and I guess
you may as well let Sargent Joel march the company
back to Downingville, and wait till somebody kicks up
another bobbery some where and then I' ll send for 'em,
for they are the likeliest company I 've seen since I
went with my Tennessee rangers to New Orleans.
And as for you Major Downing, you shall still hold
your commission and be under half pay, holding yourself
in readiness to march at a moment's warning and
to fight whenever called for.

So you see, Cousin Ephraim, I am pretty well to live
in the world, without any of your land speculations or

apple selling down east. I cant seem to see how 'tis
they all make money so fast in that land business down
there that you tell about. How could all our folks and
Bill Johnson and all of 'em there in Downingville make
a thousand dollars a piece, jest a trading round among
themselves, when there aint fifty dollars in money, put
it all together, in the whole town. It rather puzzles
me a little. As soon as I see 'em all get their thousand
dollars cash in hand, I guess I 'll give up my commission
and come home and buy some land tu.

But at present I think I rather have a bird in the
hand than one in the bush. Our Congress folks here
cleared out about the same time that your Legislater
folks did, and I and the President have been rather
lonesome a few days. The old gentleman says I
must n't leave him on any account; but I guess I shall
start Joel and the company off for Downingville in a
day or two. They 've got their clothes pretty much
mended up, and they look quite tidy. I should n't feel
ashamed to see'em marched through any city in the
United States.

It is n't likely I shall have any thing to do under my
commission very soon. For some say there 'll be no
more fighting in the country while Mr. Clay lives, if
it should be a thousand years. He's got a master knack
of pacifying folks and hushing up quarrels as you ever
see. He's stopt all that fuss in South Carolina, that you
know was jest ready to blow the whole country sky
high. He stept to 'em in Congress and told 'em what
sort of a Bill to pass, and they passed it without hardly
any jaw about it. And South Carolina has hauled in
her horns, and they say she'll be as calm as a clock
now. And that is n't the only quarrel Mr. Clay has
stopt. Two of the Senators, Mr. Webster and Mr.
Poindexter, got as mad as March hairs at each other.
They called each other some pesky hard names, and
looked cross enough for a week to bite a board nail off.
Well, after Mr. Clay got through with South Carolina,
he took them in hand. He jest talked to 'em about five

minutes, and they got up and went and shook hands
with each other, and looked as loving as two brothers.

Then Mr. Holmes got up and went to Mr. Clay, and
almost with tears in his eyes asked him if he would n't
be so kind as to settle a little difficulty there was between
him and his constituents, so they might elect
him to Congress again. And I helieve some of the
other Senators asked for the same favor.

So as there is likely, to be peace now all round the
house for some time to come, I'm in a kind of a quandary
what course to steer this summer. The President
talks of taking a journey down east this summer,
and he wants me to go with him, because I 'm acquainted
there, and can show him all about it. He has a
great desire to go as fur as Downingville, and get acquainted
with Uncle Joshua, who has always stuck by
him in all weathers through thick and thin. The President
thinks uncle Joshua is one of the republican pillars
of New England, and says he shall always have
the post office as long as he lives, and his children after
him.

I rather guess on the whole I shall come on that way
this summer with the President. But wherever I go,
I shall remain your loving cousin.

LETTER XLVIII.

My Dear Old Friend, — Bein I hant writ to you
for some time, I'm afraid you and our folks up in Downingville

will begin to feel a little uneasy by and by, so
I 'll jest write you a little if it aint but two lines, to let
you know how we get on here. I and the President
seem to enjoy ourselves pretty well together, though its
getting to be a little lonesome since the Congress folks
went off, and Sargent Joel cleared out with my Downingville
Company, Poor souls, I wonder if they have
got home yet; I have n't heard a word from 'em since
they left here. I wish you would send up word to Sargeant
Joel to write to me and let me know how they got
along. He can send his letter in your Currier, or get
uncle Joshua to frank it; either way it wont cost me any
thing. Now I think of it, I wish you would jest ask
cousin Nabby to ask uncle Joshua to frank me on two
or three pair of stockings, for mine have got terribly
out at the heels. He can do it jest as well as not; they
make nothing here of franking a bushel basket full of
great books to the western States. And they say some
of the members of Congress used to frank their clothes
home by mail to be washed.

I and the President are getting ready to come on that
way this summer. We shall come as far as Portland,
and I expect we shall go up to Downingville; for the
President says he must shake hands with uncle Joshua
before he comes back, that faithful old republican who
has stood by him through thick and thin ever since he
found he was going to be elected President. He will
either go up to Downingville, or send for Uncle Joshua
to meet him at Portland.

There is some trouble amongst us here a little, to
know how we shall get along among the federalists
when we come that way. They say the federalists in
Massachusetts want to keep the President all to themselves
when he comes there. But Mr. Van Buren says
that 'll never do; he must stick to the democratic party;
he may shake hands with a federalist once in a while if
the democrats dont see him, but whenever there 's any
democrats round he must n't look at a federalist. Mr.
McLane and Mr. Livingston advise him tother way.—

They tell him he'd better treat the federalists pretty
civil, and shake hands with Mr. Webster as quick as
he would with uncle Joshua Downing. And when they
give this advice Mr. Lewis and Mr. Kendle hop right
up as mad as march hairs, and tell him if he shakes
hands with a single federalist while he is gone, the democratic
party will be ruined. And then the President
turns to me and asks me what he had better do. And I
tell him I guess he better go straight ahead, and keep
a stiff upper lip, and shake hands with whoever he is a
mind to.

Mr. Van Buren staid with us awhile at the President's,
but he's moved into a house now on Pennsylvany
Avenue. He's a fine slick man I can tell you, and the
President says he's the greatest man in America. He's
got the beat'em-est tongue that I ever see. If you had
a black hat on, he could go to talking to you and in ten
minutes he could make you think it was white.

Give my love to our folks up in Downingville when
you have a chance to send it to 'em, and believe me your
old friend,

LETTER XLIX.

My dear old Friend.—We 've had a kind of a
hurly burly time here to-day. I did n't know but we

should burst the biler one spell; and some of us, as
it was, got scalding hot. You see, I and the president
and a few more gentlemen got into the steam-boat
this morning to go round into old Virginny to
help lay the foundation of a monument, so they should
n't forget who Washington's mother was.

When we got down along to Alexandria, the boat
hauled up to the side of the wharf awhile to let some
more folks get in, and while she lay there, I and the
president and a few more of 'em sot in the cabin reading
and chatting with one another. The president
had jest got through reading a letter from uncle
Joshua Downing, urging him very strongly to come
up as fur as Downingville when he comes on that way.
And says he, Major Downing, this uncle Joshua of
yours is a real true blue republican as I know of any
where. I would n't miss seeing him when I go down
east for a whole year's salary.

Says I, your honor, Downingville is the most thorough
going republican town there is any where in the eastern
country; and you ought not to come back till
you have visited it. Jest as I said that there was a
stranger came into the cabin and stept along up to the
president, and begun to pull off his glove. I thought
there was some mischief bruing, for his lips were kind
of quivery, and I did n't like the looks of his eyes
a bit. But the president thought he was trying to
get his gloves off to shake hands with him, and the
good old man is always ready to shake hands with a
friend; so he reached out his hand to him and smiled,
and told him never to stand for the gloves, and the
words want hardly out of his mouth when dab went one
of the fellow's hands slap into the president's face.

In a moment I levelled my umbrella at the villain's
head, and came pesky near fetching him to the floor.
Two more gentlemen then clenched him by the collar
and had him down as quick as ever you see a beef ox
knocked down with an ax. In a minute there was a
crowd round him as thick as a swarm of bees.

But, my stars, I wish you could have seen the president
jest at that minute. If you ever see a lion lying
down asleep and a man come along with a great club and
hit him a plot with all his might, and then see that lion
spring on his feet, and see the fire flash in his eyes, and
hear him roar and gnash his teeth, you might give some
sort of a guess what kind of a harrycane we had of it.

The old Gineral no sooner felt the fellow's paw in
his face than he sprung like a steel-trap, and catched
his cane and went at him. But there was such a crowd
of men there in an instant, that it was as much impossible
to get through 'em as it was for the British to get
through his pile of cotton wool bags at New-Orleans.
If it had n't been for that, I dont think but he would
have kicked the feller through the side of the steam-boat
in two minutes.

However, somehow or other the rascal got hussled out
of the boat on to the wharf, and fled like a dog that
had been stealing sheep. They have sent some officers
after him, but where they will overtake him nobody
knows.

The president has got cleverly cooled down again,
and we are going on to lay the foundation of the monument.

My love to all the good folks up in Downingville.

LETTER L.

Dear Uncle Joshua,—We are coming on full
chisel. I've been trying, ever since we started, to

get a chance to write a little to you; but when we've
been on the road I couldn't catch my breath hardly long
enough to write my name, we kept flying so fast; and
when we made any stop, there was such a jam round us
there wasn't elbow room enough for a miskeeter to turn
round without knocking his wings off.

I'm most afraid now we shall get to Downingville before
this letter does, so that we shall be likely to catch
you all in the suds before you think of it. But I understand
there is a fast mail goes on that way, and I
mean to send it by that, so I'm in hopes you'll get it
time enough to have the children's faces washed and
their heads combed, and the gals get on their clean
gowns. And if Sargent Joel could have time enough
to call out my old Downingville Company and get their
uniform brushed up a little, and come down the road as
fur as your new barn to meet us, there's nothing that
would please the President better. As for victuals,
most any thing wont come amiss; we are as hungry as
bears after travelling a hundred miles a day. A little
fried pork and eggs, or a pot of baked beans and an Indian
pudding would suit us much better than the soft
stuff they give us here in these great cities.

The President wouldn't miss of seeing you for any
thing in the world, and he will go to Downingville if he
has legs and arms enough left when he goes to Portland
to carry him there. But for fear any thing should happen
that he shouldn't be able to come, you had better
meet us in Portland, say about the 22d, and then you
can go up to Downingville with us, you know.

This travelling with the President is capital fun after
all, if it wasn't so plaguy tiresome. We come into
Baltimore on a Rail Road, and we flew over the ground
like a harrycane. There isn't a horse in this country
that could keep up with us, if he should go upon the
clean clip. When we got to Baltimore, the streets
were filled with folks as thick as the spruce trees down
in your swamp. There we found Black Hawk, a little,
old, dried up Indian king. And I thought the folks

looked at him and the prophet about as much as they
did me and the President. I gave the President a wink
that this Indian fellow was taking the shine off of us a
little, so we concluded we wouldn't have him in our
company any more, and shall git on without him.

I cant stop to tell you in this letter how we got along
to Philadelphy, though we had a pretty easy time some
of the way in the steam-boats. And I cant stop to tell
you of half of the fine things I have seen here. They
took us up into a great hall this morning as big as a
meeting-house, and then the folks begun to pour in by
thousands to shake hands with the President; federalists
and all, it made no difference. There was such a
stream of 'em coming in that the hall was full in a few
minutes, and it was so jammed up round the door that
they couldn't get out again if they were to die. So they
had to knock out some of the windows and go out tother
way.

The President shook hands with all his might an hour
or two, till he got so tired he couldn't hardly stand it. I
took hold and shook for him once in awhile to help him
along, but at last he got so tired he had to lay down on a
soft bench covered with cloth and shake as well as he
could, and when he couldn't shake he'd nod to 'em as
they come along. And at last he got so beat out, he
couldn't only wrinkle his forhead and wink. Then I
kind of stood behind him and reached my arm round
under his, and shook for him for about a half an hour as
tight as I could spring. Then we concluded it was best
to adjourn for to-day.

And I've made out to get away up into the garret in
the tavern long enough to write this letter. We shall
be off to-morrow or next day for York, and if I can
possibly get breathing time enough there, I shall write to
you again.

Give my love to all the folks in Downingville, and believe
me your loving neffu,

LETTER LI.

Dear Uncle Joshua,—Here we are amongst an
ocean of folks, and cutting up capers as high as a cat's
back. I spose you will see by the papers how we all
like to got drowned yesterday going acros a little bridge
between the castle and the garden.

It was a pesky narrow squeak for me and the President.
He was riding over on a great fine hoss, and I
was walking along by the side of him and trying to
clear the way a little, for they crowded upon us so, there
was no getting along, and hardly a chance to breathe.
When we got under the arch we stopped a little bit for
the crowd to clear away, when all at once I thought I
heard something crack. Says I, Gineral you better go
ahead, I'm afraid there's mischief bruing here. At that
he give his hoss a lick and pushed through the crowd,
but we had n't got more than a rod, before crash went
the bridge behind us, all down in a heap, and two tollhouses
on top of it and as many as a hundred folks
splashed into the water, all mixed up together one top
of 'tother. The President looked over his shoulder, and
seeing I was safe behind him, called out for Mr. Van
Buren, and asked me to run and see if he was hurt. I
told him he had forgot himself, for Mr. Van Buren was
n't in the company; but Mr. Woodbury and Mr. Cass
were in for it, for I could see them floundering about in
the water now. Run, Major, said the President run and
give them a lift. Take Mr. Woodbury first, you know I
can't spare him at any rate.

So there was a parcel of us took hold and went to
hauling of 'em out of the water like so many drowned
rats. But we got 'em all out alive, except a few young
things they called dandies; they looked so after they
got wet all over that we could n't make out whether they
were alive or dead. So we laid 'em up to dry and left
'em; and I went on to help the President review the
troops on the battery, as they call it; and a grand place
it is tu. I 've seen more fine shows here, it seems to me,
than ever I see before in my life. Such a sight of folks,
and fine ladies, and fine houses, and vessels, and steam-boats,
and flags a flying, and cannons firing, and fire
works a whisking about, I never see the beat of it. I
did n't think there was so much fun in this world before,
for all I've been about so much at Madawaska and among
the nullifiers and all round.

But I cant tell you much about it till we get there, for
I cant find any time to write. I've only cheated a few
minutes this evening while the President is gone into
Mr. Niblo's garden. One of the master sights that I've
seen yet was that baloon that went up this afternoon,
carrying a man with it. Poor fellow, I dont much think
he 'll ever get back again, for he looked to me the last I
see of him as though he would land in England, or the
moon, or some other country.

All these sights keep us back a little longer than we
expected. I dont think now we shall be in Portland
before the 28th or 29th of this month. So I thought I'd
jest write you a line that you might be down there about
that time.

LETTER LII.

My Dear Old Friend,—I 'm keeping house with
the President to-day, and bein he's getting considerable
better, I thought I'd catch a chance when he was taking
a knap, and write a little to let you know how we get
along. This ere sickness[1] of the President has been a
bad pull-back to us. He hasn't been able to go out
since Sunday afternoon, and I've been watchin with him
this two nights, and if I wasn't as tough as a halter, I
should be half dead by this time.

And if the President want tougher than a catamount,
he'd kick the bucket before he'd been round to see one
half the notions there is in Boston. Poor man, he has
a hard time of it; you've no idea how much he has to
go through. Its worse than being dragged through forty
knot holes.

To be bamboozled about from four o'clock in the
morning till midnight, rain or shine, jammed into one
great house to eat a breakfast, and into another great
house to eat a dinner, and into another to eat supper,
and into two or three others between meals, to eat cooliations,
and to have to go out and review three or four
rigiments of troops, and then to be jammed into Funnel
Hall two hours, and shake hands with three or four
thousand folks, and then to go into the State House and
stand there two or thee hours and see all Boston streaming
through it like a river through a sawmill, and then

to ride about the city awhile in a fine painted covered
waggon with four or five horses to draw it, and then ride
awhile in one without any cover to it, finney-fined off to
the top notch, and then get on to the horses and ride
awhile a horseback, and then run into a great picture
room and see more fine pictures than you could shake a
stick at in a week, and then go into some grand gentleman's
house, and shake hands a half an hour with a
flock of ladies, and then after supper go and have a little
still kind of a hubbub all alone with three or four
hundred particular friends, and talk an hour or two, and
take another cooliation, and then go home, and about
midnight get ready to go to bed, and up again at four
o'clock the next morning and at it.—If this aint enough
to tucker a feller out I dont know what is. The President
wouldn't have stood it till this time if he hadn't
sent me and Mr. Van Buren and the rest of us to some
of the parties, while he staid at home to rest.

The President's got so much better I think we shall
be able to start for Salem to-morrow, for we must go
through with it now we've begun, as hard work as 'tis.
I think we shall get to Portland about the 4th of July;
so if you get your guns and things all ready you can
kill two birds with one stone. I hope you'll be pretty
careful there how you point your guns. They pointed
'em so careless at New York that one of the wads come
within six inches of making daylight shine through the
President.

Now I think ont, there is the most rascally set of fellers
skulking about somewhere in this part of the country
that ever I heard of, and I wish you would blow 'em
up. They are worse than the pick-pockets. I mean
them are fellers that's got to writing letters and putting
my name to 'em, and sending of 'em to the printers.
And I heard there was one sassy feller last Saturday
down to Newburyport that got on to a horse and rid
about town calling himself Major Jack Downing, and
all the soldiers and the folks marched up and and shook
hands with him, and thought it was me.—Now, my

dear old friend, isn't this too bad? What would you do
if you was in my case? I say again they are worse
than the pick-pockets. Isn't it Mr. Shakespear that
says something about `he that steals my munny-pus
steals trash, but he that steals my name ought to have
his head broke?' I wish you would find that story and
print it.

There, the President's jest waked up, so I must subscribe
myself, in haste.

LETTER LIII.

My Dear old Friend,—The jig is all up about
our going to Portland and Downingville. I've battled
the watch with the President this two days
about it, and told him he must go there if he had the
breath of life in him; and he kept telling me he certainly
would if hoses could carry him there.

But the President is n't very well, and that aint the
worst of it; there 's been a little difficulty bruin among
us, and the President's got so riled about it, that he's
finally concluded to start on his way back to-morrow.
I cant help it; but I feel bad enough about it. If I
wasn't military man I could cry a barrel of tears.

I dont know how they will stan it in Downingville
when they come to get the news. I'm afraid there
will be a master uproar there, for you know they are all
full-blooded democrats.

But the stage is jest agoing to start, and I've only
time to write you this line, in haste from your friend

LETTER LIV.

NOMINATION FOR THE PRESIDENCY.

From the National Intelligencer.

We do not know whether it be necessary, in copying
the subjoined effusion, to enter into a protest against
misinterpretation of our motives. We should be sorry
to be understood, whilst humouring a jest, as meaning
to burlesque so serious an action as the choice of President
of the United States. We copy the following for
the sake of its moral, as well as its wit, and we do not
like the moral the less for being taught with a smiling
countenance.

From the Mauch Chunk Courier.

Our next President

Many of the papers in the United States have already
manifested a disposition to agitate the subject of the
next Presidency, and several distinguished individuals
have been informally named for that office, among
whom are Mr. Van Buren, Mr. M`Lean, Mr. Cass,
Mr. Clay and Mr. Webster. As we are opposed to
a premature discussion of this ticklish question, we
have not hitherto committed ourself in favour of either
of these individuals. Indeed, we have considered it
very imprudent in these times, for any one who wishes
to be an orthodox politician, to “come out” for any
body until he can ascertain who will be most likely to
succeed. Accordingly we have stood upon our “reserved
rights” of neutrality, to watch the signs of the
times, and see who would probably be the most popular
candidate. Recent indications have satisfactorily convinced
us on that point, and as we wish to be considered
among the “originals”—the real Simon Pures, we
would lose no time in nominating

For President,
MAJOR JACK DOWNING,
Of Downingville.

In recommending this distinguished personage to our
fellow citizens, it will be scarcely necessary to enumerate
his various claims to their suffrages. Suffice it
to say, his military renown, his valuable public services
in assisting President Jackson to put down the
Nullifiers, especially in shaking hands with the Yankees
“down east,” and last though not least, the fidelity
with which he and his uncle Joshua stuck to the
Old Hero after he found he was going to be President,
eminently qualify him for that exalted station.

LETTER LV.

My Dear Friend.—We are driving back again full
chisel, as fast as we come on when we were on the
Rail Road between Washington and Baltimore. And
we've been drivin so fast on a round turn in all the
places where we've been, and have had so much shaking
hands and eating and one thing another to do, that
I could 'nt get time to write to you at half the places
where I wanted to, so I thought I'd set down now,
while the President's laid down to rest him awhile, and
tell you something about Cambridge and Lowell. Ye
see when we were at Boston they sent word to us

to come out to Cambridge, for they wanted to make
the President a Doctor of Laws. What upon arth a
Doctor of Laws was, or why they wanted to make the
President one, I could n't think. So when we come
to go up to bed I asked the Gineral about it. And says
I, Gineral, what is it they want to do to you out to Cambridge?
Says he they want to make a Doctor of Laws
of me. Well, says I, but what good will that do?
Why, says he, you know Major Downing, there's a
pesky many of them are laws passed by Congress, that
are rickety things. Some of 'em have very poor constitutions,
and some of 'em have n't no constitutions at
all. So that it is necessary to have somebody there to
Doctor 'em up a little, and not let 'em go out into the
world where they would stan a chance to catch cold
and be sick, without they had good constitutions to bear
it. You know, says he, I have had to doctor the Laws
considerable ever since I've been at Washington, although
I was n't a regular bred Doctor. And I made
out so well about it, that these Cambridge folks think I
had better be mad into a regular Doctor at once, and
then there 'll be no grumbling and disputing about my
practice. Says he, Major, what do you think of it?
I told him I thought it was an excellent plan; and
asked him if he did n't think they would be willing,
bein I'd been round in the military business considerable
for a year or two past, to make me a Doctor of War.
He said he did n't know, but he thought it would be
no harm to try 'em. But says, he Major, I feel a little
kind of streaked about it after all; for they say they
will go talking to me in Latin, and although I studied
it a little once, I dont know any more about it now than
the man in the moon. And how I can get along in
that case I dont know. I told him my way, when any
body talked to me in a lingo that I didn't understand,
was jest to say nothing, but look as knowing as any of
'em, and then they thought I knew a pesky sight more
than any of 'em. At that the Gineral fetched me a
slap on the shoulder and haw hawed right out. Says
he, Major Downing, you are the boy for me; I do n't
know how I should get along in this world if it was n't
for you.

So when we got ready we went right to Cambridge
as bold as could be. And that are Cambridge is a real
pretty place; it seems to me I should like to live in
them Colleges as well as any place I've seen. We
went into the Libry, and I guess I stared a little, for I
did n't think before there was half so many books in
the world I should think there was near about enough
to fill a meetin house. I dont believe they was ever
all read or ever will be to all ages.

When we come to go in to be made Doctors of, there
was a terrible crowding round; but they give us a good
place, and then sure enough they did begin to talk in
Latin or some other gibberish; but whether they were
talking to the Gineral, or who 'twas, I could n't tell. I
guess the Gineral was a little puzzled. But he never
said a word, only once in a while bowed a little. And
I spose he happened sometimes to put in the bows in
the wrong place, for I could see some of the sassy students
look up one side once a while, and snicker out of
one corner of their mouths. Howsomever the Gineral
stood it out like a hero, and got through very well.
And when 'twas over, I stept up to Mr. Quincey and
asked him if he would n't be so good as to make me a
Doctor of War, and hinted to him a little about my
services down to Madawaska and among the nullifiers.
At that he made me a very polite bow, and says he,
Major Downing, we should be very happy to oblige you
if we could, but we never give any degrees of war here;
all our degrees are degrees of peace. So I find I shall
have to practice war in the natural way, let nullification,
or what will, come. After 'was all over we went
to Mr. Quincey's and had a capital dinner. And on
the whole had about as good a visit to Cambridge as
most any where.

I meant to a told you considerable about Lowell, but
the steamboat goes so fast, I shant have time to. We

went all over the Factories; and there! I wont try to
say one word about 'em, for I've been filled with such
a wondermient ever since, that my ideas are all as big
as hay stacks, and if I should try to get one of 'em out
of my head, it would tear it all to pieces. It beat all
that ever I heard of before, and the Gineral said it beat
all that ever he heard of. But what made the Gineral
hold his head up and feel more like a soldier, than he
had before since he was at New Orleans, was when we
marched along the street by them are five thousand
gals, all dressed up and looking as pretty as a million
of butterflies. The Gineral marched along as light as
a boy, and seems to me I never see his eyes shine so
bright afore. After we got along about to the middle
of 'em, he whispered to me, and says he, Major Downing,
is your Cousin Nabby here among 'em; if she is, I
must be introduced to her. I told him she was not; as
they were expecting us to come to Downingville, she
staid to home to help get ready. Well, says he, if any
thing should happen that we can't go to Downingville,
you must send for your Cousin Nabby and Uncle Joshua
to come on to Washington to see me. I will bear
all the expenses, if they will only come, says he; these
northern gals are as much afore our southern and western
gals as can be, and I've thought of you Cousin
Nabby a great deal lately—he looked as though he was
going to say something more, but Mr. Van Buren and
the rest of 'em crowded up along so near that it broke
off, and had to go along.

I see we've got most to York, and shall have to
go ashore in a few minutes, so I cant write any more
now, but remain your sincere and loving friend,

LETTER LVI.

My dear old Friend, you.—I dont know but you
might think strange on 't, that I should be back here to
Washington more than a fortnight, and not write to
you. But I hant forgot you. You need n't never be
afraid of that. We aint very apt to forget our best
friends; and you may depend upon it Jack Downing
will never forget the editor of the Portland Courier any
more than Andrew Jackson will forget Jack Downing.
You was the first person that ever give me a lift into
public life, and you 've been a boosting me along ever
since. And jest between you and me I think I 'm getting
into a way now where I shall be able by and by to
do something to pay you for it. The reason that I have
n't writ to you before, is, that we have had pretty serious
business to attend to since we got back. But we
've jest got through with it, and Mr. Van Buren has
cleared out and gone back about the quickest to New
York, and I guess with a bed-bug in his ear. Now
jest between you and me in confidence, I'll tell you
how 'tis; but pray dont let on about it to any body
else for the world. Did n't you think plaguy strange
what made us cut back so quick from Concord without
going to Portland or Portsmouth or Downingville?
You know the papers have said it was because the president
want very well, and the president had to make
that excuse himself in some of his letters; but it was
no such thing. The president could a marched on foot
twenty miles a day then, and only let him been at the

head of my Downingville company and he 'd a whole
British regiment scamper like a flock of sheep.

But you see the trouble ont was, there was some difficulty
between I and Mr. Van Buren. Some how or
other Mr. Van Buren always looked kind of jealous at
me all the time after he met us at New York; and I
could n't help minding every time the folks hollered
`hoorah for Major Downing' he would turn as red as a
blaze of fire. And wherever we stopped to take a bite
or to have a chat, he would always work it, if he could,
somehow or other so as to crowd in between me and
the president. Well, ye see, I would n't mind much
about it, but would jest step round 'tother side. And
though I say it myself, the folks would look at me, let
me be on which side I would; and after they'd cried
hoorah for the president, they'd most always sing out
`hoorah for Major Downing.' Mr. Van Buren kept
growing more and more fidgety till we got to Concord.
And there we had a room full of sturdy old democrats
of New Hampshire, and after they had all flocked
round the old president and shook hands with him, he
happened to introduce me to some of 'em before he did
Mr. Van Buren. At that the fat was all in the fire.
Mr. Van Buren wheeled about and marched out of the
room looking as though he could bite a board nail off.
The president had to send for him three times before
he could get him back into the room again. And when
he did come, he didn't speak to me for the whole evening.
However we kept it from the company pretty
much; but when we come to go up to bed that night,
we had a real quarrel. It was nothing but jaw, jaw,
the whole night. Mr. Woodbury and Mr. Cass tried
to pacify us all they could, but it was all in vain, we
didn't one of us get a wink of sleep, and shouldn't if
the night had lasted a fortnight. Mr. Van Buren said
the president had dishonoured the country by placing a
military major on half pay before the second officer of
the government. The president begged him to consider
that I was a very particular friend of his; that I

had been a great help to him at both ends of the country;
that I had kept the British out of Madawaska
away down in Maine, and had marched my company
clear from Downingville to Washington, on my way
to South Carolina, to put down the nullifiers; and he
thought I was entitled to as much respect as any man
in the country.

This nettled Mr. Van Buren peskily. He said he
thought it was a fine time of day if a raw jockey from
an obscure village away down east, jest because he had
a major's commission, was going to throw the vice president
of the United States and the heads of departments
into the back ground. At this my dander began
to rise, and I stepped right up to him; and says I, Mr.
Van Buren, you are the last man that ought to call me
a jockey. And if you 'll go to Downingville and stand
up before my company with Sargeant Joel at their head,
and call Downingville an obscure village, I'll let you
use my head for a foot-ball as long as you live afterwards.
For if they wouldn't blow you into ten thousand
atoms, I'll never guess again. We got so high at
last that the old president hopt off the bed like a boy;
for he had laid down to rest him, bein it was near daylight,
though he couldn't get to sleep. And says he,
Mr. Donaldson, set down and write Mr. Anderson at
Portland, and my friend Joshua Downing at Downingville,
that I can't come. I'm going to start for Washington
this morning. What, says Mr. Cass, and not
go to Portsmouth and Exeter and round there! I tell
you, says the president, I'm going to start for Washington
this morning, and in three days I'll be there.
What, says Mr. Woodbury, and not go to Portland,
where they have spent so much money to get ready for
us! I tell you, says the president, my foot is down:
I go not a step further, but turn about this morning for
Washington. What, says I, and not go to Downingville,
what will Uncle Joshua say? At this the president
looked a little hurt; and says he, Major Downing,
I can't help it. As for going any further with

such a din as this about my ears, I cannot, and will not,
and I am resolved not to budge another inch. And sure
enough the president was as good as his word, and we
were all packed up by sunrise, and in three days we
were in Washington.

And here we've been ever since, battling the watch
about the next presidency. Mr. Van Buren says the
president promised it to him, and now he charges me
and the president with a plot to work myself into it and
leave him out. It's true I've been nominated in a good
many papers, in the National Intelligencer, and in the
Munch Chunk Courier printed away off among the coal
diggers in Pennsylvany, and a good many more. And
them are Pennsylvany chaps are real pealers for electing
folks when they take hold; and that's what makes
Mr. Van Buren so uneasy. The president tells him as
he has promised to help him, he shall do what he can for
him; but if the folks will vote for me he can't help it.
Mr. Van Buren wanted I should come out in the National
Intelligencer and resign, and so be put up for vice
president under him. But I told him no; bein it had
gone so fur I wouldn't do nothing about it. I hadn't asked
for the office, and if the folks had a mind to give it to
me I wouldn't refuse it. So after we had battled it
about a fortnight, Mr. Van Buren found it was no use
to try to dicker with me, and he's cleared out and gone
to New York to see what he can do there.

I never thought of getting in to be president so soon,
though I 've had a kind of bankering for it this two
years. But now, seeing it's turned out as it has, I'm
determined to make a bold push, and if I can get in by
the free votes of the people, I mean to. The president
says he'd rather I should have it than any body else, and
if he had n't promised Mr. Van Buren before hand, he
would use his influence for me.

I remember when I was a boy about a dozen years
old, there was an old woman come to our house to tell
fortunes. And after she 'd told the rest of 'em, father
says he, here's Jack, you have n't told his fortunes yet,

and I dont spose it 's worth a telling, for he 's a real
mutton-headed boy. At that the old woman catched
hold of my hair, and pulled my head back and looked
into my face, and I never shall forget how she looked
right through me, as long as I live. At last, says she,
and she gin me a shove that sent me almost through the
side of the house, Jack will beat the whole of you. He
'll be a famous climber in his day, and wherever he sets
out to climb, you may depend upon it, he will go to the
top of the ladder. Now, putting all these things together,
and the nominations in the papers, and the `hoorahs
for Major Downing,' I dont know what it means,
unless it means that I must be president. So, as I said
afore, I'm determined to make a bold push. I 've writ
to Col. Crocket to see if I can get the support of the
western states, and his reply is, `go ahead.' I shall
depend upon you and uncle Joshua to carry the state
of Maine for me; and, in order to secure the other
states, I spose it will be necessary to publish my life
and writings. President Jackson had his life published
before he was elected, and when Mr. Clay was a
candidate he had hisn published. I 've talked with the
president about it, and he says, publish it by all means,
and set the printer of the Portland Courier right about
it.

So I want you to go to work as soon as you get this,
and pick up my letters, and begin to print 'em in a
book; and I 'll set down and write a history of my
life to put into it, and send it along as fast as I can get
it done. But I want you to be very careful not to get
any of them are confounded counterfeit letters, that
the rascally fellers have been sending to the printers,
mixed in long with mine. It would be as bad as breaking
a rotten egg in long with the good ones; it would
spile the whole puddin. You can tell all my letters,
for they were all sent to you first.

The president says I must have a picter of me made
and put into the book.—He says he had one put into
his, and Mr. Clay had one put into his. So I believe I

shall write to Mr. Thatcher that prints the little journal
paper in Boston, and get him to go to some of the
best picter-makers there, and get them to do me up
some as slick as they can. These thing, you know,
wilt all help get the free votes of the people ; and that
's all I want. For I tell you now, right up and down,
I never will tape any office that does n't come by the
free votes of the people. I 'm a ginuin democratic
republican, and always was, and so was my father before
me, and uncle Joshua besides.

There's a few more things that I want to speak to
you about in this letter but I'm afraid it will get to be
too lengthy. That are story. that they got in the newspapers
about my being marred in Philadelphy is all a
hoax. I aint married yet, nor I sham be till a little
blue-eyed gal, that used to run about with me, and go
to school and slide down hill in Downingville is the
wife of President Downing. And that are other story
that the President give me a Curnel's commission jest
before we started down east, is n't exactly true. The
President did offer me one, but I thanked him, and told
him if he would excuse me, I should rather not take
it, for I had always noticed that Majors were more apt
to rise in the world than Curnels.

I wish you would take a little pains to send up to
Downingville and get uncle Joshua to call a public
meeting, and have me nominated there. I'm so well
known there, it would have a great effect in other places.
And I want to leave it particularly understood,
and so stated in their resolutions, that I am the ginuin
democratic republican candidate. I know you will put
your shoulder to the wheel in this business and do all
you can for me, for you was always a good friend to me,
and, jest between you and me, when I get in to be
President you may depend upon it you shall have as
good an office as you want.

But I see it's time for me to end this letter. The
President is quite comfortable, and sends his respects
to you and uncle Joshua. I remain your sincere friend,
MAJOR JACK DOWNING.

LETTER LVII.

DEAR COUSIN JACK.—I've got something pretty
heavy on my mind that I want to tell ye about, and ask
your advice, and may be I shall want you to lend me a
hand a little. I've been watching politics pretty snug
ever since I was a little boy, and that's near about forty
years; and I believe I know most as much about it as
uncle Joshua, although he's twenty years older than I
be. Now about this republicanism and federalism, I've
minded, that it always keeps changing, and always has,
ever since I can remember. And I've minded to it
most always keeps going round one way; that is, the
young federalists keep turning dimocrats, and the old
dimocrats keep turning federalists. What it's for I
dont exactly know, but that's the way it goes. I spose
a man, on the whole, is n't hardly fit to be a dimocrat
after he gets to be fifty years old. And here is old
uncle Joshua in the Post Office, he's got to be about
sixty, and he's hanging on to the dimocratic side yea,
like the tooth-ache; and it begins to worry me a good
deal. I think it's high time he went over. You know
Downingville has always been a ginuin republican
town, and I want it should always go according to the
usages [I think that's what they call it] of the democratic
party.

When it gets to be time for an old dimocrat to go over
on the federal side, I believe the Argus always puts 'em
over. You remember there was old Mr. Insley in Portland,
and old Ginera! Wingate in Bath, as much as a

dozen years ago, were some as big republicans as there
was any where about. Well, they got to be considerable
old, and had been in office sometime, so the Argus took
and clapt 'em right over on to the federal side. And
you know there was Mr. Holmes, he was a whapping
great republican. But he begun to grow old, and so the
Argus put him over. And there was Mr. Sprague; he
was such a nice dimocrat every one said it was a pitty
to put him over. But bein he 'd been to Congress sometime,
the Argus would n't hear a word, but shoved him
right over.

And this summer the Argus is putting of 'em over
considerable younger on to the federal side. It has put
Judge Preble over, and Judge Ware, and Mr. Mitchell
the Post Master at Portland, and he is n't near so old as
uncle Joshua, and it has put Mr. Megquier over, only
think, such a young man as Mr. Megquier, that's only
been in the Sinnet three or four years. Now dont you
think, according to dimocratic usage, it is high time old
uncle Joshua was put over. I wish you would jest write
to the Argus and have it done, for I feel a good deal
worried about it.

And as soon as it comes out in the Argus that he is
fairly over, I want you to tell the President that uncle
Joshua is a federalist, and have him removed from the
Post Office, for it would be an everlasting shame to have
the Post Office in Downingville kept by a federalist.

N.B. If uncle Joshua should be removed I wish you
would use your influence to get the President to give the
office to me; for next to Uncle Joshua I spose I've done
more for the republican party than any man in Downingville.
I can have a recommendation from Sargent
Joel and all the company. By attending to this you
will much oblige your friend and cousin,

LETTER LVIII.

My dear old Friend,—Its got to be a pretty considerable
long while now since I've writ to you, for I never
like to write, you know, without I have something to
say.—But I've got something on my mind now, that
keeps me all the time a thinking so much that I cant
hold in any longer. So jest between you and me I'll
tell you what 'tis. But I must begin a little ways beforehand,
so you can see both sides of it, and I'll tell
you what 'tis as soon as I get along to it.

You see I and the President has been down to the
Rip Raps a few weeks to try to recruit up a little; for
that pesky tower away down East like to did the job for
the old Gineral. So, after we got things pretty much to
rights here, we jest stepped aboard the steamboat and
and went down to the Rip Raps. That are Rip Raps is
a capital place; it is worth all the money we ever paid
for it, if it was for nothing else only jest to recruit up
the Government. It is one of the most coolest places
in the summer time that you ever see. Let a feller be
all worn out and wilted down as limpsy as a rag, so that
the doctors would think he was jest ready to fly off the
handle, and let him go down to the Rip Raps and stay
there a fortnight, and he'd come up again as smart as a
steeltrap. The President got recruited up so nicely,
while we were down to the Rip Raps, that ever since
we got back till two or three days ago, he has been as
good natured and sociable as ever I should wish to see
a body. And now I'm coming, pretty soon, to what I
was going to tell you about, that bears so heavy on my
mind.

Your see the President likes every morning after the
breakfast is out of the way, to set down and read over
the newspapers, and see what is going on in the country,
and who's elected and so on So when we've done
breakfast, we take the letters and papers that come from
the Post-Office, and go away by ourselves into the great
East Room where we can say jest what we've a mind to,
and nobody not hear us, and the President sets down
in his great arm rocking-chair and smokes his segar,
and I set down by the table and read to him. Last
Monday morning, as I was reading over the papers one
arter another, I come to a Pennsylvania paper and opened
it, and, says I, hullow, gineral, here's a speech of
Mr. Webster at Pittsburg, as large as life. Ah, said
he; well, let us hear what Daniel has been talking to
them are Pennsylvany and Ohio chaps about. So I
hitched back in my chair, and read on. And by and by
I begun to get into the marrow of the story, where he
told all about Nullification, and what a dark time we
had of it last winter, and how the black clouds begun
to rise and spread over the country, and the thunders
of civil war begun to roll and rumble away off to the
South, and by and by how the tempest was jest ready to
burst over our heads and split the country all into shivers,
and how, in the very nick of time, the President's
Proclamation came out and spread over the whole country
like a rain-bow, and how every body then took courage
and said the danger was all over. While I had
been reading this, the President had started up on his
feet, and walked back and forth across the room pretty
quick, puffing away and making the smoke roll out of
his mouth like a house a fire; and by the time I had got
through, he had thrown his segar out of the window,
and come and sot down, leaning his elbow on the table
and looking right in my face. I laid the paper down,
and there he sot looking right at me as much as five
minutes, and never said a word; but he seemed to keep
a thinking, as fast as a horse could run. At last, said
he, Major Downing, were you ever told that you resembled
Daniel Webster?

Why, Gineral, says I, how do you mean, in looks
or what?

Why perhaps a little of both says he, but mostly in
looks.

Bless my stars, says I, Gineral, you dont mean to say
that I am quite so dark as he is.

Perhaps not, says he; but you have that sharp knowing
look, as though you could see right through a millstone.
I know, says he, that Mr. Webster is rather a
dark looking man, but there is n't another man in this
country that can throw so much light on a dark subject
as he can.

Why yes, says I, he has a remarkable faculty for
that; he can see through most any thing, and he can
make other folks see through it too. I guess, says I, if
he'd been born in old Virginny he'd stood next to most
anybody.

A leetle afore 'em, says the Gineral, in my own way
of thinking. I'll tell you what 't is Major, I begin to
think your New Englanders aint the worst sort of fellows
in the world after all.

Ah well says I, seeing is believing, and you 've been
down that way now and can judge for yourself. But if
you had only gone as fur as Downingville I guess you
would have thought still better of 'em than you do now.
Other folks may talk larger and bluster more, says I,
but whenever you are in trouble, and want the real support
in time of need, go to New England for it and you
never need to be afraid but what it will come.

I believe you are right, says the Gineral; for notwithstanding
all I could do with my proclamation against
nullification, I believe I should have rubbed hard if
there had been no such men in the country as Major
Downing and Daniel Webster.

But this nullification business is not killed yet. The
tops are beat down, but the roots are alive as ever, and
spreading under ground wider and wider, and one of
these days when they begin to sprout up again there 'll
be a tougher scrabble to keep 'em down than there has

been yet; and I 've been thinking, says he, and he laid
his hand on my shoulder and looked very anxious, I've
been thinking says he, if you and Daniel—and here
the door opened and in cometh Amos Kendle with a
long letter from Mr Van Buren about the Bank and the
safety fund and the Government deposites and I dont
know what all; and the President's brow was clouded
in a minute; for he always feels kind of pettish when
they plague him about the safety fund. I have n't had
any chance to talk with him since, there 's so many of
'em round him; and I 'm as uneasy as a fish out of
water, I feel so anxious to know what the President was
going to say about me and Daniel. I shall watch the
first chance when I think it will do to talk with him,
and find out what he was going to say. I cant hardly
sleep a nights, I think so much about it. When I find
out I'll write to you again.

Send my love to the folks up in Downingville when
you have a chance.

LETTER LIX.

My Dear Friend,—Havn't you been in a terrible
kind of a pucker ever since my last letter to you, to
know what the President was going to say about me
and Daniel? If you havn't, I have. I never felt so uneasy
for a fortnight hardly in my life. If I went to bed

I couldn't sleep, and I've got up and walked the floor
as much as half the night almost every night since.—
I've wished the Bank to Guinea more than fifty times,
for there's been such a hubbub here about the Bank
this fortnight past, that I couldn't get a moment's chance
to talk with the President about any thing else. We'd
have cabinet meetings once in awhile to see about moving
the deposites, and Mr. Duane and Mr. Cass and Mr.
McLane would talk up to the President so about it, that
he'd conclude to let 'em alone and do nothing about it,
and let Congress manage it jest as they'd amind to.
And then we'd go home and Mr. Kendle would come in
and talk the matter over, and read some great long letters
from Mr. Van Buren, and get the President so confused
that he would lose all patience a most.

But Mr. Kendle is the master feller to hang on that
ever I see; he's equal to the tooth ache. And he talked
and palavered with the President till he finally
brought him over, and then the President put his foot
down, and said the deposites should be moved whether
or no. And then the botheration was to see who should
move 'em. The President told Mr. Duane to do it; but
he said his conscience wouldn't let him. Then the
President told Mr. Taney to take Mr. Duane's place, and
see if his conscience would let him. Mr. Taney tried
it and found his conscience went easy enough, so Mr.
Duane packed up and went home to Philadelphy. We
were all dreadful sorry to loose Mr. Duane, for he was
a nice man as you will see one in a thousand. It's a
pity he had such a stiff conscience; he might have staid
here in the Treasury jest as well as not, it it hadn't been
for that.

But this storm about the Bank begins to blow over,
and the President's got in a manner cooled down again.
This morning after breakfast we took the papers and
letters jest as we used to, and went away into the east
room to read the news and chat awhile; and it really
did my heart good to see the President set down once

more looking so good natured in his great arm chair
smoking his segar. After I had read over the news to
him awhile, and got him in pretty good humour, I made
bold to out with it, and says I Gineral, there's one question
I want to ask you.—And says he, you know Major,
I always allow you to ask me any thing you're a mind
to, what is it? Well says I, when we had that talk here
about a fortnight ago, you begun to say something about
me and Daniel; and jest as you got into the middle of
it, Mr. Kendle came in and broke it right off short as a
pipe stem. It's been running in my head ever since,
and I've been half crazy to know what it was you was
going to say. Well, let us see, says the Gineral, where
was it I felt off; for this everlasting fuss about the Bank
has kept my head so full I can't seem to remember much
about it.

Why says I, you was talking about nullification; how
the tops were beat down a little, but the roots were all
running about under ground as live as ever, and it
would n't be long before they'd be sprouting up again
all over the country, and there'd be a tougher scrabble
to keep 'em down than ever there had been yet; and
then you said if I and Daniel—and there that plaguy
Kendle came in, I've no patience with him now when I
think of it, and broke it right off. Ah, now I remember,
says the Gineral, how 'twas. Well, says he, Major
Downing, it is a solemn fact, this country is to see a
blacker storm of nullification before many years comes
about than ever it has seen yet; the clouds are beginning
to gather now; I've seen 'em rolling over South
Carolina, and hanging about Georgia, and edging along
into old Virginny, and I see the storm's a gathering; it
must come, and if there is n't somebody at the helm that
knows how to steer pretty well, the old ship must go
down. I aint afraid, says he, but what I can keep her
up while I have the command, but I'm getting to be old
and must give up soon, and then what'll become of her
I dont know. But what I was going to say was this;
I've been thinking if you and Daniel, after I give up,

would put your heads together and take charge of her
till the storm has blown over, you might save her. And
I dont know who else can.

But how do you mean, Gineral, says I? Why to speak
plain, says he, if nullification shows its head. Daniel
must talk and you must fight. There's nothing else will
do the job for it that I know of. Daniel must go into
the Presidential chair, and you must take command of
the army, and then things will go straight. At this I
was a little struck up; and I looked him right in the
eye. and, says I, Gineral, do you mean that Daniel
Webster ought to be President after you give up? Certainly,
says he, if you want to keep the country out of
the jaws of nullification. But, says I, Gineral, Daniel
is a federalist, a Hartford Convention federalist, and I
should like to know which is worst, the jaws of nullification,
or the jaws of federalism. The jaws of a fiddle-stick! said the President, starting up and throwing
his segar out of the window as much as two rods; but
how do you know, Major Downing, that Daniel is a
federalist? Because, says I, I've heard him called so
down east more than a hundred times. And that's jest
all you know about it, says he. Now I tell you how 'tis,
Major Downing, Daniel is as thorough a republican as
you be, or as I be, and has been ever since my Proclamation
came out against nullification. As soon as that
Proclamation came out Daniel came right over on to the
republican ground and took it upon his shoulder and
carried it through thick and thin where no other man in
the country could have carried it. Says I, Gineral, is
that a fact? And says he yes, you may depend upon it,
'tis every word truth. Well says I, that alters the case
a little, and I'll write to Uncle Joshua and the editor of
the Portland Courier and see what they think of it, and
if they think it's best to have Daniel for President we'll
have him in, and I'll take my turn afterwards: for seeing
the people are bent upon having me for President I
wont decline, though if it is thought best that I should
wait a little while, I wont be particular about that.

I'm willing to do that which will be best for the country.

LETTER LX.

To my Neffu John Downing:—I am got to be
amost eighty three Yere old, and I'm in my eighty
third Year now, and its so long since I have took any
Pen in my hand to write any thing nor a Letter to any
Boddy living for now going on a very long Time. And
what makes it particular bad for me is that my Fingers
is got stiff with Rhumatiz and cold, and is all Thums,
as much as tho they was froze in the Winter.—Your
Ant is sick abed; she ketch'd cold some Time in
Aperil, and I dont know when she will git over it; she
is in her eighty second Year most as old as I be, we
are both very old and prety much done with this World,
so to speake. I did not ever expect to write any more
Letters to my Friends because I'm in my eighty third
Year and am too old most to write Letters. But you
writ a Letter to me from the Citty of Washington and
it was throw'd out of the Stage Wensday as it drove
by. And when I redd about your goin to take the
President of these United States to Downingvile then I
said to your Ant my dear I must try and write an
Answer to Jonny's Letter.

I was jeest about as old as you be John when the
Great Washington died, 14 day of December, and was

with him and spoke with him seventeen year before,
when he left the Army and wisht I might live many
yeares, and what you writ to me makes me think a good
deal of that time. I shant forget it to my dyin day—
but I hope you wont have Ardint Sperrits in your Town
on the occasion. I dont drink any more Flip nor Tody
sence 17 August A. D. 1831 and am better fort, and
hope Brother Joshua has stopped. Two of my Cows
was lost last year by Destemper and one of Mr. Doolittles
who lives opposite, is a hard worken Man. Some
Destemper was here this yere but I follerd what was
said in the Temperance Almanick and they was cured
in time to git over it. I desire that my Brother Joshua
woud write a Letter to me to let me know whether he
is going to make out as well with his Ternips as he did
3 year ago, he wrote to your Ant about it. I tryde
that Plan here, but it dont do in this Soil, it is to dry
most of it. Your Aut tells me she dont think Brother
Joshua can be so strong of his Age as I be, seeing he
hant writ any of us since that Account of his Garding
Sauce turnin out so remarkable good that year.

It is thirty-two years ago next month since I was in
Donwningville, how is Deacon Wiloby and his family
and his daughter Sooky was uncommon humersome, but
your ant always used to say she thot Sooky was a little
too fond of seeing people perlite and that she was to
espirin for Downingvile when she was young and a comely
child. I thank you John for some newspapers you
sent to me last when so much was writ about the President
and the Vice President, one spell I was afeared
that the poor salvages in Georgia State was agoin to
suffer till the great Proclamation to the Nuliphiers as
they are called which you sent to me, but I hope they
are not now, they are a sufferin People certin. If you
do take the President east I hope there is no boddy but
what will treat him with respect. You know John I dont
know much about politix, but I know something of my
bible, and I hope I shall alwais read in it while I continue
to live, and it says in the 2nd Book of Samuel,

about Absalom's setting by the gate and shakin hands
and kissin every boddy that passed by, and whisperin
in their ears what he would do if he was king, and you
know mor about the Vice President, and I ask you if
that man aint adoin so too, and if it is not some boddys
duty to speak to the President about it. But my hand
shakes somes writin so much, and give my love and
ants to all our relations and to the neighbours of yours
that I used to know.

LETTER LXI.

BANK REPORT.

To the Editor of the New York Daily Advertiser.

Major Downing's Official Report on the United States Bank
Published by `authority.'

Dear Sir,—I have jest got here after examinin the
Bank; and it was the toughest job, ever I had in my
life. The Gineral was so bent on my doing it, that I
had to `go ahead,' or I'd sneak'd out the first day. I
was nigh upon a week about it, figerin and siferin all
the while. Mr. Biddle see quick enuf it was no fool's
journey I come on; and I made some of his folks scratch
their heads, I tell you. I gin 'em no notice of my comin,
and I jump'd right in the thickest on 'em there one
day, when they were tumblin in and shellin out the munny
like corn. `Now,' says I, `my boys, I advise all
on ye to brush up your multiplication tables, for I am
down upon you with alligation, and the rule of three,
and vulgar fractions; and if I find a penny out of place,
the Gineral shall know it. I'm no green horn, nor member
of Congress, nor Judge Clayton, nor Mr. Cambreleng,

neither,' says I. As soon as Mr. Biddle read
the letter the Gineral sent by me, says he, `Major, I m
glad the Gineral has sent some one at last that knows
something, and can give a strait account,' and with that
he called all the Bank folks, and tell'd 'em to bring
their books together. `Now,' says he, `Major, which
eend shall we begin at first.' `It makes no odds which,'
says I, `all I care about is to see if both eends meet;
and if they don't, Mr. Biddle,' says I, `it's all over
with you and the Bank—you'll all go, hook and line,'
—and then we off coats and went at it. I found some
of them are fellers there plagy sharp at siferin. They'd
do a sum by a kinder short Dilworth quick as a flash.
I always use a slate—it comes kinder natural to me;
and I chalk'd her off there the first day and figur'd out
nigh upon 100 pretty considerable tuf sums. There
was more than three cart load of books about us, and
every one on 'em bigger than the Deacon's family Bible.
And sich an etarnal batch of figerin I never see, and
there wasn't a blot or scratch in the whole on 'em

I put a good many questions to Mr. Biddle, for the
Gineral gin me a long string on 'em; and I thought
some would stagger him, but he answered them all jest
as glib as our boys in Downingville do the catakize,
from the chief `eend of man,' clean through the petitions—and
he did it all in a mighty civil way too, ther
was only one he kinder tried to git round, and that
was—how he came to have so few of the Gineral's
folks among the Directors until very lately? `Why,'
says he, Major, and Major,' says he (and then he got
up and took a pinch of snuff and offered me one) says
he, `Major, the Bank knows no party; and in the
first go off, you know, the Gineral's friends were all
above matters of so little importance as Banks and
Banking. If we had but a branch in Downingville,'
says he. `the Gineral would not have had occasion to
ask such a question,' and with that he made me a bow;
and I went home and took dinner with him. It is plagy
curious to hear him talk about millions and thousands;

and I got as glib too at it as he is; and how on earth I
shall get back agin to ninepences and four-pence-happenies,
I can't tell.

Arter I had been figerin away there nigh upon a
week, and used up four or five slate pencils, and spit
my mouth as dry as a cob, rubbin out the sums as last
as I did them, I writ to the Gineral and tell'd him it
was no use; I could find no mistake; but so long as the
Bank was at work, it was pretty much like counting a
flock of sheep in a fall day when they are jest let into
a new stubble, for it was all the while crossing and
mixing, and the only way was, to lock up all the Banks,
and as fast as you can count e'm black their noses.

`Now,' says I one day to Squire Biddle, `I'll jest a
look at your moneys bags, for they tell the Gineral you
han' got stuff enuf in the Bank to make him a pair of
spectacles; none of your rags,' says I, `but the real
grit;' and with that he call'd two or three chaps in
Quaker coats, and they opened a large place about as
big as the `east room' and sich a sight I never see—
boxes, bags and kags, all full, and should say nigh upon
a hundred cord. Says I, `Squire Biddle, what on
earth is all this for? for I am stumped.' `O,' says he,
`Major,' that's our Safety Fund.' `How you talk!'
says I. `Now, says I, `is that all genwine?' `Every
dollar of it,' says he. `Will you count it, Major?'
says he. `Not to day,' says I; `but as the Gineral
wants me to be particular, I'll jest hussle some 'em;'
and at it I went, hammer and file. It raly did mo good,
for I did not think there was so much real chink in all
creation. So when I got tired, I set down on a pile,
and took out my wallet, and begun to count over some
of the `safety fund' notes I got shaved with on the
grand tower. `Here,' says I, `Squire Biddle, I have
a small trifle I should like to barter with you; it's all
“safety fund,”' says I; `and Mr. Van Buren's head
is on most all of 'em.' But as soon as he put his eye
on 'em, he shook his head. I see he had his eye teeth

cut. `Well,' says I, `it's no matter;' but it lifted my
dander considerable.

`Now,' says I, Mr. Biddle, I've got one more question
to put to you and then I'm through. You say your
bills are better than the hard dollars; this puzzles me,
and the Gineral too. Now, how is this?' `Well,'
says he, `Major, I'll tell you: Suppose you had a
bushel of potatoes at Downingville, and you wanted to
send them to Washington, how much would it cost to
get them there?' `Well, says I, `about two shillins
lawful—for I sent a barrel there to the Gineral, last
fall, and that cost me a dollar freight.' `Well,' say,
`suppose I've got potatoes in Washington jest as good
as yours, and I take your potatoes in Downingville,
and give you an order to receive a bushel of potatoes in
Washington, wouldn't you save two shillins lawful by
that? We sometimes charge,' says he, `a trifle for
drafts, when the places are distant, but never as much
as it would cost to carry the dollars,' and with that we
looked into the accounts agin, and there it was. Says
I, `Squire Biddle, I see it now as clear as a whistle.'

When I got back to Washington, I found the Gineral
off to the `Rip Raps,' and so I arter him. One feller
there tell'd me I could'nt go to the Rip Raps—that
the Gineral was there to keep off business; but as soon
as I told him who I was, he ordered a boat and I paddled
off.

The Gineral and I have talked over all the Bank business;
he says it is not the best to publish my report,
as he wants it for the message; and it would only set
them Stock fish nibblin agin in Wall Street. I made
him stare when I tell'd him about the dollars I saw
there; and once and awhile he would rinkle his face up
like a ball of ravilins; and when I tell'd him Biddle
would n't give me any of his `Safety Fund' for any of
Mr. Van Buren's that I had with me, the Gineral took
out his wallet, and slung it more than five rods into
the brakers.

We are now purtty busy, fittin and jointin the
beams and rafters of the message; and if Mr. Van Buren

dont get back before we begin to shingle it, I guess
that his Safety Fund will stand but a poor chance.

The Gineral don't care much about having his head
for a sign board, but says he, `Major, when they put
my head on one eend of a Bank Bill, and Mr. Van Buren's
on tother eend, and “promise to pay Andrew
Jackson,” and then blow up, it's too bad—I won't allow
it—it shant be.' The Gineral says, if he allows
Amos Kendle to make his report about the State Banks,
it is but fair to let me publish mine about Square Biddle's
Bank. So I am getting mine ready.

We have a fine cool time here, and ain't bothered
with Office seekers; we can see 'em in droves all along
shore, waitin for a chance. One fellow swam off last
night to get appointed to some office—the Gineral thinks
of making him minister to the King of the Sandwich
Islands, on account of their being all good swimmers
there.

LETTER LXII.

My Good Friend.—“The Government” will leave
here on Saturday, so you must tell all our friends to
stop sending any more letters here. We go strate to
Washington, to put things to rights there for winter.

I and the Gineral have got things now pretty considerable
ssnug; and it is raly curious to see how much more
easy and simple all the publick affairs go on than they

did a spell ago, when Mr. Adams was President. If it
warnt for Congress meetin we cou'd jest go about pretty
much where we pleased, and keep things strate too;
and I begin to think now with the Gineral, that ater all,
there is no great shakes in managin the affairs of the
nation. We have pretty much all on us been joggin
about now since last grass; and things are jest as strate
and clear now as they was then. The Gineral has nigh
upon made up his mind, that there is no use to have
any more Congress. They only bothers—they wou'd do
more good to stay at home, and write letters to us
tellin what is goin on among 'em at home. It would
save a considerable sum of money too; and I 'm also
sartin that there is a plagy raft of fellows on wages that
dont earn nothin. Howsoever, we are goin on makin
things more simple every day, and we once and a while
nock off a pretty considerable number of cogg wheels
and trunnel heads.

The Gineral says he likes things simple as a mouse
trap. But what I like most is, he wont have no one
about him who outranks me, so there is me and Major
Barry, and Major Smith, and Major Earl, and Major
Donaldson, and Major Lewis, and Major Eaton;—and
the major part of a purty considerable of a man to do
the rinting and tell the folks where we be, and once
and a while where the land sales and contracts be too.
There is a enuff on us to do all that's wanted. Every
day jest after breakfast, the Gineral lights his pipe, and
begins to think purty hard, and I and Major Donaldson
begin to open letters for him; and there is more than
three bushels every day, and all the while coming
We dont git through more than a bushel a day; and
never trouble long ones, unless they come from Mr. Van
Buren, or Mr. Kindle, or some other of our great folks.
Then we sort 'em out, jest as Zekel Bigelow does the
mackerel at his Packin Yard, for tho' there are plagy
many more sorts than he finds among fish, we only make
three sorts, and keep three big baskets, one marked `not
red,' another `red, and worth nothin,' and another

`red and to be answered.' And then all the Gineral
has to do is to say, `Major, I reckon we best say so and
so to that,' and I say `jest so,' or not, as the notion
takes me—and then we go at it.

We keep all the Secretaries, and the Vice President,
and some District Attorneys, and a good many more of
our folks, and Amos Kindle, moving about; and they
tell us jest how the cat jumps. And as I said afore, if
it warnt for Congress meetin once a year, we'd put the
Government in a one horse wagon and go jest where we
liked.

The Gineral was amazingly tickled t'other day. Peleg
Bissel—(you know Peleg, who is all the while whitlin,
and sawin, and makin clocks, and apple parers, and
churns, and lives nigh Seth Sprague's School house,
down to Downingville,) well Peleg sent the Gineral a
new churn of his own invention; and he calls it the
`Jackson Churn,' he wants a patent for it. The cute
critur says, in his letter to the Gineral, that that are
churn is jest like his government—its only got one
wheel, and a smasher; and that it will make more butter
than any other churn, and out of eny most any thing.
The Gineral is so well pleased with it, he will set and
turn it nearly all day. Says he, `Major, I like this ere
churn amazingly, that Bissel is a knowin fellow. If
that churn had been made by Congress, it would have
more than fifty wheels and springs, and make no more
butter ater all. Major,' says he, `tell Peleg I thank
him; and send him a patent.'

And so I did; and I telled him in the letter, that the
Gineral would keep his churn in the hall of the white
house, to let folks see that it did n't require as many
cogwheels to make butter as they think on, and then
when they come up chamber, in the Cabinet Room, and
find ony me and the President, they'll understand it
the better. When the Gineral come to sign this letter,
`well,' says he, `Major, that's just what I was thinkin
on. We get every day an everlastin bach of letters
from Mr. Van Buren and Amos Kindle, and they are

so plagy jagged, that we cant make 'em fit exactly with
some others, eny most as jagged, from the South and
West, and all from our folks too. One wants one thing,
and one wants t'other. Some of our folks down South
say, if the Bank is put down, we shall all be split up
into splinters there. And jest so, ony t'other way,
they say, we shant find in a week any of our folks north
if the Bank is rechartered, and some talk of the Nullifiers
in Georgia going for Mr. Van Buren, and that we
must look out sharp, and not do nothin agin 'em. And
some say that are tower of Mr. Webster away West,
and his speeches, bother some on 'em plagily. I was a
little stumped for a spell myself; and I tell'd the Gineral,
says I, `Gineral, if you expect me to satisfy all
these folks, you're mistaken, we cant do it,' says I.—
`Well then,' says he, `we must send for Mr. Van Buren.'
This kinder nettled me, and says I, `Gineral, you
ha'nt forgot that are churnal ready'—`no, no,' says he,
`we'll stick to that Major.' `Well then,' says I `do you
think that Mr. Van Buren will use that are churn? he
keeps his bread buttered,' says I, `by more wheels than
that are churn's got.' `Well Major,' says the Gineral,
`he is a plagy curious critter, ater all—he'll make
wheels turn sometimes right agin one another, yet he
gits along—and when he lets his slice fall, or some one
nocks it out of his hand, it always somehow falls butter
side up'—`well,' says I, `Gineral, dont you know why?'
`not exactly,' says he, `Major'—`well,' says I,—`I'll
tell you—he butters both sides at once,' says I. The
Gineral drew his face all into a rumple for about a
minute, and then he snorted right out.

The Gineral talks of goin to the Hermitage next
spring—he says he thinks he has done enuf for the
country—and I think so too—he says I may go along
with him or stay and lend Mr. Van Buren a hand—
we'll say something about this in the Message.

LETTER LXIII.

My good old Friend,—Ever since we got `the
Government' back here from the Rip Raps, we have
been as busy as if we was all on us cocking hay jist
afore a shower.

I tell'd you some time ago that I and the gineral
was fittin and jointin the beams and rafters of the
message, but almost every day some plaguy new motion
comes in from Mr. Van Buren, and some other of our
folks, and we have to chizzle new mortises, and run
new braces and string pieces, so that I begin to think
it will look curious enuf when its done. The gineral
says he dont care how it fronts, only he is determined
to show a sharp corner to the nullifiers. We shall have
a good deal to say about the Grand Tower; there is
nothin since the 8th of January at New Orleans tickles
the gineral half so much. Every time we talk about
it, the gineral gits right up, and says he, `Major, I
only wish I was fifty years younger, and then,' says he,
`give me the yankees east of Horse Neck, and I'd like
no better sport than to have nullification all over the
rest of creation.'

When things dont go right, and the gineral gits a
little wrathy, if I only tell him the yankees are ready
to back him, he is as firm as granite. It would make
you crawl all over to read that letter we writ to
France, when we come to hear that the king there
kinder suffled round that bill we drawed on him. `He
wont pay it, wont he?' Says he—`Major, what do you
think of that?'—`why,' says I, `Gineral, I think its a
nasty mean action—and a rascally one too,' says I.
`Well,' says he, `that's enuff,'—and then we writ the
letter,—its jest like Zekel Bigelow's speech—it cuts,
shaves, and makes the hair fly—and if it dont bring the
money, I'm mistaken.

If Mr. Livingston had stayd one week longer in
York, the gineral was for sendin me right out.

The most curious part of `the government' here, is
to manage the office seekers. You see, things aint now
as they was afore Mr. Van Buren's time, then it was
kinder divided around among the departments.

The post-master gineral appointed all the post-masters
and their folks. The secretary of the treasury appointed
all the folks in the custom-houses, and all folks
who collected money. These two had an everlastin
batch of fellers to appint, and made them feel pretty
considerable big, and then the war secretary had a good
slice in appointing the cadets, and Ingen agents, and
all the contracts was kinder sifted round among the
departments; and so by the time a new president was
to be made, some of these secretaries was a leetle bigger
than the president himself. Now this is the way
they kinder jockied Mr. Adams, who got to be the
smallest man at Washington, by lettin other folks
plant his corn, and do his huskin; and afore he knowd
it, his own field was all in weeds—and theirs well
howed, rich and clean as a whistle.

But things aint so now, w've got ony one crib, and
that's a whapping one too, and ony one door to it; and
when we shell out our corn, we take good care and
know well who gets it, and where he is going to plant
it; and that aint all—we make 'em agree about the
Huskin Frolic,[2] for that's the best ont arter all.

The longer I am in `the government' the more I
larn. But I must allow that of all the inventions I've
hearn on of Mr. Van Buren's, this is about the slickest.

There is ony one thing wantin, and that he is tryin
for pretty hard—and that is the bank. If he can ony
get that in the crib too, Virginy fences would n't stop
our cattle.

Ony think what an everlastin raft of fellows we

should have—all the presidents and cashiers, and
clerks, and money counters, about the crib, from
Downingville to New Orleans!—and that aint the best
ont; we would have a branch alongside every post-office
to keep our postages safe.

I should like this well enuf I was sartin I and the
gineral and Mr. Van Buren was to be here all the while,
to keep a good look out on the crib door. But the
gineral talks of going hum to put the Hermitage to
rights; and I am in the notion that congress is a leetle
too strong for `the government' when the gineral aint
in it—and I shall go with him. I am eny most fag'd
out myself, and I begin to think with the gineral,
I have done enuf for the country.

We are lookin for Amos Kindle now every hour.
He writ the gineral tother day, and teld him my `Bank
Report' warn't true, and that I must have got a loan of
Squire Biddle. Now that's jist the way with some
folks. What they dont know they guess at; and it's
jest so with old Miss Crane, who keeps the tavern this
side Downingville—jist as sure as any one goes by
without stopping, the old critur says, `There goes so
and so, and has got no money, too, and he knows I
would n't trust him.'

Howsumever, no one can make the gineral rathy
with me. He knows I am the best friend about him;
whenever they gets things in any kind of a twist or a
snarl, says he, `Major, do you unravel that, I 'm the
big wheel and you are the smasher,' says he; and then
we jist give Peleg Bissel's churn a turn or two and all
is right.

You don't print my letters right—you git some words
wrong and spell 'em bad. Jist so the printers sarved
the gineral's letters too; and folks thought he didn't
know nothin, till we got to Cambridge, where they
made a doctor on him.

LETTER LXIV.

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 cant 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 any where.

I have been to work on it ever since we was at the
Rip-Raps; and tho' it has been sometimes all pulled to
bits, to git in some notions we did n't think on, yet it
will look pritty slick, I tell you when it's done; and
we will lay on paint enuf to kiver up all the cracks and
seams.

We shall give a pritty good lick at the Bank, and
won't leave as much on 't standing 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 Chestnut
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 Government' says a thing must be jest so!
there is no help for it. We can't stand to chat about
trifles. The Gineral has smashed 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 is
at home, 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 ony 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 hearen on arterwards. But no matter.—The
Gineral says he didn't make that treaty with the Cherokees;
and it was made so long ago, he has enymost forgot
it: and treaties oughtent to last forever. 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 would n't.
There is trouble enuf about it, I tell you; and you dont
know nothing about it in York. But the Gineral is
tickled to death about it; and as soon as he saw the
Proclamation of the Governor of Alabama, you never
see a critur so spruced up as the Gineral was. Major,
says he, we shall have another Nullification this Congress,
arter all. You need '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 gettin
into trouble. But, says he, Major, aint 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 look among old papers
and get up a row in no time. The Gineral likes this a
leetle better that I do; for the most of the labor falls on
me, and the ony way I can git rid of it, is to make our
folks down stairs do it, if I see it gives any of 'em a
boost with his party—for I dont 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 shoe strings.

LETTER LXV.

From the Portland Courier of Saturday.

Washington City, Sept. 30, 1831.
To the editor of the Portland Courier away down east in the
state of Maine.

My dear Friend,—Have you n't been in a terrible
kind of a pucker ever since my last letter to you, to
know what the President was going to say about me
and Daniel? If you have n't, I have. I never felt so

uneasy for a fortnight hardly in my life. If I went to
bed I could n't sleep, and I've got up and walked the
floor as much as half the night almost every night since.
I've wished the Bank to Guinea more than fifty times,
for there's been such a hubbub here about the Bank this
fortnight past, that I could n't get a moment's chance
to talk with the President about any thing else. We'd
have cabinet meetings once in awhile to see about moving
the deposites, and Mr. Duane and Mr. Cass and
Mr. M`Lean would talk up to the President so
about it, that he'd conclude to let 'em alone and doo
nothing about it, and let Congress manage it jest as
they'd amind to. And then we'd go home and Mr.
Kendle would come in and talk the matter over, and
read some great long letters from Mr. Van Buren, and
get the President so confused that he would lose all
patience a most.

But Mr. Kendle is the master feller to hang on that
ever I see; he's equal to the tooth ache. And he talked
and palaver'd with the President till he finally brought
him over, and then the President put his foot down and
said the deposites should be moved whether or no. And
then the botheration was to see who should move 'em.
The President told Mr. Duane to do it; but he said
his conscience would n't him.—Then the President
told Mr. Taney to take Mr. Duane's place, and see if
his conscience would let 'em. Mr. Taney tried it and
found his conscience went easy enough, so Mr. Duane
packed up and went home to Philadelphia. We were
all dreadful sorry to lose Mr. Duane, for he was a nice
man as you would see one in a thousand. It's pity he
had such a stiff conscience; he might have staid here
in the Treasury just as well as not if it had n't been
for that.

But this storm about the Bank begins to blow over,
and the President's got in a manner cooled down again.
This morning after breakfast we took the papers and
letters jest as we used to, and went away into the east
room to read the news and chat awhile; and it really

did my heart good to see the President set down once
more looking so good natured in his great arm chair,
smoking his segar. After I had read over the news to
him awhile, and got him in pretty good humor, I made
bold to out with it, and says I, Gineral, there's one
question that I want to ask you. And says he, you
know, Major, I always allow you to ask me any thing
you're a mind to, what is it? Well, says I, when we
had that talk here about a fortnight ago, you began to
say something about me and Daniel; and jest as you
got into the middle of it, Mr. Kendle came in and broke
it right off short as a pipe stem. It's been running in
my head ever since, and I've been half crazy to know
what it was you was going to say. Well, let us see,
says the Gineral, where was it I left off; for this everlasting
fuss about the Bank has kept my head so full I
can't seem to remember much about it.

Why says I, was you talking about nullification;
how the tops were beat down a little, but the roots were
all running about under ground as live as ever, and it
wouldn't be long before they'd be sprouting up again
all over the country, and there'd be a tougher scrabble
to keep 'em down than ever there had been yet; and
then you said if I and Daniel — and there that
plaguy Kendle came in, I've no patience with him now
when I think of it, and broke it right off. Ah, now I
remember, says the Gineral, how 'twas. Well, says
he, Major Downing, it is a solemn fact, this country is
to see a blacker storm of nullification before many
years comes about, than ever it has yet; the clouds are
beginning to gather now; I've seen 'em rolling over
South Carolina, and hanging about Georgia, and edging
along into old Virginny, and I see the storm's a
gathering; it must come, and if there isn't somebody
at the helm that knows how to steer pretty well, the
old ship must go down. I aint afraid, says he, but
what I can keep her up while I have the command, but
I'm getting to be old and must give up soon, and
then what'll become of her, I don't know.—But what

I was going to say was this; I've been thinking if you
and Daniel, after I give up, would put your heads together
and take charge of her till the storm has blown
over, you might save her. And I dont know who else
can.

But how do you mean, Gineral, says I? Why to
speak plain, says he, if nullification shows its head, Daniel
must talk and you must fight. There's nothing else
will do the job for it that I know of. Daniel must go
into the Presidential chair, and you must take command
of the army, and then things will go straight. At this
I was a little struck up and I looked him right in the
eye, and says I, Gineral, do you mean that Daniel Webster
ought to be President after you give up? Certainly,
says he, if you want to keep the country out of
the jaws of nullification. But, says I Gineral, Daniel
is a federalist, a Hartford Convention federalist, and I
should like to know which is worst, the jaws of nullification,
or the jaws of federalism.—The jaws of a fiddle-stick!
says he; but how do you know, Major Downing,
that Daniel is a federalist? Because, says I. I've heard
him called so down east more than a hundred times,
over and over. And that's jest all you know about it,
says he. Now I tell you how 'tis, Major Downing,
Daniel is as thorough a republican as you be, or as I be,
and has been ever since my Proclamation came out
against the nullification.

As soon as that Proclamation came out Daniel came
right over on to the republican ground and took it upon
his shoulder and carried it through thick and thin where
no other man in the country would have carried it.
Says I, Gineral, is that a fact? And says he yes, you
may depend upon it, 'tis every word truth. Well says
I, that alters the case a little, and I'll write to Uncle
Joshua and the editor of the Portland Courier and see
what they think of it, and if they think it's best to have
Daniel for President we'll have him in, and I'll take
my turn afterwards: for seeing the people are bent upon
having me for President I wont decline, though if it

is thought best that I should wait a little while, I wont
be particular about that. I'm willing to do that which
will be best for the country.

LETTER LXVI.

My last letter tell'd you that the Message I
had been to work on for some time was jest finished—but
the very next day we had to take it all to
bits, and spring to and write enymost the hull of a new
one, for we found we had gone too much into particulars,
especially about the counts; and letters from Mr. Van
Buren, advised us to say as little about such matters as
possible, for Congress would only make us tell pretty
much the hull on't over agin—and the best way was to
say little at first, and trust to luck and chance afterwards.
As soon as the Gineral came to know of this,
says he, `Major you must look out and keep in that latin
about the Bank any how.' So we kept that in, but it
was plagy troublesome to make it work well with the
rest on't, for when you come to make English on't, it
reads that the Gineral would have taken the Bank by
the throat right off, if he thought he could make that
latin pill operate afore the charters expire—and then
agin he says the Bank does wrong in bringing its business
to a close so rapidly as it is now doing. There is one
thing however that's true enuf, for seein that Judge
Marshall is a stubborn know nothin kind of critur, and
would have a finger in givin the Bank that pill the Gineral
speaks of it in latin, I don't believe it would have
operated before the charter expired, if it had 40 years

more to run—so there is more wit and cunnin in what
the Gineral says than folks think for.

There was another thing puzzled us tu a trifle about
the Bank. Last year when we thought it had no rale
chink in it, the Gineral thought best to take the deposites
away from it, but since I tell'd the Gineral in my
Bank report there was more than a hundred cords of the
rale grit, we had to say in the Message they had too much

The post office accounts was the next bother; and
that puzzled all on us peskily. But we got round that
by very lucky discovery; and you see by the Message
there has been an error in keepin the counts in the post
office ever since General Washington's time, and every
post master Gineral, up to Major Barry's time, never
found it out; and it was so curious that he took nigh
upon five years to git at it. But its all clear now, for
he is an amazin shark fellow at siferin. We struck out
all about the grand tower, for Clay has been over the
same ground, and Mr. Van Buren thought it was best
to say nothin about it. And it was thought best too to
say nothin about the Nullifiers, for some of Mr. Van
Buren's friend's in Georgia headid by Crawford are gettin
up nullification there, worse than Calhoun's last
winter; and it maks all the difference in the world when
you come to see that ones own friends are doin what our
enemies did afore.

As soon as we sent the Message to Congress, we set
about gittin up a supper for all our folks who had been
to work out, and we had a grand time, all our Majors
was there. The Gineral was so beat out, he didn't
stay long; but some on 'em kept it up all nigh day light.

We had some rale good songs tu; and one of our
Majors is a plagy sharp singer. I got a copy of one on
'em; but I haint got time now to send you the hull on
on't, so I'll jest give you 3 verses only.

I wish you would tell folks to stop callin me Jack
Downing—twas well enuf when I wasnt quite as much
up in the world a I now be, and it was jest so with
Mr. Van Buren—folks would keep callin him “Mat;”
but it warnt right, and it aint good manners nuther.
And there is another thing I dont like; but I dont care
so much about it (for I aint asham'd of any letter I
ever did write) and that is printin in a Book all the
Letters I first writ, and mixing up other Letters and
Sam Patch, and callin some of my Letters to you counterfits.
As soon as I get the Gineral threw this Congress,
I'll turn tu and get my Letters all together that
I writ to you, beginnin with the grand tow'r. Major
Earl is drawn my likeness, and the Gineral's and Mr.
Van Buren's and the most of our folks for me. He is
a master hand at it; and Zekil Bigelow tells me if I'll
give him the copyright, he'll new shingle our old barn
for nothin. How comes on your book about the Hartford
convention? The Gineral wants you to send him

a copy on't as soon as it is done—he wants to see how
nigh Yankee Nullification comes to Nullification now-a-days.

LETTER LXVII.

We have got business enuf now on our hands, I tell
you; and nigh upon every day we have a squall that
brings all hands to the helm. We have had fair wind
so long, that few on us know exactly how to steer
now a days, when every wind comes right in our teeth.
I hain't had my coat off since congress met; and the
gineral says we must watch them fellows closely.
“Keep a sharp look out, Major,” says he, “on Clay—
he is a bold, independent fellow, and will speak out his
notions if the devil stands at the door; and if he had
the people with him,” says the gineral, “as I have, there
is no tellin what trouble he would give us; make as good
a gineral as ever was. But it will never do to trust
that man with power.” “Very well,” says I, “gineral—but
plague on't,” says I, “the critur some how
keeps law on his side all the while.” “That's true
enuf,” says the gineral, “and therefore we must keep
a sharper eye on him, and the time is come, now Major,

when we must all on us try our popularity—for
when the law is agin us, we shan't have nothin else to
stand on. There is nothin,” says the gineral, “like
war times, Major—for then, when those troublesome
fellows talk about law, I' give 'em Martial Law, and
that makes short work ont.”

Just ater breakfast yesterday, I and the gineral had
a high time together. I had been expectin every day
to see the bank come out with a reply; and I tell'd the
gineral, says I, `Gineral, I'm afraid we'll git a stumper
from Philadelphy one of these days, that will nock us
all into kindlin wood. But he kept sayin there was no
fear of that. `Why,' says he, `Major you forgit that
we first give the bank a most mortal weltin 3 years ago
and left em no other defence than to print reports, and
speeches; and that show'd they hadn't much spunk;
and we have been criplin on em ever since. And when
I see they began to stagger, I give em our hull battery,
and opened upon em in flank, front, and rear our sharp
shooters headed by that amazin cute little district attorney
open'd first on em. Then come my proclamation—and
then my message—and then Mr. Tany's
report—and the globe all the while throwin shells and
rockets. `Why' says the gineral—gittin up and taken
his hickory, and givin it a whack on the floor—`if the
bank stands all that racket, Major, its tuffer than a
pepperage log. “No, no Major,” says the gineral,
“don't you fear that the bank will ever say a word in
reply—it's as dead now,” says the gineral, “as a skin'd
racoon.” And the words want out of his mouth, afore
in come a hull bundle of letters and newspapers, and
the first thing I see among 'em was the “Bank reply.”
“Now,” says I, “gineral, here's trouble!—here's the
very thing,” says I, “I've been afraid of all the while.'
The gineral laft a spell; and says he, “Major, suppose
you and I now jist take a bout, and you'll see how easy
I can nock that reply into nothin.” “Well,” says I,
“Gineral,” its a bargain—“Now,” says I, let us sit
down, and you may take, says I, the globe or our district

attorney's report, or your proclamation, or your
message, or Mr. fany's report—ary one on em,—or,
says I, come to think on't, you may take 'em all together,—for
they are pretty much all one—and I'll take
this `Bank reply,' and then let's see what kind of a
fight it will turn out. `Well,' says the gineral, `you
are a man of spunk, Major, and I like you for it: if I
make a prisoner on you, I'll treat you like a brave soldier.'
`And so will I you, Gineral,' says I, `and if you
fall in the fight,' says I, `Gineral, I'll bury you,' says
I, with the honors of war, and then we shook hands.
Now, Major, says the gineral, as I am to begin the
fight, don't you fire till I fire, “and then we'll go threw,
shot by shot.”

Well, says I, “I want to know first, if I have a
right to fire back your shot, if they miss me, and I can
pick em up?” “O, yes,” says the gineral, “that's fair
in war. Use the enemy's shot and shells, and guns
too, if you can, Major—that's the true art of war.” The
gineral all the while kept fixing his papers all in a
string on one side the table. He put his own messages
and proclamation in the middle, and flank'd off with
our district attorney and Mr. Tany's reports; and then
he sifted the Globe about, and called them scouts and
foragers—“There,” says he, “Major, I am now nearly
ready; and he took off his specks, and gin em a
good rubbin, and put em on again. “Now, Major,”
says he, “take your station.” And I went round tother
side, and sat down. “Are you ready,” says the gineral?
“All ready,” says I—and at it we went. The
gineral, he open'd his fire first, as agreed, and he fir'd
away from his first message—And then his 2d—then
he took the Globe, and then the reports,—and he blaz'd
away like all wrath, for an hour; and as soon as he
stop'd to take breath. “Now,” says I, “its my time,”
—and I read the reply a spell, and answered all he said
in three minits. And I gin him a look! The gineral
twisted his face most shockin, and scratched his head
too. But he went at it agin as spunky as ever; for he

is an amazin tuff critur in a fight, and hangs on like a
snappin turtle when he gits hold. He banged away a
spell agin like all natur; and jest as he took his specs
off to give em a rub, I gin him the reply agin. The
gineral gin his face another plagy hard rumple; and I
sat waitin for him to fire agin. Says he, “Major, that's
a sharp piece you are firin with there.” “It's a peeler,”
says I, “Gineral, I tell you—but you haint got the best
on't yet—it's gettin warm,” says I.

“Major,” says the gineral, “suppose we change butteries—let
me take that reply, and you take all these
documents. I like to fight,” says the gineral, “when
there is ten to one agin me.” “So do I,” says I, “Gineral,
and so we'd better fight it out as we sit.”

The gineral looked a spell at his paper again; and
says he, “Major, I reckon we had better have a truce.”
“Not now,” says I, “I've got my hand in now, and
want to see the fight out.” “Well,” says the gineral,
“you see Major what comes when any one attempts to
drive the executive;” and with that he got up, and took
off his specks, and put em in his pocket, and put on his
hat, and took his hickory, and fetched a whack on the
table,—“Veto,” says he, “that's enuff,” says I,
“Gineral.”

`And now,' says the Gineral, let's go and take a
walk—and so we went. The Gineral didn't say nothin
for more than a mile, and I nother. `So, to rights,'
says he, `Major, every body says Money is very scarce.'
That's true enuf,' says I, `and it's not got as scarce
as it will be afore winter is over,'—and then I tell'd the
Gineral the cause on't. `Well,' says the Gineral, `I
believe you are right; and if the worst comes to the
worst,' says he, `we'll have a new bank, and that will
make money plenty agin, wont it?'—`Yes,' says I, `I
suppose so; but we can't git a new bank, Gineral, fore
this ones time is out, and that's nigh three years yet;
and long afore that time,' says I, `there will be trouble
enuf, as this one must all the while be collectin in its
own money; and folks will fail, and be bankrupt; and

then twenty new banks will do no good.' `I don't see
that,' says the Gineral. `If we could make a new bank
now,' says I, `right off, and let it take up the business
of the old one, it wouldn't make much odds. But the
law wont allow that, you know, Gineral.' And just then
the Gineral got in a way he has of twitchin with his
suspender buttons behind; and to rights he broke one
off.—`There,' says he, `Major, here is this confounded
button off again.' `Well,' says I, that's a small matter
—here is a tailor's shop,—let's go in and make him put
it on—and so in we went. The tailor happened to be
one of our party, and was tickled to death to see the
President, and thought he was goin to git an office right
off, and was plagily cut down when he come to find it
was ony a button off; and so he jumped back on his
board, and sat down on his heels agin, and said if the
Gineral would take off his pantaloons he'd put it on in
a few minutes.

I looked at the Gineral, and he looked at me—and
we both looked at the tailor. `Why,' says the Gineral,
`this is the worst thing, Major, I ever met—I'm stump'd
completely! It will never do to risk walking home with
this button off; for if 'tother one comes off, it's all over
with me; and I sit here without my pantaloons till that
fellow puts on a button, I'll kitch my death of cold!
look here Major, says the Gineral, that other button is
takin all the strain, and it will come off in less than five
minutes—what is to be done? It seems to me Major,
said the Gineral, `that no man is placed so often in such
real trouble as I am'—`yes,' says I, `Gineral, but its
fortunate for you, you always have me with you.' `I
know it. Major,' says he, `and I hope you will be as
true a friend now as ever you have been—and with that
says I to the tailor, 'can't you fix things now, so as to
get over all this trouble?' `There is only one way,'
says the tailor, `and that I've stated, and another thing,'
says he, `the Gineral wants a new pair.' `You rascal,'
says the Gineral, `you can't make a better pair, and one
that fits me better, if you try a month—these pantaloons,

said the Gineral, are better than a new pair; and
if they only had new buttons here they would last me
to my dying day.—It takes me weeks and months to
git a pair to sit easy. I wont have a new pair,' says
the Gineral, `that I'm determin'd on.' `I see,' says
the Gineral, `what you are after—you want a new
job.'

`Well,' says I, `Gineral, let me try—and with that
I wax'd a thread, and got a new button; and whilst the
Gineral stood up, I sot down behind him, and stitched
on the button in 3 minits—the Gineral all the while
shakin his hickory at the tailor, and tellin him that he
had no more brains in his head than he had in his thimble.
`You are a pretty fellow to belong to my party,'
says he; `I should have been soon in a pritty condition,
if I had taken your advice,' says the Gineral.' Let
me ever ketch you at the White House agin.' So to
rights, the tailor got mad too, and said he didn't belong
to the Gineral's party—he was a Tany-Kindle-VanBuren-Jackson-man;
he knew which side his bread was
butter'd, and I looked plagy knowin too—it was jest as
much as I could do to keep the Gineral from smashin
him—so says I, `come, Gineral, let's be movin; and
we went home—the Gineral all the while talkin about
his escape from an awful state, that tailor was about
getting him in.

`Well,' says I, `Gineral, little things sometimes give
us a kink, and a notion of bigger ones; and now,' says
I, `do you know, Gineral, we are in a scrape now pretty
much like that one we jest got out on.' `How so?' says
the Gineral. `Why,' says I, `the Bank—there it is,'
says I, `jest like your pantaloons, better than new;—
and only wants a new button; and some of these tailors
about us here want us to set shiverin and shakin, and
runnin the risk of gettin a rheumatiz that will last us
our lives, jest for them to get the job of makin a new
one.'

`And now,' says I, `I guess you and I had better
disappoint 'em, as we did the tailor jest now, stitch on

a new button, and things will all go smooth agin.'—
The Gineral didn't say a word; but he got thinkin
piagey hard, till we got home agin, and he got his pipe,
and I got mine, and just as we were lighten em, says
he, `Major, there are some fellows about us here that
pester me most desperately—we must all go as a `Unit,'
or I must blow 'em all up and get a new set. `W'ell
think of it,' said the Gineral, and with that, we cock'd
our feet on the mantle tree, and in less than five minits
you could'nt see no more on us than our toes.

LETTER LXVIII.

You know I've ben tellin you long about my fears of
many troubles—well it's bad enuf—and is goin to be
worse yet or I know nothin. And the Gineral is beginnin
to think so too. All our folks about us here dont
feel it for they have all got fat offices—but I know the
people feel it who haint got fat offices—and until they
will speak up, things will go worse and worse—every
letter I get is full of trouble and distress—and I tell'd
the Gineral tother day, says I, Gineral we must look
into this matter now I tell you—why says he Major the

government aint to blame—every man about me says it
aint his fault. Well, says I, some one did it I'm certain—things
went smooth enuf, says I, till we got dablin
and medlin in money matters and the Bank, and
now its all heads and points, and when we say it aint
our fault, says I, its pretty much like a man puttin a
pole over a fence on a swivel—and after pullin one end
round with a jerk, if he knocks over a dozen folks with
the other end says it aint his fault—now its pretty
much jist so with the Bank, says I, and if you can't see
it, all I can say is, I can.

Well Major, says the Gineral, something must be
done any how, for I begin to think that politics and
money matters dont always work together. I'll call
all our folks together, says the Gineral, and we'll have
a full cabinet and look into this matter, and do you
Major prepare yourself, for I'm goin to turn over a
new leaf, that I'm determined on—and with that he issued
orders for every man to be at the Cabinet Chamber
the next day just after breakfast—and I went to work
puttin down all my notions in writin, for I expected a
rough time and a pretty sharp set of fellows to beat off,
and thinks I as it is the fashion now-a-days to read papers
to the Cabinet, I'll give 'em one that will be worth
readin, and I guess it will be the last one that the Senate
will ask an official copy of in one while. It took
nigh upon all night to write it out—and I sprung to it,
for I think the time is come to let some folks see they
haint got a green horn to outwit when they try me.

And so the Gineral had 'em all up in the Cabinet
Chamber yesterday, and such an overhawlin. I never
see—I sat all the while with one foot on the table, whitlin
a piece of shingle—and the Gineral was walkin round
among 'em, tellin about the troubles in money all about
the country, and asking how we are to get out of the
scrape—I kept an eye on most all on 'em, and both ears
on pretty much the hull on 'em, and such a winzin and
tangle I never see since the day all Downingville cum
over to the Jackson side, and that was jist arter his

election—They thought I was determin'd the first go
off to say nothin—And to rights I heard one chap jist
behind me tell the Gineral “there was one Major in the
Cabinet who made pretty much all the trouble, and that
he was writin letters that went all the while agin the
rest on 'em—and if it warn't for him they could make
the people believe, just what they wanted—that it was
his fault that the Cabinet was obliged to shift their
ground about the Bank and cross tracks every day. If
it had 'nt been for him the deposites would have been
removed because there warn't no `Safety Fund' in the
Bank, and the People been contented—and if it warn'
for him the government could make the people believe
that Biddle was the sole cause of their bein no money
now-a-days,” and so on. I jest stop'd whitlin a minit
and cast my eye over my left sholder, and the fellow
dodg'd behind the Gineral in a flash, and when I look'd
round the ring I found pretty much the hull on em lookin
at me and there warn't a word said.

And to rights the Gineral he walk'd up to me and
stop'd right in front and look'd me strait in the face,
says he, Major you've hearn all that is said—and I
should like to know what you have to say in reply—
no man shall leave this room says the Gineral till this
trouble is cleared up—`Major' says the Gineral (and his
lip began to quiver I tell you) Major, says he, it would
take a good many men to convince me that you aint
what I have always found you—an honest man and
a true patriot—some folks about us have bin whisperin
in my ear for a long while that you aint what
I think you are—but Major says the Gineral—I am a
soldier and so are you—and we are now all face to face
—no more whisperin says the Gineral, and he gave his
hickory a whack on the floor and look'd round the hull
ring—The country is in a trouble says he, and the
time is come for every honest man to speak out—if
there is error let it be corrected—if there is trick we
must expose it—and now Major says the Gineral, do
you set still—and if any man has any thing to say agin

you let him speak out. When they are all done—you
can answer them—and with that the Gineral pull'd his
own chair up to the other side of the table and laid his
hickory and hat down before him, and all our folks began
to nock noses in little groups here and there, and
one 'em, no matter who, was as busy as a lap dog on a
tranin day, smelling round from one to another to find
the right man to speak first—but none on 'em seem'd
to like it.—The Gineral all the while sat blinkin and
lookin round at 'em all, and rumplin his face once and
a while most plagily.

So to rights, this one of 'em come forward and bow'd,
and says he, Gineral, that “our sufferings is intolerable,”
there is little doubt; and the question is not how
we got into our present condition, but how we can best
git out of it. I believe, says he, (turnin with a bow to
every body—for he is an amazin polite cratur,) that is
the true and only point now for discussing. “Not exactly,
says I, but no matter.” “Well, says he, as regards
the Major, far be it from me to make any charge
against him; he is decidedly the favorite of the people,
and should be the favorite of every man in office who
wishes to keep his office; but I would say, that I wish
the Major had a higher office. I wish he was an auditor
of accounts—or a receiver of public money—or a
minister abroad—or an Ingin agent, or any other office
in the government; but as he is now—there is no getting
hold of either end of him; we can't elevate him,
which I sincerely desire—we can't put him down,
which no man desires. There are things inall governments—and
in this in particular, that requires cookin
up before the should be served with it; but the Major
hands the dishes over to the people raw and uncook'd,
and lets every man dress his own dinner—this is not
right.

And then, again, he is an enemy to party, and thinks
that politicians shouldn't meddle in money matters,
when we all know that none of us would now be here
without office, and that office aint worth a fig without

money; and so it comes to this—we've got a party, and
a good strong one; and that party must keep all the
offices, and the control of all the money; for, without
money, the offices wont be good for nothin—and, without
offices the party will be all scattered: look at my
own state, see how things work there; and just so they
would hero. We must have the Bank—we can't do
anything without it. It is all good enough enough if
we could get Biddle and his friends out of it—but seein
we have tried that and can't succeed, this must go
down, and then we'll have a new one after our own
fashin—unfortunately, some will suffer—because this
one must, I suppose, collect its debts and wind up—
but what is the sufferings of a few in trade compar'd
to the breaking up of a political party, now all hitched
together, think of us all going back again to practice
law—and you, Mr. Auditor, to keeping a school—and
you, Mr. Secretary, to keeping a shop—and you to
ploughing—and you to plantin corn, and you to digging
potatoes—and you to printin newspapers.—“And you,
Major,” says he, “what would become of you?”

I began to crawl all over, and was just goin to say
something, but I thought I wouldn't tell he got through;
and he reeled it off for more than an hour pretty much
in the same way about things in general, and Major
Downing in particular—and as soon as he stopt, I got up
and says I, has any body got nothin more to say? No
one said a word. Says I, is all that is said put in
writin?—for then there will be no mistake; no turnin
corners; no dodgin afterwards. “O no,” says he,
“there is no necessity to put any thing in writin of this
nature—that ain't my way,” says he. “I have always
said I don't like to get into the newspapers.” “Well,”
says I, “that's just where we differ—what I'am goin
to say now, say I, is all in my pocket in black and
white—and with the Gineral's permission, says I, I'll
read it to the members of the Cabinet, and then I'll git
it printed, and then all on you can read it, and every
man shall have a copy on't except Clay and the rest of

the Senate—for tho' the law says they are a part of the
government, they ain't got no business with any paper
read to the Cabinet—ain't that law, says I, Gineral?”
The Gineral nodded his head, and that was enuf; and
says he, “Major, do you read that paper; I know you
well enuf to know it will be an honest view of things,
and I don't care whose toes you tread on. I have no
interest in these matters further than to do my duty—
if any fellows have misled me, I advise 'em to keep an
eye on my hickory.”

And then I took out my papers from my pocket and
went at it; and I did n't mince matters I tell you. The
Gineral sat restin his elbows on the table with his chin
in both hands and lookin straight in my face the hull
time, ony once in a while he'd take his hickory and
whack it on the table when any one muttered and whispered;
and as soon as I got to the end on't, then come
a buz and a maxin; and the Gineral got up and fetched
another whack on the table with his hickory, enuf to
loosen ones eye teeth.

Now, says the Gineral, I've hearn both sides, and
the people will shortly hear it too. If they say the
Major is right, I wont oppose them any longer; if they
say the Major is wrong, then we'll go on as we now
go; and now, says he, Major, git that paper printed,
and the only favor I ask of you is not to sent an official
copy out to the Senate if they ask one;—and with that,
I and the Gineral bowed off the Cabinet, and the Majors,
and the rest of the government; and we turned to
readin letters from all quarters, all full of money troubles
and distress, enuf to give one the cholera morbus;
for as I said afore one is just about as bad as t'other.

I'll send you to-morrow or next day, the paper I read
to the Cabinet, and the rest of the government, for you
to print. It's too long for this letter, and you can ask
Zekel Bigelow, if he haint stop'd payment, to pay for
the expense of printen on't, and tell him for me if his
head is above water, its more than can be said of most
folks—and he better hold on to all he's got, and ride

out the storm if he can. His last letters to me say
things are shockin bad in Wall street, but the worst
there aint as bad as things are away West and South,
and they will be worse yet, if the people don't decide
pretty soon, as the Gineral says, whether I am right or
wrong.—For its the people's business now, and the
Gineral is waiten for 'em.

LETTER LXIX.

MAJOR DOWNING'S OFFICIAL COMMUNICATION
TO THE CABINET.

Read to the Cobinet, and majors, auditors, and undersecretaries,
and sub-postmasters, and the rest of the
Government, on 26th day of December, A. D. 1833
—and printed for the use of all the citizens from
Downingville to New Orleans, along the sea coast,
and up the Missippi and Missouri, and so down the
Lakes, and across by the Erie Canal to Albany, and
along by the midde rout over New Jersey, Pensylvany,
and Maryland, to Washington—and away agin to
all parts of creation, and to every body.

Gineral—and Gentlemen of the Cabinet, and the
rest on you here present, composin the Government—
I speak to you as a man standin right between you and
the people—what I am goin to say aint calculated to
make any on you change your opinion, so much as to
make you know mine—you have pretty much all on you

had your turn, and now comes my turn—if any thing
I say has sharp corners and scrapes the skin a leetle,
it is because I haint had time to file the edges smooth.
I'll give you my notions pretty much as you ged bread
from the Bakers, and leave you to slice it or chunk it
as best suits you; and every man can butter his own
slice just to please his fancy—that aint my business so
much as it is hisn.

We are met here not only to fix on some plan to get
the country out of trouble, but to see how it got into
trouble; and I am goin to say a little on both pints.
When a chimbley smokes at the rong eend with the
wind at the north east, some folks may content themselves
with openin windows and doors, to let the smoke
out, but my notion is that the safest plan is to see into
the cause on't, and correct it—so that the chimbley
will only smoke at the right eend, let the wind blow
any way.

Now there is a few things we must look into a little,
and then we will know more about em, and I am goin
to examine—

What kind of a critur the bank of the United States
raly is.

Whether its nature is to do good or evil to the country,
and then wind up with

Matters and things in general.

Twenty years ago the country was in trouble, and
fill'd up with all kinds of bank paper—nigh upon as
bad as old Continental—and a good deal was a little
worse. If any body aint old enuf to remember that
time, and wants to see what kind of money I mean, let
him go to the Treasury, and Mr. Taney can show him
nigh a million and a half of dollars, not worth the cost
of the paper and ink used every year in makin a report
on't—but this is ony a drop compar'd to what would
be now there of the same kind of stuff if it had'nt been
for the Bank of the United States. All our wise
folks of that day said we must have a Bank of the United
States, and a good big one. One strong enuf to do the

work well, and to clear out all this trash—and so this
Bank was made, and the first thing was, as there was
a very little rale money in the country, the Bank, went
and bo't a good jag on't in Europe, and went to work
here clearin away jest as we do our fields in the
Spring.

It was a pretty dirty job to do so I tell you, and the
Bank did'nt get through with it without scratchin and
smuttin its fingers pretty considerable; and that warn't
the worst on't for the Bank. The Government made
the Bank agree to pay fifteen hundred thousand dollars
for the privilege of doing this work, and made it agree
to take care of the people's money in all parts of the
country, and to pay it here and there wherever the
Government told 'em to pay all the pensions, and to
do every thing in the money way without chargin any
thing for it to the Government. This was a pretty tuff
bargain for the Bank—for all it got in return was to
have the keepin of the money, and when the Government
did'nt want it the Bank might lend it out. It
took a good many years afore the Bank got things to
work smooth. It was like a whappin big waggon that
wanted a good many horses to drag it, and as it had a
valuable freight in it, it wanted none but the best kind
of horses—real Conestogas—and it warnt every one
who knew how to drive such a team. The owners of
this waggon found that out—for some of the first that
they got came plagy nigh oversetting it. So to rights
they got Squire Biddle. I suppose they thought that
seein that the folks in Pennsylvany have the best and
strongest horses and the biggest waggons, they ought
to know best how to guide 'em. Well, they made a
pretty good guess that time—for ever since they told
the Squire to take the lines, they haint lost a linchpin
or broke a strap; and there warnt no complaints made
agin him by the folks on the road, or the country.

All the other waggoners liked the Squire amazingly,
he was always ready to give 'em a lift when he found
them in the mud, and whenever they got short of provender,

the Squire never refused to turn out some of
his to keep their horses from suffering. Every thing
was goin on better and better, and every body said at
home and abroad there warnt such a team in all creation.
Well, about four years ago we began to pick a
quarrel with the Squire, and its been goin on every year
pretty much after this fashion. The first go off some
of our folks wanted the Squire to change some of his
leadin horses—they said the breed warnt right—he
ought to put on the lead some Albany trotters—that
they were the best horses on the lead he could have.
The Squire did'nt like to change----he said the horses
he had, knew the road as well as he did, and they
would'nt bolt nor kick up, and when they came to up
hill work he could depend on 'em.

Then again our folks wanted the Squire to change
harness—they said they had new patent collars, and a
horse could pull as much agin with 'em as with the
old fashion'd collars. Well the Squire didn't like that
notion nother. So to the rights they told the Squire
he must give up the lines—well that he wouldn't do he
said, without orders from the owners of the teams—
they had appointed him, and so long as they kept him
there, he would go along and do his duty, jest he had
done—and it warnt right to keep stoppin him everyday
on the road, and trying to make him try new plans.

And with that, all our folks made a regular battle on
the squire—some took away out of his waggon a part of
the bags and boxes, and divided it round among the
drivers of others waggons, who was mixin in the scuffle
too, and away they crack'd off with it. Some
undertook to cut the squire's traces, they thought they
was only leather and rope traces; but the squire was
too deep for 'em, for his traces was all chains kivered
with leather, and so they spilt their jack-nives. Some
went on a-head and rolled stones in the road, and dug
deep holes, and tried all they could to make the square
upset, and threw stones and mud at him and his horses,
but the squire kept on his horses didn't flinch, and as

they had drag'd the big waggon over worse roads in the
day, they went along without accident. Well now it
turns out that all the waggons that drove off so with a
part of the squire's load are in trouble, for the first
piece of muddy road, they all stuck fast, and there they
are now. One wants the other to give him a pull and a
lift; but they say they all want lifting—the squire has
just come up with 'em, and now they want him to hitch
on to 'em and drag 'em all out together; but he says
that's impossible, the most he can do is to take back the
load they took from his waggon, and then perhaps they
can git out of the mud; but it is more than his team
can do, and he wont run the risk of breakin his harness
or injure his horses to drag 'em all out together. Well
now that's just about the condition of things, and the
longer they remain so, the worse it will be—the longer
horses and waggons stand knee and hub deep in mud,
the less able they'll be to git out on't.

And I'll leave 'em there a spell, and we'll take a look
into the natur of the Bank, and what it really is, for
to hear some folks about it, one would think it was a
most shocking monster, and that it was pretty much
nothin else but squire Biddle, when it is no more the
squire than that big waggon is, not a grain more. Look
at this long list of names; well these are the owners of
the Bank—here we see in the first place the nation owns
one-fifth, and the rest is scattered round, as you see
here, among an everlastin batch of folks all about this
country, and some in forin countries; and I am glad
to see on the list here old widows and old men, and
trustees of children, who haint got no parents livin and
all our own people, they put their mony in the stock
of this Bank for his safe keeping—not to speculate—
and just so with the innocent foreigners, and the best
on't is they have paid our tolks a pretty high premium
for every dollar on't—well these are folks then that
compose the Bank.

Now what do they want this Bank managed?—the
business of the Bank is to loan money, and is jest for

all the world like any rich man whose business is to
loan out his money; is it his interest to dabble in politics
or to let politicians dabble with him? not an atom
on't. I never knew one of your rale politicians who
ever could pay his debts, and they aint the kind of folks,
people like to deal with any who may have got money
to loan; they know that talking politics, and gettin
things into snarls jest to answer party purposes aint the
way to pay interest nor principal nother, and politicians
in a Bank are the worst folks in the world for
the owners of the Bank, for the most on 'em haint got
mony of their own to lend, but they are plagy ready to
loan other folks' money to brother politicians of the
same party.

No no, a man who has got his mony loan'd out (and
its jest so with a Bank) want to see every body busy
and industrious and mind their business and increase
their property, for then they will be able to pay interest
and principal too; they dont like to see things all
mixed up with politics and people quarrellin and disputin,
and when they do, they git the money back in
their pockets agin as soon as they can, for they know
that politics aint profitable business.

Then it comes to this, that if the Bank is what I have
said it is (and its nothin else,) it aint such a monster
as some folks try to make us think it is, instead of
being a dangerous monster. I see and I know every
body else must see, who dont squint at it, but looks it
strait in the face; that its natur is jest like the natur of
any man who has got property in the country, and that
is to have every thing go on in harmony and with industry
and honesty and accordin to law; no jangles
and tangles and talkin politics in porter houses and bar
rooms, hurrain for this man, and pulling down that
man; that kind of work dont clear up new lands nor
plough up old ones, it dont keep the hammer goin, and
the wheels turnin; and dont pay interest nor principal
nother.

But some on you say the bank has too much power,
and that Squire Biddle might do a good deal of mischief
if he would. Well, there is my old friend. Capt.
Elihu S. Bunker, of the steam-boat President, runnin
betwixt New York and Providence—he's got about sich
another monster—there is no tellin what a “dangerous
monopoly” of power that crittur got in that are boat.
I was lookin into it when I came on with him a spell
ago, and he was showin me how he managed it. If he
was to fasten down the kivers of them two mortal big
copper kettles he has got in his boat, and blow his bellesses
a spell, he would smash every thing for more
than 50 acres round—Does any body want to know
why he don't do it—he has been in a steam-boat as
long now as the bank's been goin and haint scalded no
body—but he can do it in a minit if he chuses—well I'll
tell you why he don't—it aint his interest and he don't
own no more of the boat than Squire Biddle does of the
bank—the owners of the boat employ him to manage it
because they know he understands his business. He
knows if he didn't watch over their interest they'd turn
him out—and jist so the owners of the bank would sarve
Squire Biddle. And that aint all, Captain Bunker
knows if he hurts any body with his boat he'd run a
chance of hurtin himself too—he knows too that it is the
interest of his owners not to have any accidents aboard
any boat—for if people git scalded in one steam boat,
they'll keep clear of all on 'em—and though some folks
think banks aint like steam boats I can tell 'em that in
the main thing they are exactly alike—for unless folks
have got confidence in 'em and feel safe in 'em they aint
worth ownin—but when they all go on and meet no accidents,
they are pirty good property—and the largest,
and strongest, and cleanest, and quietest, and best
managed git the most business. Now I think that's
enuf about dangerous monopolies for a spell.

Let us now see what the bank is about, and what we
've been about.

Deacon Goodenou—Has been in that bank as one of

its directors off and on ever since it was a bank, and I
have heard him say 50 times, (and he's a man to be depended
on) he never heard a word about politics in it
till about 4 years ago---and it all came from our sendin
every year since that time, some rale politicians to help
the other 20 directors to manage the bank---the first go
off, the deacon says, they thought best to keep quiet,
and make no stir about it; for it was pretty much like
finding skunks in the cellar---the best way was to let
'em alone, if they'd keep there, and run the chance of
their goin out when they found there warn't no eggs to
suck---but when they undertook to cum up chamber
and smell about in all the cupboards, it was time to
snub 'em---and then came trouble; and that's jist about
the way now; and the deacon says, and he is about
right, that politicians in a bank are jist as bad as
skunks in the cellar---there aint one grain of difference.

Some on you say we dont want a bank now---well
that may be so---but when I got up this mornin it was
plagy chilly till I got my coat on---now I am warm and
it may be I dont need a coat---but I think if I take my
coat off I'll feel chilly agin---and I am so certing of this
I wont make a trial ont.

Some on you say the owners of this bank haint got
no right to a recharter---they have had it long enuf--
and its time now to have a new shuffle and cut---well
that aint my notion and I'll tell you why---tho' this
bank was chartered for twenty years---it had a good
right to believe we would renew its charter if it be
haved well and did as duty---jist as a congressman has
a right to expect his constituents will send him to congress
agin if he behaves well---and its a good way to-keep
folks strait and make em do their duty---but if we
are to knock this bank down and have a new shuffle
and cut, then I say that them folks who make money
out of a rise of stock in the new bank, ought to pay the
loss that all these old folks and young children will suffer
by nocking down the old bank---to say nothin about
the innocent foreigners who put their money in this

bank; thinkin it was safe. And let me tell you another
thing---the longer a bank stands, and the older it
gits, the better folks abroad and at home like it---people
who have got money to lend don't like changes---
and particularly government changes. Would any on
you like to lend folks money in South America? and
do you think any of them governments could make a
bank that folks would have any confidence in? I dont
think they could---jist because they keep choppin and
changin every year.

Will any on you say that it aint a good thing for a
country to make folks all about think it is a safe one to
lend mony to? aint good credit worth nothin?

Well, how does any man in trade git credit, and
make folks think him safe to trust? Will he break up
his stand every year, and change his business, and try
new plans? I say that aint the way, and no man ever
prospered after that fashion; but when he finds things
go well with him, he hang on; or else he haint got no
wit in him.

Now, my notion is, that none on us alone can make
folks all about creation think we are safe folks to trust.
But all on us together can do so; and that is the reason
a good big bank can manage this for us. Folks
abroad know the bank; and the bank know us; and
so we can manage things through the bank better than
we can alone.

Some on you say it aint right to pay interest to foreigners---that
when we git money from foreigners, they
keep drainin us of interest. Well, that is all chalk and
water. Now I know we have got an everlastin new
country to clear up yet; and if an honest industrious
man can git a few hundred dollars lent to him, he can
go and buy a good many acres, and clear it up, and
sell it to these very foreigners, who are all the while
coming out here to settle among us, and they pay fifty
times more for it than the land first cost; and so our
folks go on borrowin, and can well afford to pay interest,
and find themselves in a few years with money to

lend too. And as long as this business goes on, I for
one am willing to say to foreigners, as the Cape Cod
fisherman says to the fish, when he gets on the hook.
and is pullin him in---“So long as you hold on one
eend, I will t'other.” But folks abroad who have money
to lend, don't know our folks who go on new land:
and a good many on old land nother. But they know
our bank, and our canals, and rail-roads, and we sell
'em the stock, and make 'em pay good premiums too:
and our folks can lend their money to our farmers.

But if we go on, and nock down this bank when its
charter is out, and bring trouble on the country, foreigners
say, “Aha! there's trouble there!”---back they
come with their stock, and git their mony, and keep
it; and all our prosperity is nock'd in the head!
We charter'd this bank for 20 years; and so we do
canal companies, and rail-road companies; but did
we mean when the time was up, to nock 'em all up
too, and say we don't want no bank, nor a canal,
nor a rail-road? It aint common honesty to say so;
and I won't shuffle and cut with you after that fashion;
for make what I might by a new shuffle, I
would be asham'd to look one of these innocent foreigners
in the face---to say nothin of this long list
of widows, and orfans, and trustees of estates, and
old folks, many on em, when they bought the stock at
a high premium, I suppose never thought about the
charter, or how long it had to run but trusted to the
government. And now if you can chizzle them out of
their property, as you will by puttin down this bank,
jest to git a new shuffle and cut at a new one---without
turnin as red as a beet when you meet em, I for one
say I can't, and I won't.

And now I'm most done---if I have trod on any one's
toes, it aint so much my fault as hisen; for I tread the
the strait line, and tread ony on toes that stick out beyond
the line, and that's too often the case with folks
now-a-days in offices.

I've telled you now pretty much my notions; and

I tell you for the last time you have made a mistake,
and that's no disgrace to any man unless he tries to
stick to it after he knows he has made it. If you
don't know how to git the country out of the scrape
you've got it in, the people will tell you pretty quick, or
I aint no hand at guessin. I have now done my daty.
If the people don't do theirn it aint my fault. If they
say my notions are right they 'll act on em; if they say
they are wrong, then things will go on as they now go,
and I hope they won't git worse---but that I wont promise.
If things come to the worst, I shall suffer as
little as any on em, for I haint got no wife and children
to support (and I am sorry for those who have, if
things are to go as they now go,) I can cut my fodder
pretty much any where.

But I love my country, every acre on't, and it goes
agin my grain to see any part on't suffer. And I know
all this suffering comes from party polities---this same
party politics that has driv all our wisest and best men
out of office; and now to keep together wants to get
hold of the big wagon and all the money in it.

My dander is up, and I best stop now---for the more
I think on't, and the more I write about it, the more
wrathy I git. So no more at present,

LETTER LXX.

The pill I give the Cabinet, and the rest of the Government
here on the 27th of last month, is jist beginnin
to operate, and I dont think some on 'em will want
any more fisik for a good spell to come. Some of our
folks make plagy ugly faces at me, but I told 'em that's
a sure sign they want fisik, and they'd feel better to
rights. It was well I stop'd jist where I did in that
Cabinet paper, for my dander was jist liftin; and if I
had gone on ten minits longer, I'd hit some on 'em
so hard they would'nt swell.

But that aint what I want to write you about now.
I want to thank them folks up in Carthage, in York
State for the ax they made for me, and which they sent
to you to send to me. I have jist got it, and it
has tickled me eny most to death. I never got such
a present afore in my born days. I started right up
chamber with it to the Gineral, and bolted strait into
the Cabinet room with my ax on my shoulder—the Gineral
was there with pretty much all our folks overhauling
the Post Office accounts, and tryin to git them
straite, which is a plagy tuf job; but no matter: in I
smash'd but afore I could git out one word, I never see
such a scamperin. I turned to head some on 'em, jist
to tell em what I was arter, but it seemed the more I
tried, the more they tried to streak it, and in less than
one minit there warnt a livin criter left but I and the
Gineral; and the Gineral some how got a notion in his

head, and would a gone too, if there warnt no pluck in
him. He was standin up with his back agin the mantil
tree, and his hickory in his hand, and look'd for all
the world as tho' he was jist expecting a fight.

Why, says I. Gineral, what on earth is all this scampering
for? Well, says he, I reckon you can tell better
than I can; and with that, he blink'd at me most
plagily; and says he, what is the news now? Why,
says I, there aint nothin new but this ere ax, and
I brought it to show you; its a present to me, says I
from Starks & Co., away up in York State, on the
Black River. The Gineral changed face in a minit,
and it was jist like the sun risin. He step'd up to me
and took the ax, and walk'd to his chair, and sat down,
and throw'd his head back, and ha haw'd right out. It
does me good, in these times to see the Gineral tickled
at any thing. As soon as the Gineral could say any
thing,—says he Major call back Tany and Barry and
Amos, and haw, haw, haw, says the Gineral; and jist
then, I got the notion why they all scampered off so;
and sot down right in front of the Gineral, and we haw
hawd'd I tell you, for more than half an hour.

And so to rights, we got talkin agin, and the Gineral
he wiped his eye, and blew his nose jist for all the
world as tho' he had been cryin; and says he, Major,
it aint strange they was a leetle afeard of you, for do
you know jist as you come in, some on 'em was sayin
about the plagy Post Office accounts. If they did'nt
git em strait pretty soon, you would git at 'em and
chop em all up into mince meat; and jist then sure enuf
in you come, and then haw, haw, haw, says the Gineral
agin. Well, says he, Major, I'm glad that people
about are beginnin to look at you pretty much as I do.
I knew, says he, the time would come when they would
say I knew what was what when I got you to be with
me; and says he Major, let's look at this ax, and the
Gineral he rubb'd his specs; well says he, this is a
splitter aint it; why, says he, if a man only got lathered
he could shave himself without a barber, for

for this ax is as bright as a looking glass and sharp as
a razor; and here is the maker's name too: “Starks
& Co.' Carthage, New York” I do wonder now, says
the Gineral, if that aint the same “Stark” who lick'd
the British at Benington a spell ago?” “I aint certin,”
says I. “Well, nor I nother,” says the Gineral,
for do you know Major I have been in so many
wars myself, that I some times mix em up, and I have
now got so much to attend to here, that I am bother'd
about names and places and times, most plagily. Now
there is our little district attorney, our folks telled me
when I appointed him a Bank Director that he was jist
the kind of man we wanted “to ride Biddle” and upset
him; and when they tell'd of “ridin” “upsettin,
and mentioned his name, I got a notion in my head that
I can't get out yet, that he may be the same man I've
heard tell on, who took a ride once, and then wrote a
long account on't in poetry. Well, says I, I'm not
certain of that nother; but I've got a notion that the man
you mean was John Gilpin. “That's the same man,
aint it,” says the Gineral. No, says I, I guess it aint,
for he lived in London. “O, that makes no odds,”
says he Gineral; “for they used to call Philadelphia
the London of America.” Well says I, then it must
be the same, and if he's got on the squire to ride him,
I guess it will turn out pretty much such another ride;
for, says I, the squire is a pretty good horse for a tight
pull; but I don't think he'd stand easy under a saddle;
it aint the natur of that breed.

Well Major, says the Gineral, we must thank those
folks for the ax any how, and as soon as the Senate pass,
upon that message we sent em t'other day about other
presents, you can have the ax. Very well, says I, Gineral,
and if Congress dont pass upon something else,
says I, so as to git things as leetle better in the money
way, I'll want the ax, for we shall all come to choppin
agin for a livin.

I want you to send a printed copy of that letter to the
makers of that ax, and when you git all my letters to

you printed in a book send em one of the books with
my thank, for the ax.

LETTER LXXI.

Ever since I and the Gineral settled the Post Office
accounts, as I tell'd you in my last, by charging the
amount that Major Barry is astern, to “Glory” and
“Reform,” the Gineral has been more easy about it
than I am afeard other folks be, especially some of
the opposition folks in Congress; they keep smellin
round—and unless we can git up another nullification
there will be trouble, not only about the Post Office,
but some other branches of the Department.

Congress keeps hammering away yet about the deposits,
and the Gineral was gist agoin to give up, when
we got the news from Albany of the vote of the Legislatur
there in favor of the Gineral in taking away the
deposits from the United States Bank, and the vote of
the New Jersey Legislatur, and strong news too that
some other Legislaturs wo'd do the same. The Gineral
was amazingly tickled, and says he, Major, I reckon
your notion that the people wornt with us on that
pint is a mistake, and now says the Gineral, I'll hang
on and keep the deposits, and Biddle may whistle for
'em. “Well,” says I, “Gineral we'll see, and as I

said afore, if the people don't tell the Legislaturs another
story, and Congress too, afore we are a month
older, then,” says I, “I know nothing on em. “Very
well, Major,” says the Gineral, “we'll see”—and jest
then in come Amos and the Globe man, and some more
of our folks, and lookin pretty streaked too, and I got
a notion right off there was somethin stirrin—and os
they began to tell the Gineral and Biddle was to work
bribin all the people he could to sign petitions to Congress,
asking to put back in the Bank all the deposits
agin, and to recharter the Bank. “Why,” says the
Gineral, “aint that too bad, — Major we must give
the Back, sayshe, that Latin pill, there is nothin will
stop em but that skiry factus” (or some sich a name
the Gineral calls it.) Now, says I, Gineral, stop a bit,
says I--there is one thing puzzles me considerable
about this bribin business—I should like to know who
they be who are takin bribes—it aint the nature of
things, says I, for Squire Biddle to bribe the friends of
the Bank, for that would be useless—then, says I, it
must be that he is bribin the enemies of the Bank, and
that's our party. Now, says I will you set by and hear
folks say, that our party is such a scabby set of fellows
as to take bribes—if you do, says I, I wont, and
with that I riz up, but before I could round the corner
of the table I and the Gineral was alone agin. I sat
down and said nothin—I gritted my teeth a spell, but
that didn't do much good—I took my knife and whittled
the table. but that warnt much better, and the ony
way to rights that put me in a good temper agin, was to
whistle more than 40 verses of Yankee Doodle, for I
didn't like to say a word to the Gineral whilst I was in
a pashin. The Gineral was all the while walkin up
and down the room—so as soon as I got through whistlin,
says I Gineral, I guess we best say nothin more
about bribin, says I; well, says he, Major, I reckon
you are riget, for the notion never struck me afore that
that kinder talk hits right upon the heads of our friends,
for they are the only ones that needs bribin. Now, says
I, Gineral, jest lets you and I sit down and talk over
this business, and I'll tell you, like a true friend, how
the cat is goin to jump, and if it don't turn out as I
tell you, I'll give you my ax, and throw in my regimentals
in the bargain; and so the Gineral he sot down,
and I went at it.

In the first place, says I, if I git in a pashin, you
must keep cool—and if you git in a pashin I'll keep
cool, but if we both git in a pashin, then there's no tellin.
Well, says the Gineral, that's a good notion, Major,
for that's jest the way the Ingins do, and they
learn wisdom from natur; you never see an Ingin and
his squaw git drunk together—when one gits drunk tother
keeps sober, and so they take turn and turn about.
Well says I, I never heard that afore, but I suppose
tho' they git along better when they are both sober. O
yes, says the Gineral, in war time that is best, but not
in treaty time. Well, says I, that's matter, that aint
exactly what I am arter, but I've got a notion out on't
which I'll begin with. Some years ago the Yankees
got drunk and got up a kinder nullification; there
warnt much in it arter all, according to my old friend
Dwight's book—but folks South thought there was,
and so they kept sober; and last year the South got
drunk, and then all North kept sober, and that frolic
is ended. Now, says I, North and South and East
and West are all sober, and all shaken hands, and they
say we have all been takin a drop too much—there aint
no nullification no where in particular, but its all nullification
all about us, and all hands are formin a ring
and closin in upon us here, pretty much like a wolf
hunt—they all say we have taken the money that belongs
to the people, and the people wont be content
till we give it up—that's pretty much the nub of the
business—and we shall have petitions and memorials
from all quarters tumble in upon us, and if we don't
mind them, they will be follow'd by hard nocks, jest
like the story in the Spellin Book about the old man
drivin the boys from the apple tree—he throw'd grass

first, and that doing no good, he tried stones, and
that brought em down pritty quick.

The Gineral he began to git in a pashin—and says he
Major I'm gittin mad. Very well says I Gineral I'll
keep cool accordin to agreement; and with that the
Gineral slatted round a spell with his hickory, and
talked about New Orleans—and Siminoli---and the
Grand tower---and I set whistling all the while---“why
Major, says the Gineral, I'll never give up the deposites
in the world”---“what” says I, “not if the people
say we was wrong in takin em? Suppose the people
say the laws are agin us, what then?”---“Well says
the Gineral I've tell'd em that the Laws are only jest
as I understand em and nothing else.” Now says I,
Gineral, suppose Clay, or Calhoun, or Webster, was
in your office and said so---and you was in Congress, or
was of the people and didn't agree with em---how then
says I? O, says the Gineral, that's a very different thing;
any one of them fellows would be dangerous to trust
with any kind of power. Well says I my notion is,
however, that the law don't mean to trust nobody---
and as I am peskily afeard one or tother on'em will git
in here arter we go to the Hermitage---I don't want to
have any thing done now by us that they will do, and
then tell us they ony do what we did. That's the only
thing that puzzles me---for says I, Gineral, sass for the
goose ought to be sass for the gander too.

Well, says the Gineral, there is something in that
Major---but says he, I cant give up the Deposits any
how; Amos says we must hold on to 'em, and all our
folks say so too. Yes, says I, Gineral, its true enuff
the hounds have got the stag down, and got a taste on
him afore the hunters come up, and I suppose there
will be leetle left but the horns and trotters: but, says
I, it aint right, and the people will tell us so you may
depend: and all I have to say is, if what we have done
is to be the rule hereafter, I dont know but I should
like to be President myself: for folks might make laws,
and all I'd have to do would be to understand 'em according
to my notion.

I dont see Major, says the Gineral, how it is you git
sich odd notions about public sentiment. I know I
cant be mistaken, for every letter I have time to read
tells me I am right; and I read the Globe from one eend
to tother every day, and that paper tells every thing,
and I see nothin there that tells me I am rong.----Well,
says I, Gineral you know you haint got time to read
more than one letter in a nundred that comes. That's
true enuf, says the Gineral, but then our folks do, and
they tell me every thing. Tell you every thing? says
I,---but no matter?---and so I whistled Yankee Doodle
a spell. “No, No, Major, says the Gineral, the opposition
folks throw dust in your eyes, you cant see
things as clear as the rest of our folks about us.” I jest
was goin to speak, but findin my dander was liftin, I
had to go to whistlin agin, and it took me nigh upon 15
minits to git right, and I expected evry minit, I would
have to git my ax and split hickory a spell in the bargain.
Now, says I Gineral, you are the only man on
earth I'd look at a minit, and let him say so to me. I
got dust in my eyes, says I? I dont know what is goin
on in doors and out of doors? Why says I, how you
talk. Now says I, you jist sit still a minit and I'll
show you something says I worth lookin into---and I
went into a room where Mr. Van Buren and Amos and
some of our folks git together every once and a while, to
manage and talk over matters, and I've seen so much
of the games play'd there, and beln naturally curious
in most matters, I can play some on 'em nigh upon as
slick as Mr. Van Buren himself----but he is master hand
at it.---The game they had been playin most at lafterly,
was about managin the public money among the new
Deposit Banks, and showin how to use the “transfer
checks” and “contingent drafts” so as to puzzle folks
in time of need. It was done with a parcel of cups
and balls, and little strips of paper—and did tickle me
amazingly; and for a spell puzzled me tu---and so I
thought I'd jist show the Gineral and see if it would'nt
tickle and puzzle him tu. And I thought I'd let the

Gineral see if there warn't a leetle dust in his eyes to
And so I brought in a whole arm full of this machinery.
And as soon as the Gineral saw me, says he Major
what on earth have you got there.---Why, says I, its a
trifle, and I'll tell you all about it to rights. And so I
placed the cups bottom up, all along in a row on the
table, and then I gin the Gineral a hand full of small
balls. Now says I, I'm goin to show you about as cute
a thing as you've seen in many a day---them cups we'll
call banks, and them balls is the money we took from
Squire Biddle's Bank, the next thing is to show you
how things are goin to work, now that we've got our
money from one pocket, where we always know'd where
to find it, and divided it round among twenty pockets,
where may-be you may, or may-be you may not find
nothin at all on't-- and here says I are some leetle
pieces of paper that I'm goin to make use on to throw
dust with---now says I Gineral, look sharp or you're
gone hook and line says I. Its a plagy cunnin game,
and I don't know sartin that I can play it as well as
Mr. Van Buren and Amos and some more of them are
folks, and 'specially the Treasury folks, for they have
been at it now off and on ever sense I've been here---
and Mr. Van Buren tell'd em unless they could play
at this game well, there was no use in takin away the
deposits. Now says I Gineral I'll begin---you are sartin
says I there is a ball under every cup.---O yes says
the Gineral, for I jest put em there, and then begun
sliden the cups by each other, and mixin on em, and
kept talkin about Glory and Reform---and the 8th 'o
Jinnewerry, and the Proclamation, and Veto, and
Nul lification, and some folks ben like Old Romans
born to Command! and others to obey, and so on, and
jest as the Gineral took his eye off the cups and look'd
at me, an was goin to say somthin, I slap'd som cups
together and call'd out hocuspocus, allicumpain, presto!
e pluritus unum, sine qua non, skiry factions, says I---
there says I Gineral that's the eend on't. Well says
the Gineral I dont see much in that Major---didn't you
says I? then so much the better for the game. I suppose
then says I you think the balls are under the cups,
and jest as you put them. To be sure I do, says the
Gineral, I suspected what you was ater Major, and I
kept my eye on the cups; and no balls ever get from
under 'em without me seein 'em I'd stake my life on't
says the Gineral; and whats more I'll stake the fastest
horse in my stable, that every one of the cups has got a
ball under 'em. Well says I, Gineral, it wouldn't be
fare bettin, and so do you go to work and look. And
the Gineral he lifted up the cup, and there warn't nothin
under it but a piece of paper. The Gineral, he
was stump'd, he look'd at me and gin his face a twist,
and then he look'd in the cup and shook it. Well,
says he Major, that is plagy odd, what has become of
that ball? Well, says I, I guess the paper will tell you;
and the Gineral took up that, and rub'd his specks and
lead, “Transfer draft No. 101.” Well then I suppose,
says the Gineral, its all right---(for he had jist
begun to take the notion of the game) and insted of one
ball in the next cup there is two balls.”---“I'm not sartin,
says I, and you better look. And so the Gineral lifted
the next cup---and there warnt no balls there nother---
ony another piece of paper. The Gineral look'd a
spell at me, and opened his mouth, and then he scratched
his head, and took off his speaks, and rub'd them agin,
and then he read the paper. On one side was, “Contingent
check $500,000—and on tother side was written
“Marquess of Carmarthen,” $250,000-6 per ct.—
“Post office loans,” and all kiver'd up with figures so
you could not see a bit of “White” on the paper---the
Gineral, he blink'd at it a spell; and says he, Major,
what does this mean; well, says I. Gineral, I dont
exactly know myself but I suppose its all right, for I
see here on one corner “Amos Kindle”---“O very well,
says the Gineral, if that paper has past under the eye
of `honest Amos'---my life on't its all right. But, Major,
where is the ball I put under that cup, says the
Gineral---aint it under one of these cups? Not as I
knows on, says I---and with that the Gineral he turned
to agin, liftin the cups and shakin on 'em and lookin
into 'em, and there warnt under any one on 'em; only
---ony pieces of paper all full of figures, and some on
'em marked “Transfer Checks,” and “Contingent
Drafts,” and “Treasury Warrants,”---the Gineral hussled
em about to see if he could find any of them balls
among em---and examined all the cups agin, and he
looked under the tables---so to rights, says he, Major,
I'm stump'd---I nock under---I'm clean beat, says the
Gineral; and now, says he, where are the balls---and
with that I put my hand in my pocket, and took em out
---well, says the Gineral, that beats all the rest. Now,
says the Gineral, what game is this, aint this nickremancy?
Well says I, Gineral, my notion is its pretty
nigh that, but Mr. Van Buren says there aint a bit of
nickremancy in it---it's ony financery, but I suppose it's
a leetle of both on em.---Well, says the Gineral, its a
plagy cunnin game, Major, aint it? O, says I, its nothin
as I play it here---you should see Van Buren at one eend
of a table, and honest Amos at tother, and some of the
folks from York State with the “Safety Funds cups” too,
strung around the table, and all on em understandin
the game nigh upon as well as Mr. Van Buren, and then
they bring in the “party cups” too---and such a movin
and hocuspocus work, I never see afore in my born days
---in lookin sometimes I would'nt bet I had a head on
my shoulders---it beats all natur says I.

Now Major, says the gineral, suppose you try it agin,
and so as I got my hand in, I played it over 2 or 3 times a
leetle better, and the gineral couldn't see the trick no
way—for when I'd find him watchin plagy close, I'd
spread the cups as far as I could reach, and talked about
“Glory” like all rath, and tell about the people's beginnin
to think that some folks was outwittin the gineral,
and that congress wouldn't go home afore they git all the
public counts sifted, and the people's money back agin
under their control, and the gineral couldn't no way keep
his eye on all the cups at once, I'd hocus pocus agin. The

gineral couldn't see into it, and he rub'd his specks more
than twenty times, but that didn't get the dust out of his
eyes, and then I turn'd to and explain'd all I know'd
about it to the gineral, and he tried it, and after a good
many slips---pretty much as Major Barry did when he
tried it---he got along pretty well considerin. Now, Major,
says the gineral, suppose we try it with one cup, and
put all the balls under it, and see how the game works
that way. I think says the gineral, if you can outwit me
then, I may as well quit. Well, says I, gineral that was
jest my notion too; and I tell'd our folks, and offer'd to
bet any on 'em they couldn't git a piece of paper in the
place on't, without my seein it if they ony us'd one cup,
and not one on 'em would take me up---and I've tried it,
but it won't work with one cup---you must have a good
string on 'em. Some of our folks said they could fix a
cup so as to play the game with it---but they couldnt
with a plain single cup---and seein that I stump'd 'em
about the single cup, they are at work now in all parts
of the country inventin a cup with springs, and screws,
and slides, and holes inside on't. Well major, says
the gineral, I don't like to have dust throw'd in my
eyes, and I never did like this kind of hocus pocus
work, I never understand it; and I don't like this
kind of nickermancy, or financy---and it aint to
my fancy at any rate, Major, and it shan't be,
that I'm determin'd upon; and jest then in come a hull
raft of our folks from Congress, to tell the Gineral what
was goin on there; and as I had this letter to write
to you I went into the next room, and whilst I was
writin it, I'd hear the Gineral once in a while stormin
away about that plagy game of “financy” and “nickremancy”
“There won't be a dollar left,” says the
Gineral, “to pay the old sogers their pensions, if we
don't put a stop to this game,” and then they all got
to blusterin, “and we must,” and “we musn'nt do this
and that.” Oho, thinks I, when folks talk of we its
time for me to take a hand; and jist as I was goin to
to start, I heard the Gineral roar out for me, and not
knowing what was comin I jist grab'd my ax, and was
alongside of him in a flash; and would you think it?
there was more than fifty fellows of our folks, and some
on 'em from Congress too, all standing round in a ring,
brow beating the Gineral, and tellin him not to do this,
and not to do that, and by no means not to break their
cups; for, it seems. the Gineral had jist threatened to
smash 'em; and sure enuf, as soon as he saw me he let
drive at 'em with his hickory, and he sent the cups
and balls into more than a thousand bits. “Stand by
Major” says the Gineral; never you fear me Gineral,
says I; but afore I had time to spit in my hands, the Gineral
finished the war; there warn a critter left. And
ever sense, the Gineral has been blowin off steam; and
he haint said a word to me about havin dust in my
eyes, and I begin to think the Gineral finds he has had
as much in his'n as most folks, and so that's all for the
present; only I'll jist tell you its no use for any one to
attempt now to deceive the Gineral with new plans, and
a new bank; we'll have the one we've got made a little
bigger, pritty much arter Mr. Webster's fashion,
and that meets my notion, because the country is bigger
than it was 20 years ago; and there musn't be no nickremancy
about it. The Gineral says there must be ony
a plain cup, and balls in it; then there will be no hocus
pocus without seein the trick out. So no more at
present.