Chapter III: Letter I

_The Major Announces that he "Still Lives"--The Reason why he has not Spoken before--Writes to "President Linkin," who at once Sends for him--How Lincoln Shakes Hands--His Troubles--The Major's Advice --Lincoln to get an "Appintment on Gineral McClellan's Staff"--A Story About Old Rye, from Mr. Lincoln._

WASHINGTON, Feb. 4th, 1862.

_To the Editers of The Cawcashin, New York:_

SURS: I 'spose eenamost everybody believed I wus ded, 'cause they 'aint seen any letters of mine in the papers for a good while. But it taint so. I'me alive, and though I can't kick quite as spry as I used to, yet I kin ride a hossback about as good as I could twenty year ago. I am now nigh on eighty years old, and yet, except getting tuckered out easier than I used to, I believe I feel jest about as smart as I did when I was a boy. The last letters I writ fer the papers was about ten years ago, when I went all around the country with Kossoot, and showed him the sights. Sence then I've been livin' in Downingville, county of Penobscot, State of Maine, and enjoyin' in gineral a good state of helth. But if the public haint heard from me it taint because I wasn't keepin' a close eye on matters and things. But the sartin truth is jest here: I seen, a good while ago, how things was shapin'. I told Kossoot that the pesky Abolishunests would ruin him, and thay did, and I've knowed for a long time that thay would run this country off the Dimokratic track and smash it all to flinders. Wall, they've done it. You may wunder why I haint spoke and told the country all this before. Wall, the reason is jest here: I saw that the breechin' was broke some years ago, and there is no use of talkin or hollerin "whoa!" "whoa!" after that. I've seen the laziest old hoss that ever lived kick and run like all possessed as soon as the shafts tetched his heels, and that's jest the condishun we've been in in this country for some time. We've been kickin' and runnin' and raisin' the old scratch ginerally for ten years, all about these darned kinky-heded niggers. As there is no use of tryin' to stop a runaway hoss after the breechin' brakes until he gets to the bottom of the hill, so there is no use of talkin' to a country while it is goin' in the same direcshun. Didn't Noah preech to a hull generashun of aunty-Deluvens, and it warn't any use. They lafed him rite in the face; and cum round him and axed what he intended to do with a boat full of chicken coops, hoss stables, and so on. And at last, when the rain begun to cum down like all possessed, they swore it "warn't much of a freshet arter all." Wall, jest so it is with this generashun. I spect the _aunty_-slaveryites are sum relashun to the _aunty_-Deluvens, and that accounts for their simelur behaveyur.

But I think that we've got most to the bottom of the hill now, and it is about time to get things rited up in some sort of shape. Havin come to this conclushin, about ten days ago I wrote a letter to President Linkin, tellin him how that Gineral Jackson's old friend was yet alive, and that if he wanted my sarvices or advice I would come on to Washington and help him thro'. Wall, I got a letter rite back, in which Linkin said he "was tickled all into a heap to hear that Gineral Jackson's old friend, Major Jack Downing, was still alive, and that he wanted me to cum on to Washington rite off." So I put off, like shot off a shovel, and dident even stop in York a day, or I should have called to see you. The truth is, I'me darned glad I cum. I went rite up to the White House, which looks as nateral as when Gineral Jackson and I lived there, and sent in my keerd. In a minnit the sarvent cum back, and ses he, "walk up." I went up-stairs, and then into Linkin's room, and you never seed a feller gladder to see a man than he was to see me. He got hold of my hand, and ses he, "Major, you are a brick. I've thought a thousand times that if I only had such a friend as Gineral Jackson had in you, that I could git along as easy as snuff. But ye see, Major, all these pollyticens are a set of tarnel hyppercrits, and I hate 'em." And he kept talkin and shakin my hand until I thot hed sprain my rist. So I ses, "Mr. Linkin, I can't stand hard squeezin as well as I used to, so don't hold on quite so hard." Then he apologized, and said "how he was so anxus to see me that he was almost crazy." I told him that "I hed cum to see him through, jist as I did Gineral Jackson, and that I would stick by him as long as their was a shirt to his back, if he would only do rite."

"Wall," ses he, "Major, that is jist what I want to do. But its awful hard work to tell what is rite. Here I am pulled first one way and then tother."

Now, ses I, "Linkin, I'me goin to talk rite out to you. The fact is, there never was a President that had such a party at his back as you've got. You see its made up of old Whigs, Abolitionists and free sile Dimmycrats. Now, there ain't any more rale mixture to this conglommyrate than there is to ile and water. The truth is, I'd as soon take Illinoy muck, and Jersey mud, and Massachusetts cobble stuns to make a fine coat mortar of, as I would to get such materials to put into a pollytical party. You can't never make them gee."

"Wal," ses he, "Major, I've began to think that way myself. The truth is, I've been trying all summer to please everybody, and the more I try to do it the more I don't succeed. When I am conservative, then the aunty-slaveryites come down on me like all possessed, with old Hor_ass_ Gree_lie_ at their hed. When I go a little t'other way, then the conservatives and my old neighbors, the Kentuckians, they come down upon me, and that takes me right off the handle. I can't stand it. So you see, Major, I'm in hot water all the time."

"I see your troubles," ses I, "Mr. Linkin, and I'll have to look about some days afore I can get the exact hang of things, but as soon as I do, I'll make matters as clear as a pipe stem."

"Wal," ses he, "Major, I want you to make yourself to hum, and jist call for anything you want."

I told him there warn't but two things that I keered for except victuals, and that was a pipe and tobacco, and jist a little old rye, now and then. That gave him the hint, and Linkin rang a bell, and a sneakin lookin feller, in putty bad clothes, made his appearance. Linkin told him to get some tobacco and the black bottle. The feller soon fetched them in, and Linkin said that that "old rye" was twenty years old, and jist about the best licker he ever drank. He said he found it very good to quiet his nerves after a hard day's work. I told him that that was jist what Gineral Jackson always said--"Did he?" ses Linkin; "Wal," ses he, "I only want to imitate Jackson. That would be glory enough for me."

"Wal, now," ses I, "Linkin, the first thing you must do, in order to be poplar, is to be a military man. That was the way Jackson got up in the world, and if I had never been a Major, I really believe I'de never been heerd of out of Downingville. Now, jist as soon as the people believe you are an officer, with epaulettes on, they'll think you are the greatest man that ever lived."

"Wal," ses Linkin, "I think that is a first chop idea. How can it be carried out?"

"Wal," ses I, "you must get _an appintment on Gin. McClellan's staff_! with the rank of _Kernel_. Nothing short of that will answer at all. Then get a splendid uniform and a fine hoss, and have the papers describe them, and get up pictures, and the shop-keepers will have their windows full of lithographs, and in six months you will be the most poplar man in the country, and sure to be next President."

When I sed that, he jumped right up, and ses he, "Major, you're worth your weight in gold. You have hit the nail right on the head. I'll do it; by the Eternal, I'll settle this trouble yet."

"That's the talk," ses I. "Just put your foot down, and let it stay down, and you may be sure it will all come out right."

Then Linkin sed to me, ses he, "Major, take a good swig of this old rye. If you feel sick, have got a cold, or looseness in the bowells, or need physic, or have got the rheumatiz, or pane in the back, or the headache, there's nothen like old rye to set you on your pins just as good as new. Why, Major, let me tell you a story:--There was a feller out West, who got a splinter in his foot. He was splittin' rails one day, and the axe glanced off, and sent a piece of chestnut timber in his heel about as big as an axe-handle. Wal, he tried everything on 'arth. Finally, he came to me, and I gave him some old rye, and the splinter came out in five minutes afterwards."

"Wal," ses I, "Linkin, that is a purty good story, and old rye is a capital drink, but as for medicin', giv' me my old stuff, elderberry bark tea. It's handy to use. Scrape it downwards, and it makes a fust rate fisic, and scrape it upwards it is a capital emetic. The only danger is that you scrape it round-about-ways, when it stirs up a young earthquake in a man's bowells equal to Mount Vesuvius on a bust. Kossoot made a mistake of this kind once, and I had to hed him up in a flour barrel, and roll him round the room afore he cum to."

When Linkin heard how I rolled Kossoot in a flour barrel, he laid back and larfed as hard as he could roar, and said he hadn't felt in such good spirits since he had been in Washington.

I telled him he musn't get the blews, and that I should cheer him up. Then he tuk me by the han' and bid me a very feelin' good-night, and the feller in bad clothes showed me to my room. I slept as sound as a bug in a rug all night, and feel good as new this mornin'.

I shall soon get things straightened out here, I hope, and if anything interestin' happens, you may hear from me agin.

Your friend till deth,

MAJER JACK DOWNING.