40. LETTER XL.
MAJOR DOWNING SHAKES HANDS FOR THE PRESIDENT AT PHILADELPHIA,
WHILE ON THE GRAND TOUR DOWN EAST.
Philadelphia, June, 10, 1833.
To Uncle Joshua Downing, Postmaster, up in Downingville, in the
State of Maine, with care and speed.
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 uniforms 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 anything
won't come amiss; we are as hungry as bears after traveling
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 here in these great cities.
The President wouldn't miss of seeing you for anything 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 that anything 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.
This traveling with the President is capital fun, after all, if
it wasn't so plaguy tiresome. We come into Baltimore on a
railroad, 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 at me and the
President. I gave the President a wink that this Indian fellow
was taking the shine off us a little; so we concluded we
wouldn't have him with us any more, but go on without him.
I can't 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 steamboats. And I can't 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 around 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 t'other 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 a while to help him along, but
at last he got so tired he had to lay down on a soft bench,
[ILLUSTRATION]MAJOR DOWNING SHAKING HANDS FOR THE GENERAL.
[Description: 688EAF. Page 207. In-line image. The general is sitting on a couch with one man behind him holding his hand in order that the General may shake hands with another man who is standing in front of him. In the background, a crowd watches.]
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 forehead
and wink. Then I kind of stood behind him, and reached
my arm round under his, and shook for him for about 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,
