Letters of Major Jack Downing, of the Downingville Militia Part 10

SURS:--Wal, the messige ain't done yet. The Kernel keeps tinkerin at it a little every day. I tell him he is jest like a cooper hammerin at a barrel. He keeps poundin away, an when he gits thru, he is rite around jest where he started from. The other day I telled the Kernel that it mite hurry up matters by havin a Cabinet Council, and perhaps by gettin all heds together we mite git the messige in sum sort of shape.

Congress would meet afore long, an there was no time to loose. The Kernel sed he thought that would be a good idee, an so one was called.

The Kernel insisted that I should be present, though I didn't much want to be, sence I knew how Seward was trying to play the conservative and turn Dimmycrat. Howsoever, I determined to go but to say nothin. The Kernel opened the ball by tellin all hands how that he an the Majer had been to work at the messige for some weeks, off an on, like farmers sortin their corn, but they couldn't git the docyment into ship-shape exactly, an hence he had called 'em together to hear their opinions on the subject, an to larn how each department, stood. He sed he wanted to tech on all subjects, an fust he would ask Mr. Seward about our furrin affairs. Seward got up, lookin very pale, an the fust thing he sed was, that he believed Seemore was elected Guvernor of New York. Mr. Chase wanted to know "what that had to do with foreign affairs, but," ses he, an here he looked very knowin, "perhaps Mr. Seward kin tell how Seemore c.u.m to be elected?" At this Seward brushed up an asked him "what he meant?" "Wal," ses he, "I mean jest this, that if you an Weed had not thrown cold water on Wadsworth, Seemore would never have been elected."

"That's false," ses Seward, an Chase jumped up as if he was goin to do sumthin, but the Kernel at once interfered, an sed that he didn't send for 'em to quarrel about the elecshins, which were bad enough, Lord knows, but he wanted to know how the furrin affairs stood. Seward sed, "that, comin to the pint, furrin affairs never looked better. We were at peace with all the world, an he didn't doubt but with the aid of his friend Weed, and a liberal use of secret service money, he would be able to keep the peace. He sed it looked now as if, in sixty days, that all idee of furrin intervenshin for the rebils would be given up, an then the rebelyun would be smashed at once."

Then the Kernel asked Mr. Chase how the financies stood. Wal, Chase sed that everything was working splendid; that only the other day he got a loan in Wall street above par; that everything was risin in price, an that the people was tickled to deth with the good-lookin notes he got out; that they liked 'em so well, an they were so much handier than gold an silver, that they didn't use enything else lately. He sed he thought he was going to be set down as the greatest financier since the days of Liecurgus, who made money out of iron, an thus made all the people rich at once. He said that he would make 'em all rich, ef paper didn't get too high, an there was some danger of it, as the pesky rebils had all the cotton to make it of. Jest get that, an he would snap his fingers at the hull world.

Then Stantin got up. He sed everything was now progressin finely sence the Ralerode Sooperintendent had been discharged. He didn't doubt but Burnside would be in Richmond by the time Congress met, an he thought it was so sure, that he advised Linkin to put it in his Message at once. He sed his idee was, as soon as Richmond was taken, to issoo a proclamashin appointing a day of thanksgiv'n an prayer for our victory over the rebils. He sed, ef his plans had been followed, we would have been in the rebil Capital long ago, but it was all rite now, and no one need have eny fears.

Then grandfather Welles spoke. He sed Mr. Stantin seemed to think that the army was goin to do all, but he could tell him that he would find that his gunboats were to play a big part. He had been all summer buildin a hull lot of iron-plated monsters, an ef the war didn't c.u.m to an end too soon, they would make the fur fly. At all events, they would be reddy to celebrate peace, which would be somethin. For his part, he didn't think the war was nigh ended; yet in fact, he didn't see how it could end until all the contracts were finished. It would'nt do to disappint so many good members of the party, who hadn't yet had their turn buyin vessels on commission, or makin gunboats.

Then Mr. Blair got up, lookin as if he thought that wisdom would surely die when he did. He sed he reckoned that the country was safe. He sed he had kept a pretty close watch on the newspapers to see ef eny of them opposed the war or advocated slavery. He thought that the people never had had sich advantages in the Post-Office as they had had sence he was Postmaster-Gineral. The people, he sed, used to have to pick out the papers they wanted to take themselves, now he did it for 'em. He sed he thought he knew best, too, what was good for them, for his father was an editor a good meny years, an when he needed informashin he allers called on the old man! When Blair sot down, the Kernel called upon Mr. Bates, but he had gone to sleep, so they skipped him and called upon Mr. Smith. He sed that the interior department was in a flourishin condishin, but he hed lately heered that the loco focos had agin carried Indianny, and it had so worried him as to give him the tooth-ache. Ef they wanted to know anythin more about this department, he would ask his chief clark. Here the Kernel asked Seward ef he wouldn't wake up Mr. Bates. Seward jest walked up, tuk his finger and thumb and pinched the old man's nose. As he was breathin very hard thru it, he jumped up as ef he had ben p.r.i.c.ked with a pin. Ses he, "Have the rebils took Saint Lewis?" Seward telled him that this was a Cabbynet Council. "Aye," ses he, "what's up?" "Wal," ses Linkin, "we want to know the condishin of your department?" Ses he, "I ain't a military Ginneral, an ain't got command of no department!" The old man warn't fairly awake yet; ses Seward, ses he, "I guess I'll have to give him another pinch." "Now," ses the Kernel, "that reminds me of a story. An old Dominy down in Connecticut used to have a very sleepy congregashin.

One day, wen a good many were asleep, he stopped rite in the middle of his sermon, and called out, 'Deacon Giles, sing the 119th Psalm, to the tune of Old Hundred.' The Deacon commenced and sung one verse. Wen he got thru, the Dominy yelled out at the top of his voice, 'sing another va.r.s.e, Deacon; they ain't all awake yit.'" Wile all hands were laughing at the Kernel's story, Mr. Bates got putty wide awake, and sed that his business had got sorter mixed up with Stantin's, and in fact there warnt any courts or judges or juries now, an mity little need of Atturny Ginnerals--the Ginnerals were all of another kind. He sed wen the war was over he meant to write out a legal opinion agin it, but he was afeered it wouldn't be loyal to do it now, and so he spent most of his time in reading a bound volume of the Christian Almanac, which he had for fifty years back. He thought the country was in a very prosperous condishin, for he drew his salary regular.

After he got thru, the Kernel called on me to make sum remarks, but I telled him "I didn't c.u.m there to say enything, but only to listen, an to see ef I could larn enough of what was goin on to complete the message." They all set in then, especially Seward, an sed I must give my impreshins, ef nothin more. "Wal," I telled 'em, "ef I sed enything I should be jest as blunt as a pump-handle, an they mustn't take no offence; an that so far as I was consarned, I might jest as well go to a singin school to larn to dance as to have c.u.m here to find enything about the state of the country. Every one of 'em seemed to be thinkin about himself, an nothin about the country. Because they drew their salary regularly, an had enough to eat and drink, they thought n.o.body was hurt. I telled 'em that I guessed they all had on 'Glorification Spectacles,' an that everything was magnified to 'em. Then I sed that jest what the Kernel wanted to know to put in his message was, how many sojers we had, an how much they were costin; an how many sailyurs we had, an how many ships, an how much they cost. Then I telled 'em that the people would like to know how many poor fellers had lost their lives sence the war begun; how many had been crippled, &c., &c.; an how much the debt would be after we all got thru; an finally, what great good we had got by it all." Here Chase spoke up. Ses he, "We'll establish freedom an restore the Union." "Wal," ses I, "ef you want four millions of n.i.g.g.e.rs to take keer of, you're welcome to 'em, but as for restorin the Union by war, so far it's jest been like climbin a greased pole; as fast as you climb up you slip back, an," ses I, "it will be so to the eend of the chapter, unless I'me mistaken." Ses Chase, ses he, "The Majer is disloyal." Wen he sed that I jumped rite up with my hickory, an ses I, "Ain't your name Salmon?" Ses he, "Yes."

"Wal," ses I, "it won't be long if you don't take that back." I never see a feller look so scart. Ses he, "Majer, I didn't mean eny offence, an so I'll take it back, for I think you mean well." I telled him "that I didn't allow enybody to say or to intimate that I warnt a friend to the Const.i.tushin and the Union."

The Kernel here spoke an sed that his Cabbynet was a good deal like old Josh Pendleton's boys out in lower Illinoy. They allers c.u.m hum every New Years to see the old man an have a talk of old times, but afore they got thru they allers had a regular fite. So he thought he'd adjurn the Cabbynet for fear there would be a scrimmage here.

Then they all took their departure, an the messige ain't no nearer done than ever. The Kernel an I have set up nite after nite, an drank old rye, but it is no use, we can't get it in ship-shape form. The Kernel ses he guesses he will jest get the messige out in rough and send it into Congris, an let Sumnure, Chandler, Lovejoy an Thad Stevens lick it into shape.

Yourn till deth,

MAJER JACK DOWNING.

LETTER XXII.

_The Message Finished--Mr. Sumner says it is not Grammatical--The Major's Excuse--Mr. Sumner Finds Fault with the Major's Spelling--The Major Stumps Him--He Gives His Views on "Edication"--Mr. Lincoln Proposes a Connundrum--The Major Tells a Story--Mr. Seward's Opinion on the War._

WASHINGTON, Dec. 6th, 1862.

_To the Editers of The Cawcashin:_

SURS:--Wal, I'm glad to say that Congriss has got together, an the Messige has been red an digested. He wouldn't let Seward or Chase have enything to do with it, but he jest mauled it all out himself. The next day arter the Messige was sent in, Sumnure c.u.m in an sed the Messige warn't exactly grammatikal in all its parts. I telled him that "I guessed ef he had to work around short corners as the Kernel did, without gettin tripped up, he would find it mity hard work to get everything jest according to grammer." I telled him "grammer warn't of eny ackount wile the rebellyun lasted--that, like the Const.i.tushin, the grammer was suspended, or locked up where habus korpus couldn't get at it. In fact," ses I, "Mr. Sumnure, I think that eny man who talks about its bein necessary to obsarve the laws of grammer, or any other laws, wen a nashin is in a deth struggle with traiturs, is a disloyal person, an orter to be sent to Fort La Fieit." Wen I sed this, Sumnure turned all sorts of colors, an ses he, "Wal, Majer, perhaps you're rite about grammer; but I think you orter spell the President's name rite in your letters. It's a disrespect to the Cheef Majestrate not to do it."

"Wal," ses I, "Mr. Sumnure, I've got my own idees on spellin. Spellin is a good deel like sparkin the gals--it's jest as a feller takes a noshin. My idee is, ef I spell a word so as to git its sound, I'm rite, an I don't keer wat you say, it's the only rule of spellin that holds good in the long run. Now," ses I, "ef L-i-n-k-i-n don't spell Linkin, what on arth does it spell?" That seemed to stump him. "But," ses he, "Majer, there's some ginneral rules that orter be observed--rules that the schools all use." "Wal," ses I, "I don't know much about schools, an I guess the Kernel don't nether. I went to school six weeks, an the Kernel ses he went six months. School larnin is mity poor truck to put into a feller's hed onless he's got a good deal of brains there.

There's more edicated fools now in the world than there are fools of eny other kind, an there's a great menny of them, Lord knows. And," ses I, "it's those edicated fools that make all the trubbil."

"Why, Majer," ses he, "you ain't an enemy to edication, I hope."

"Wal, no, Mr. Senator, I ain't no enemy to edication; I only hate edicated fools."

Ses he, "Majer, what do you mean by edicated fools?"

"Wal," ses I, "wen I was a boy, an went to school the six weeks I speak of, there was a boy in my cla.s.s who could beat me a spellin an readin, an in eenamost everything, but I could lick him jest as easy as I could whistle. He hadn't eny more s.p.u.n.k, or pluck, or courage than a sick kitten, an mighty little genewine common sense. His father, however, sent him to college, an the fust thing I heerd of him, the papers were callin him a larned man, an he ain't done enything ever sence but to blab at Abolishin meetins an make Abolishin speeches. Now," ses I, "that's wat I call an edicated fool. Jest like the larned pig, he can do wat he larns to do or sees done; but as for real common sense to tell wether a thing is rite or rong, he ain't worth eny more for it than a bull-dog is to catch rats."

Sumnure looked kinder streaked wen I sed this, but I didn't say a word, an jest here the Kernel, who had been down stairs to get his boot-jack, c.u.m in. Ses he, "Good mornin, Mr. Sumnure. I'll bet you one of Chase's greenbacks," ses he, "that you can't tell why this boot-jack is like an offis-seeker." Sumnure sed he couldn't. "Wal," ses the Kernel, "because it sticks close to the heels of the Presidint."

I telled the Kernel how that Sumnure sed that the Messige warn't grammatikal. "Wal," ses he, "I beleeve everything goes rong sence I became Presidint. The country is upside down; the n.i.g.g.e.rs are more trubbul than ever before; the white men are cuttin one another's throats, an it seems as if Bedlam was let loose; an now the grammer has been violated, they say. Wal, I wonder wat on arth I am fit for. I never succeeded well in flat-botein; I allers had poor c.r.a.ps wen I tried to be a farmer; I was too tall to split rails handy; and, as a lawyer, I warn't enything more than from poor to middlin. Ef I can't be Presidint, I don't see wat on arth I was made for."

"Wal," ses I, "Kernel, perhaps you are like the old Quaker's dog." Ses he, "How was that, Majer?" "Wal," ses I, "I'll tell you the story. Up in Maine, not far from Downingville, there used to live an old Quaker named Hezekiah Peabody. He had a yaller dog that was allus loungin around the house. One day Sol Hopkins, a rough old feller, c.u.m along, an ses he, 'Mr. Peabody, I want a dog to hunt foxes. Do you think your dog is good for foxes?' 'Now,' ses the Quaker, 'neighbor Solomon, I never tried the dog on foxes for the huntin of any animals is not my business; but if thee wishes a dog for foxes, accordin to the Scripters, this dog must be a good dog for foxes.' 'Wal, will you warrant him a good dog for foxes?' 'I cannot do that, neighbor Solomon, for I never tried him on foxes; but, accordin to the Scripters, thee can be sure the dog is good for foxes.' So old Sol, thinkin that Scripter proof must be good, give the Quaker five dollars for the dog.

He took him hum, an the next day he saw a fox runnin across one of his lots. So he called the dog an showed him the fox, but he wouldn't stir an inch after him. This made old Sol terribul mad, an the next day he took the dog back to the Quaker, an ses he, in his rough way: 'Mr.

Peabody, this dog is not worth a dam!' 'Tut, tut, neighbor Solomon, thee shouldn't speak profanely with thy lips.' 'That may be,' ses old Sol, 'but didn't you tell me that this dog was good for foxes.' 'No, neighbor Solomon, I think not. I said accordin to Scripters he _must_ be good for foxes.' 'Wal,' ses old Sol, 'how do you make that out?'

'Wal, neighbor, the Scripters say, "that there is nothin made in vain,"

_an as I had tried that dog on everything else except fox-huntin, I thought that that must be what he was made for_!' "Now," ses I, "Kernel, I hope it won't turn out that you are like the old Quaker's dog, 'made in vain,' or, as old Sol. Hopkins expressed it, 'not worth a d----!'

but," ses I, "ef you don't restore this Union before your term expires, the people will think that you were a good deal worse than the Quaker's dog, for if he warn't good for enything, he didn't do any particular harm."

The Kernel didn't seem to like this story much, for ses he, "Majer, I think you are getin kinder personel." Ses I, "No, Kernel; I don't mean to be, but you know stories sometimes will fit closer than you think for when you begin to tell 'em."

Jest here Seward c.u.m in, an with his church-yard smile, ses he, "Good mornin, Mr. President. I've got good news from England. There won't be any intervenshin now, an the rebellyun will all be over in 60 days. My friend Weed thinks so, too."

"What's up, Boss?" ses Linkin. That's the name he calls Seward by.

"Oh," ses he, rubbin his hands, "don't you see by the papers what a large amount of money the merchants in York are subscribin for the poor, patient, starving English workmen. G.o.d bless 'em." Here Seward drew a deep sigh, and then ses he, "It will produce such a good effect in England! Intervenshin is dead. The rebellyun is crushed, an all by this grand an n.o.ble idee of mine to feed the starvin poor. What filanthropy will do, when it is done right!" An here Seward commenced rubbin his hands an walkin about the room, an actin like a gal that is jest goin to get married. I didn't say enything, an the Kernel didn't say enything either, an it warn't a minut afore Seward dodged out of the door as quick as he c.u.m in. After he hed gone, ses I, "Kernel, how many times has Seward hed the rebellyun suppressed?" "Oh," ses he, "he goes to sleep every night with the sartin belief that the Union will be restored by daylight; that Jeff Davis will be hanging on a sour apple tree by noon, an that he will be elected next President by sundown."

"Wal," ses I, "Kernel, I think you've got a queer cabinet." "Yes," ses he, "that I have. Seward thinks that his ritin letters to Europe is goin to overthrow the rebellyun. Chase thinks it can't be done, except by his greenbacks an freein the n.i.g.g.e.rs. Old grandfather Welles is sure that there is nothin will restore the Union except his gunboats; while Blair feels sure that he kin do it by stoppin Dimmecratic papers!" Ses I, "Why don't you change 'em?" "Wal," ses he, "what's the use of swappin jackets? There ain't nothin to be made by it. No, I won't change my Cabynet onless I'm druv to it. It's bad enough now, but Lord only knows what it might be ef I ondertake to change it."

I was in hopes I could induce Linkin to put in some new men, an get out Chase, Seward, Stantin an Blair. But it's no use. So we shall jog along after the old fashion. Where we shall be in the spring no one kin tell.

Congriss has gone to work in arnest to fix up the financies, an to take keer that the Dimmecrats don't sue Linkin for suspendin the habus korpus. The filanthropists are also bizzy, an they are goin to give all the n.i.g.g.e.rs here a Christmas dinner, which, I suppose, is expected to last 'em the year round. Eatin like a Turk one day an starvin 364, is, accordin to my idees, a poor way of livin.

Yours, till deth,

MAJOR JACK DOWNING.

LETTER XXIII.

_The Major Goes to See the Postmaster-General about Stopping Papers--Mr. Blair Promises to Release Them--The President Again in Trouble--A Change in the Cabinet Demanded--The Major Suggests a Remedy for "the Crysis."_

WASHINGTON, Dec. 20, 1862.

_To the Editers of The Cawcashin:_

SURS:--Wal, ef I ain't been bizzy sence I writ you last, I wouldn't say so. I got your letter about seein Blair on the questshin of sendin THE CAWCASHIN in the mails, an I hadn't eny doubt but he would do it as soon as I put the subjec to him in the rite light. Blair's father, "Parson Blair," as he used to be called in the old Ginneral's time, an I used to be very thick. He helped me sifer a good deal wen I was postin the Ginneral up about Biddle's Bank matters. But I hadn't seen the old man for a long time ontel I called on him tother day. He was dredful glad to see me, an shuck my hand as ef he thought there warn't no feelin in it. Ses he, "Majer, it's a long time sence we've met, an I know you are a loyal man, for there ain't no follerer of Ginneral Jackson that could be enything else." Ses I, "Ef there's a loyal man in this country, I'm one. I go for puttin down every feller that's opposed to the Const.i.tushin, I don't keer who he is. I only wish we had an Old Hickery to step in now an jest deal out jestiss all around, without any parshality. I guess there's a good menny fellers that don't expect it, who might get histed." "Wal," ses he, "Majer, I'm of your idee exactly. The truth is, I'm thinkin that this administrashin is played out. The Ultrys will ruin it." "Wal," ses I, "Mister Blair, I've c.u.m to see you about another matter. Your son Montgummery, who used to be a little shaver in the old Ginneral's time, has got the place of Amos Kindle, an he has been stoppin Dimmycratic papers in the mails." "Oh no," ses he, "I guess not; only sum disloyal sheets." "No," ses I, "I'll give you a hunderd dollars for every word of disloyalty agin the Const.i.tushin you'll find in that paper." Here I took a CAWCASHIN out of my pocket, an handed it to him. He looked it over an couldn't find nothin to object to. Then I showed him the motto at its head, taken from his own words about the freedom of the press, an then I telled him I wanted him to go with me to Montgummery, an see ef the thing couldn't be fixed. So we went over, an you never see a man stare so as Montgummery did. Ses he, "Majer Downing, I'm tickled to see you. I think you have slighted me sence you've been in Washington.

You've been to see nigh about all the members of the Cabynet except me." "Wal," ses I, "I don't go around much, except on bizness for the Kernel; but now," ses I, "I've c.u.m on another arrand; I've c.u.m to see why you don't allow all the Dimmycratic newspapers to go in the mails?"

"Wal," ses he, "Majer, that's jest wat I'm goin to do. It was bad bizness for us that we ever stopped these papers. It made more votes for the Dimmycratic party than eny other cause. The truth is, it never was my policy. I never did beleeve in it, and now they all see it must be given up." Ses I, "Mister Blair, ef you didn't beleeve in it, you orter have refused to do it. That ain't the way the old Ginneral acted, an he's my model. Ef he thought enything was rong, there warn't a mortal man, high or low, that could have got him to do it. He would have died afore he would do wat his conscence told him warn't right, an it's them kind of men that are great men, an will save our country, ef it ever is saved." "Wal," ses he, "Majer, you're about right, an I don't think I shall stay in this bote much longer. Things are goin from bad to wus." "Yes," ses I, "they are like old Sol Hopkins's dyin cow, 'gettin no better very fast.'" "But," ses he, "Majer, you can rest easy on the papers. We are goin back to the Free Press Principul, an let the people have their own way." "Wal," ses I, "I'm glad to hear it. It's about time there was a change."

So I bid him good-by, an went back to see the Kernel, who I found in a peck of trubbil. Ses I, "What's the matter now!" for I saw at a glance that sumthin was up. Ses I, "Is Burnside whipped agin, or is Stonewall Jackson in our rear?" "No," ses he, "Majer, nothin of that sort, but sumthin jest about as bad." "Wal," ses I, "what is it?" "Wal," ses he, "there has jest been a committy here from the Senit who demand that I shall change my Cabbynet. They say we don't have eny success, an the peopul demand a change." Ses I, "Did you kick em down stairs?" "No,"

ses he, "I didn't." "Wal," ses I, "you orter. They mite jest as well ask you to resign." Ses I, "Don't your Cabbynet agree in your policy?

Don't they do as you desire?" "Yes," ses he, "they do." "Wal," ses I, "then what's the use of changin? If you intend to change your policy, then it is reasonable to ask you to change your Cabbynet, but otherways not." "Wal," ses he, "Majer, that's my idee exactly, but I didn't tell em so; I thought I would wait an see what you thought of it." "Wal,"

ses I, "I see the hull cause of the rumpus. The defeat of Burnside has made em so wrathy that they didn't know what to do, an they thought they must find fault about sumthin." Ses I, "Fighten the rebils is jest for all the world like bar huntin. A good menny years ago, when it was common up in Maine, nigh about all the nabors would now an then turn out to hunt a bar. If they caught him they used to have a grand time, get up a big supper an drink whisky till they all got how c.u.m you so.

But if they didn't ketch the bar, then one was blamin tother, an tother anuther, an sumtimes the affair would end by gettin into a regular fite all around. Jest so it is now. If Burnside had whipped the rebils, it would all have been right." Ses Linkin, ses he, "Major, you're right.

But what am I do? They komplain about the Cabbynet, an want me to change it." "Wal," ses I, "Kernel, I tell you how to fix it. Get the Committy and Cabbynet face to face, an let 'em quarrel it out." "That would be a capital idee, Majer, but how am I to do it?" "Wal," ses I, "you jest call the Cabbynet together for twelve o'clock to-morrow, an then send for the Committy, an put 'em in the same room together, an see how the happy family will manage." The Kernel was struck with the idee, an so the next day the Cabbynet were a.s.sembled, an pooty soon after the Committy, with Fessenden as Cheerman, made their appearance.

You never see a more fl.u.s.tircated set of people in this world than these men were. But there was no backin out. The Kernel called the meetin to order, an sed he had received a good many komplaints, an he wanted the matter fully discussed. Fessenden got up an sed that the peeple were gettin tired of the war, an that the only way to satisfy 'em was to change the Cabbynet. Burnside had been defeated, Banks had been sent a great ways off, when he was wanted at home, the sojers warn't paid, the gunboats warn't finished, &c., &c. Chase got up first; he sed if the sojers warn't paid it warn't his fault. The fact was, that paper had riz onexpectedly, an his stock was low. Jest as soon as paper got more plenty, an he got the new patent National Ten Cylendar Revolvin Machine at work, the sojers would be all paid regular. Then Stantin got up, puffin like a porpuss. Ses he, "Mr. President, these ere remarks are impertinent, an if I had my way, I would send every one of this Committy to the Old Capitol. I'de like to know what these men know about war, and strategy. Why, they talk about the defeat of Burnside. It is nonsense, sir; he ain't been defeated! The people are humbugged by the newspapers. It's a pity there's a newspaper in the land. They interfere with my strategy. Burnside has gained a great success. He has discovered the strength of the enemy's works at that pint, an now we know that some other route is the one to take, an not that one. Ef it had not been for this battle, we shouldn't have found that out. This Committy of old gentlemen, or old women, I had almost said, don't understand the art of war. Their talk is sheer impertinence. I'de squelch em with a proclamashin, if no other way."