Letters of Major Jack Downing, of the Downingville Militia Part 9

'Wal, Mr. Jones, did you hit Jim Wattles?' 'Wal, now, Judge, I can't be sartin; the truth is, I was _sloshin_ around most of the day, I reckon.' 'Now, Mr. Jones, tell me whether you struck d.i.c.k Robinson?'

'Can't say, Judge,' replied Bill. 'I believe, on the hull, I was _sloshin_ around about _all_ day.' 'Wal, Mr. Jones,' said the Justess, 'what do you mean by "sloshin around?"' 'Wal, Judge,' said Bill, '"_sloshin around_" is jest going rite thru a crowd, an mowin your swath, hitten rite an left everybody you meet slap over the face an eyes.' Now, the truth is, Majer, I've been 'sloshin around' sence I've been President, hittin in the dark, an not knowin exzacly where I struck. This Proclymashin of mine is a hit in the dark, but as I am the first anti-slavery President, I've got to mark out a new track, an hence do as old Bill Jones did, keep 'sloshin around.'"

"Wall," ses I, "Kernel, that's resky business, an ef you don't 'slosh'

once too often, it will be a wonder. But," ses I, "Kernel, I'me terribul tired after this trip, an what do you say to havin a little old rye before we go to bed?"--"That's jest what I was thinkin of, Majer." The Kernel then told the feller in bad close, who does ch.o.r.es for us, to get us some, an we both tuk a good swig of genewine rye-juice, an went to bed. I was eenamost tuckered out, but this mornin I feel nigh about as good as ever agin.

Yours till deth,

MAJER JACK DOWNING.

LETTER XIX.

_The President Nervous--The State Elections--Mr. Lincoln Astonished --He Takes Cordial--Mr. Seward Turns Democrat--The Major Tells a Story--Mr. Seward and the Major Take a Drink--How John Van Buren got Gen. Scott's Letter--Mr. Stanton on the Elections._

WASHINGTON, Oct. 20th, 1862.

_To the Editers of The Cawcashin:_

SURS: Wal, the Kernel has ben sick agin. It is astonishin how littel takes him down now-a-days. His const.i.tushin seems to be eenamost clean gone. Old rye don't do much good, an I've tried all sorts of medicin, but nothin seems to work well. This time his narves were terribly worked up, an he was so fidgety, that I koncluded to try G.o.dfrey's Cordial. This cooled him down a dood deal, and but not until he tuk nigh unto four or five bottles full. The cause of all this flutter was the recent elecshins in Ohio, Indiany an Pennsylvany. The Kernel had been told by Sumnure, Greeley an Andrews that the only way to carry the elecshins this fall, was to issoo an emanc.i.p.ashun proclamashun; that if he didn't do it, the party would be completely whipped out in every State. So he koncluded to try it, but wen the returns c.u.m in, you never did see such a woe-begone lookin man. One nite he heerd sum bad news from Ohio, an gettin up in his nite gown, he c.u.m to my room and axed what I thought about it. I struck a light an got out my slate. The Kernel had Greeley's last year's almanac in his hands. Ses he, "Majer, let's go down to the telegraf offis, and see how the majorities run, an we can be able to give a guess that will c.u.m as nigh to it as the jump of a rabbit." So I jist put on my duds, an off we went. The news c.u.m in thick an fast, an as the feller at the telegraf read off the figgers, I put 'em down on my slate, an the Kernel compared them with his own majorities in Greeley's primer. I see he was turnin all sorts of colors, an finally, ses he, "Majer, we are gone jist as kompletely as if we were up Salt River now, instead of bein here. I'de jest like to swap places with sum hoss-jockey, an go into the hoss contract line."

Ses he, "Majer, let's go hum. I've seen all of this elephant that I want to." So he crammed his coat-tail pocket full of despatches, an off we started. When he got hum, ses he, "Majer, my administrashin is the biggest failyure that ever tuk place in the history of this or eny other country. I now see that jest as plain as I see that bottle of old rye there. I've listened to those infernal fools, Sumnure an Greeley, an a pretty sc.r.a.pe they have got me in."

Ses I, "Kernel, it ain't my natur to hit a man wen he is down, or to hurt anybody's feelins by referrin to the past. But," ses I, "don't you rekollect the story about 'applyin the principle?'" Ses he, "Yes, I do; I recollect it well." "Wal," ses I, "now see the _result_ of 'applyin the principle.' I told you then that you'd get scorched wus than Zenas Humspun did in meddlin with the telegraf, if you undertook to carry out the principle of Abolishun, but you sed the thing must tech the bottom, an you was bound to put it through. Now, you see, the people don't support you. They don't want n.i.g.g.e.rs made equal to white men, nor they don't want 'em freed to be a tax on 'em. A few fellers like Greeley, whose brains all seem to run to bran-bread, an free luv, or some other moonstruck nonsense, an some larned fools like Sumnure, want to try the experiment, but they don't represent the people. So you see, Kernel, that in applyin the principle you have kicked yourself over, an I only menshin it to show you that if he had followed my advice you would not have had these grate defeats to mourn over."

The Kernel looked very solem, an ses he, "Majer, I know I'd been a great deal better off if I'd followed your advice all through these trubbils, but you see I had to go with my party, and if it had carried me to the other side of Jordon, I s'pose I should have gone with it."

That nite I thought the Kernel would go into spasms, he was so nervous.

I got some hot water, an soaked his feet in it, rubbed his bowels with brandy, an laid flannel on 'em, an bathed his temples in camfire an rum. But he grew wus all the time. Finally, I began to pore the Cordial down him, an then he commenced to revive. But he didn't sleep scacely a wink all nite. In the mornin he was the most limpsy piece of mankind I ever did see. I ralely believe he might have been tied in a knot like an eel, he was so limber.

Jest a little while after breakfast, who should come in but Seward? He hadn't hardly spoken to me sence I blowed him for alterin the Kernel's Const.i.tushinal Teliskope, but this mornin he was as perlite an as clever as he could be. Ses he, "Majer, the elecshin news is good, an _our_ party is successful." Ses I, "Mr. Seward, I don't understand you." "Why, Majer," ses he--and he put on one of the queerest smiles I ever see on a man's face--"don't you know I have turned Dimmocrat?" Ses I, "You don't say so." "Yes," ses he, "I'm a Dimmocrat now, an no mistake." The Kernel looked as if thunder had struck him. "Wal," ses I, "Mr. Seward, that reminds me of a story, as the Kernel would say."

"Wal," ses he, "Majer, what is it? I always like to hear your stories.

They are so pat." "Wal," ses I, "mebby this will turn out to be a little patter than you like; but, howsoever, as I never spile a good story for acquaintance sake, I will tell it. Once on a time, it is said, an old c.o.o.n went out of a night to get some fodder among the cornfields, an did not return to his hole until near mornin. Wen he got hum he saw a skunk had taken possession of his hole. He went up, an ses he, 'Who's there?' The skunk replied, 'A c.o.o.n.' 'Are you a c.o.o.n?'

'Yes,' said the skunk, 'I'm a c.o.o.n.' 'Wal,' sed the c.o.o.n, 'you don't look like a c.o.o.n; you don't act like a c.o.o.n, and I'll be darned ef you _smell_ like a c.o.o.n.'"

"Now," ses I, "Mr. Seward, you may be a Dimmocrat, but you don't look like one, nor act like one, nor smell like one, an I'll be darned ef I believe you are one."

Ses he, "Majer, you are rather personal." "Wal," ses I, "I don't mean any offence, an," ses I, "if you really mean to be a Dimmocrat, let's take a drink of old rye over the victories in Ohio, Pennsylvany and Indiany." So he c.u.m up an we both took a good swig of wiskey. The Kernel looked at us an grit his teeth. "Wal," ses he, "ef you are goin to rejoice in my defeat, I'll go over an call on Stantin, an see ef he can't cheer me up." So the Kernel went off. After he'd gone, Seward an I tuk another nip of the old rye, an purty soon we tasted of it agin.

The Seckretary is a capital drinker, an he knows what good licker is as well as eny feller I ever see. Finally he got in a very good humer, an ses he, "Majer, we've been bad friends long enough." So he actually hugged me, and sed there warn't a man that ever lived that he loved so much as the old Ginneral, an next to him his friend Majer Downing. Wen I thought I'd got him in a good humer an he was very talkative, ses I, "Mr. Seckretary, kin you tell me how John Van Buren got that letter of Ginneral Scott's?" Ses he, "Yes, Majer, I kin. You know I don't want that feller Wadswurth elected, for he's my bitter political inemy; so the way the letter got out was this:--Weed, you know, is my chum. Now, we have an understandin that everything that I can't tell him I put in my right hand coat-tail pocket. You see then I can deny that I made it public. That pocket is Weed's pocket, an he always goes to it for secrets. Wal, I put the letter in that pocket, an Weed got it from there. Weed also has just such a pocket. All smart politishins have such a pocket. Now, Weed's chum is Ben Welch, Commissary Ginneral, an Ben got it out of Weed's pocket. Now, John has long been a chum of Ben's, an he got it out of Ben's pocket. That's the way that this letter got out, that there is so much mystery about."

Rite off after this the Kernel came in, an we had to drop the conversashin, for Seward gave me the wink as much as to say that he didn't want Linkin to know everything about it.

Then I asked the Kernel what Stantin sed. He sed Stantin was in favor of issooing a proclamashin, over the grate victories of the Administrashin in Ohio, Indiany, Pennsylvany an Iway. He sed the people didn't put any faith in newspapers any more, an a proclamashin declarin that the elecshins had all gone favorabul would be believed without winkin. Stantin thinks there ain't nothin so powerful as a proclamashin. Seward said afore it was done, the Cabbynet had better be called together. Here the matter dropped, an as the Kernel looked uncommon blue, I left him to his own reflecshins, an went up-stairs to my room.

Yours till deth,

MAJER JACK DOWNING.

LETTER XX.

_The New York Election--Mr. Lincoln Tells a Story--Cannot Do Justice to the Subject--Mr. Lincoln Feels Bad--The Major Amuses him by a Joke--How to get up a Message--Keeping a Party Together--The Excelsior Political Prepared Glue--The Different Stripes of Abolitionists-- Boating on the Mississippi River--Poleing Along._

WASHINGTON, Nov. 10th, 1862.

_To the Editers of The Cawcashin:_

I expect you were very much surprised in not gettin a letter from me last week, but the truth is, I got one partly writ jest as the news of the elecshins in New York an Jersey c.u.m in, an I should have finished it an sent it on ef the Kernel had not been taken down sick so sudden.

Wen the rumor fust c.u.m that York city had gone over thirty thousand for Seemore, an that Fernandow an Ben. Wood an Jeemes Brooks had been elected to Congriss, the Kernel didn't say a word, but looked as ef he'd drop down thru the floor. I didn't like to speak fust, but I see the Kernel warn't going to, an so ses I, "How do you feel, Mr.

Presidint?" "Wal," ses he, "Majer, I'll tell you a story. A good meny years ago there lived in lower Kentuck an old feller named Josh Miller.

Now, it was ginerally reckoned in that part of the country that old Josh could out-swear eny feller that ever lived. Josh was a kind of gineral teamster, an had a two-hoss wagon with which he did ch.o.r.es for everybody round the village. One day he had on a load of ashes, an was goin up a steep hill, sittin on the fore part of his wagon. Wen about half way up the hind-board of his wagon c.u.m out, an old Josh not lookin round, nigh about all the ashes jarred out, so wen he got to the top of the hill he didn't have a pan full left. He stopped his hosses, however, an got out, an a hull lot of fellers, who knew the ability of old Josh in the swearin line, gathered around expecting to here the tallest kind of strong words. The old feller looked fust at his wagon an then at the ashes all strewed along the road, an finally ses he, 'Boys, there's no use in tryin--_I can't do jestice to the subject_.'

An now, Majer," ses the Kernel, "That jest my condition now--I can't do jestice to the subject, an I don't feel like talkin; in fact, I _can't_ talk."

I see the Kernel felt very bad, an ef he couldn't talk nor tell stories, I didn't know wat on arth might happen. I was afeered he would get so full that sumthin like the dropsy would set in. An sure enuf, that nite not a word did he speak, nor a story did he tell. The consekence was, he began to swell an bloat like a mad porkepine. I see at once that I must turn doctor agin, or there was no tellin how soon he might kick the bucket. He was growin wus fast, actually beginnin to look _blue_. So ses I, "Kernel, there's no help for it; you must be tapped!" "Tapped!" ses he, "Majer, tapped! There warn't enything ever _tapped_ in my house that lasted more that a week. Oh no! I ain't reddy to die yet." I see the "rulin pashin was strong in deth," jest as the poet's say; but as soon as I got a joke out of him, I knew that he would survive. So thinks I to myself, I'll see ef I can fetch him to by another joke; so ses I, "Kernel, suppose 'tappin' should kill you, you would go to a _world of spirits_!"

Wen I said this, he jumped rite up out of his chair, laughin, an takin me by the hand, ses he, "Majer, you are the best frend I've got. Wen I'm sick you doctor me, an wen I'm down spereted you jest joke me rite out of the dumps." Ses he, "Majer, I've a good mind to make you Commander-in-Cheef of the Army." "No, no," ses I, "Kernel, don't do that, for I should think you had sumthin agin me, an wanted to hand me over to the Abolishinists to be punished!"

The Kernel and I have also been bizzy sence I wrote you last in getting up the next message. He has been ritin his ideas on little slips of paper about two inches wide, as they have happened to pop in his head, an then submitten 'em to me to sort of polish up. The Kernel ses that ritin a message is a good deal like gettin out timber for a barn in the woods. Fust, you want the sills, then the posts, then the girders, then the plates, an finally the rafters. We ain't got the sills fairly hewed out and squared yit. The truth is, the Kernel is kinder worried as to how exactly to lay the foundashin. Wilson, who is now here, ses the sills must be of Abolishin timber, and no mistake. I telled the Kernel that sich stuff was the poorest kind of ba.s.s-wood, an wouldn't stand nohow. Then he thought of puttin in a mixture of Abolishin timber an sum const.i.tutional saw-logs, but I telled him that that would make it so cross-grained that it wouldn't bear eny weight at all, an by the time we got the rafters on it would all smash down in a pile. "Wal,"

ses he, "Majer, I must do sumthin to keep my party together. I must contrive sum sort of a mixture that won't look too much Abolishin, an yet that won't drive off the old, genewine friends of freedom." "Wal,"

ses I, "I don't think your party kin hold together much longer, enyhow.

It seems to me it is mity nigh now fallen to pieces, an it won't take much longer to knock it into so menny pieces that you can't no more putty 'em together than you can find the tail of a rainbow."

"Wal," ses the Kernel, "Majer, don't you think I've done well in keepin it together as long as I have?" Ses I, "Yes, Kernel, ef there's a feller in this country that ought to git out a patent for 'Excelsior Political Prepared Glue,' it is you. You've kept together the most cross-grained, knotty, knerly lot of political timber that ever was made up into eny political party." Ses I, "There's the Greeley stripe.

Now, it's enuf to give any party the dyspepsy to have such a set of bran-bread, free-luv, long-haired set of fellers in it. An ther's Gerrit Smith an his stripe, a kind of maroon-colored, mongrel breed of politicians, sumthin like a cross between a Jamacy n.i.g.g.e.r an an Esquimaw; an then ther's Wendell Phillips an old Garrison, sort of Abolishin alligators; an fineally you've got a sort of half-an-half fellers in your party who try to be conservative, who quote Blackstun and the law dicschinnaries, an set great stress upon being very moderate. Now, how you've contrived, Kernel, to keep all these different ingredients together is a mystery." "Wal, Majer, ef I hadn't larn't sumthin about boatin on the Mississippi River, wen I was young, I don't believe I would ever have been able to steer the ship of State at all." "Why," ses I, "how is that?" "Wal," ses he, "goin up the Mississippi River is a good deal like being Presidint. Sumtimes you have to go one way and sumtimes another. Sumtimes you go slam rite in one bank an sumtimes in t'other, and then it ain't at all oncommon to get on a sand-bar, an lay there no one can tell how long. Now, Majer, that's a good deal like being Presidint, an you see I've kept my party together by jest goin first one way an then t'other. Wen the Abolishin tide c.u.m along strong, I'de jest let the vessel foller the current, go with it, an wen she struck the other sh.o.r.e, of course, it would take another tack. Sumtimes, when all hands got a quarrelin, I jest let her rip rite on a sand-bar, and there let her lay until I made 'em settle their disputes. But, I tell you, Majer, there's one that has been the best of all to keep my party together. Wen they've got purty mutinous, I've threatened to discharge all hands an get a new set. Then you ought to see how soon they stop quarrelin. Ther's nothin they so much dred as to lose the offices. Take away the cow that gives the milk, an they would all blat jest like weaned calves. So wen I stop the ship an tell them that I'm goin to clear the deck an put on a new crew, I tell you they are as whist as mice. So you see, I go poleing along. First this way, then that, jest like goin up the Mississippi River, for all the world."

"Wal," ses I, "Kernel, that seems to me a rather hap-hazard, no-policy way of bein Presidint. It ain't statesmanlike." "Wal, Majer, mebby it is and mebby it ain't; but I'm goin to make things shake now, sence the elecshins are over. Things have got to be more lively."

I didn't say nothin, for I see the Kernel was gettin his back up. At last, ses I, "Kernel, have you tried eny of that old rye lately?" Ses he, "No, Majer, I ain't, but I feel like wettin my gills to-nite. How do you feel?" "Wal," ses I, "Kernel, a little good whiskey never goes agin the grain." At that the Kernel sent for the feller who does ch.o.r.es, an we both took a swig. Wen I thought he was in purty good humor, ses I, "Kernel, why did you remove McClellin?" Ses he, "Majer, I can't tell you now, but jest recollect my story about 'polein around,'

an gettin in 'Abolishin currents,' an you kin guess." I sed nothin, for I see the Kernel was very mum, so I bid him good-nite, and slept as sound on that old rye as I ever did wen I was a boy. The Kernel is famous for good whiskey, anyhow.

Yours, till deth,

MAJER JACK DOWNING.

LETTER XXI.

_The Message--A Cabinet Council--Speeches of Seward, Chase, Stanton, Welles, Blair and Bates--Mr. Lincoln Tells a Story--The Major Gives His Opinion--Mr. Chase Accuses Him of Disloyalty--The Major Demands a Retraction--It is Given._

WASHINGTON, Nov. 22, 1862.

_To the Editers of The Cawcashin:_