Chapter IV: Letter II

_Deacon Jenkins, of Downingville, Sent for to Cut and Make the President's Uniform--A Provoking Accident--Mr. Lincoln Tells a Story--The Major as a "Commentater" on the Constitution--Mrs. Lincoln's Party--"Insine Stebbins, of the Downingville Insensibles, Writes a Paradox for the Occasion"--The Major gets Angry--Lincoln Tells a Story About Virginia Mud._

WASHINGTON, Feb. 15, 1862.

_To the Editers of The Cawcashin_:

SURS:--Didn't I tell you that, as soon as I got here, I would straiten things out? You never see a happier man, now-a-days, than Linkin is. When I cum here he was eenamost reddy to go into a hasty consumpshin. He had been lettin things go on at loose eends, with two or three fellers managing things, and they were eternally pullin' jest as many ways. Linkin had been in the habit of sayin' that he warnt no military man. I telled him he must stop that at onct--that he knowed jest as much as eny of 'em. So when I told him he must be a Kernel, he at once went in for it. Wal, I hev bin jist as busy as a bee in a tar bucket gettin' his solger clothes reddy. I sent clear to Maine to get Deacon Jenkins, who made all the clothes for the Downingville Insensibles, and he arrived here last week. It ain't no easy matter to cut for Linkin's figer, but I knowed the Deacon could do it, if eny body on arth could. But Deacon Jenkins, you see, is a small, stumpy man, not much longer than he is wide--while Linkin is eenamost as tall as a rail, and mity near as slim. Wal, I hadn't thought of this; so when the Deacon cum he couldn't measure Linkin round the neck for a military stand up coller, eny more than he could climb a been pole. Linkin sed he'd git down on his nees, or on all fores, if necessary, but I wouldn't let him, 'cause it would be wantin' in dignity. So I got two cheers, and laid a board acrost 'em, and Deacon Jenkins got up on 'em. While he was standin' ther, the board broke, and down come the Deacon rite on the floor, makin' the White House all shake agin. He turned dredful red in the face, but Linkin sed "it warnt a suckemstance to a fall he onct had out of a chestnut tree. He sed, when he was a boy he used to go out, and jest for a breakfast spell split a load of rails. One mornin' he clumb a tree to get some young crows out of a nest, and the lim broke and down he cum full thirty feet. Sum people thought he was ded, but he allers believed it was the resin he was so tall, for he started groin rite off after that, and didn't stop till he was six feet five inches!"

By the time Linkin got tru tellin' his story, the Deacon hed got up on the cheers agin and tuk the measure. Then he hed the clothes made, and in three days they cum hum all rite. Wal, I wish the hull country could see the Kernel (I call him Kernel all the time now) in his new clothes. He looks like a new man, and, what is more, he acts like a new one.

The other day I telled him he must giv the orders to the new Seckretary of War, but he kinder held back, and sed he didn't like tu take too much on his shoulders at onct. Besides, he didn't feel it was right for a Kernel tu dictate in that way. Then I telled him that the place was only a complimentery one, but that he was raley a Ginneral and a Commydore all in one. Wal, he sed "he couldn't see intu that." Them I telled him how that the Constetushin sed that he was "Commander-in-Cheef of the Army and Navy," and that that made him a Ginneral and a Commydore. Wen I sed that, he jumped out of his cheer and ses he, "Majer, you are jest about the keenest commentater on the Constetushin I ever heerd talk. Why, Majer, ef I had only thought of that, I would hev put it into my Inaugerole. Wouldn't it hev made a sensashin?"

Wal, ever since the Kernel has tuk the ribbins into his hands, he has been puttin' things rite thru, and victeries hev cum along jest as fast as possibul. Linkin is a terribul feller to work wen he has a mind to. He run Secketary Stantin into a fit of the vertegris the very furst week he went into the harniss, and as for the other members of the Cabbynet, there ain't one that kin hold a kandil to him.

Ther's bin a terribul time about the financies since I hev bin here; but the victeries in Kentuckee and Rowingoak hev made a good many long faces look as good-natured as ef the Union was all rite agin. I telled Ginneral Wilsin, from Massa-chew-sits, the other day, that he orter vote a gold meddle to the President in honer of the good noose, but Somnure wanted to insart the Wilmut Proviso in the bill, and so I wouldn't hev nothin to du with it. I don' expec' that, after all, they'll be willin' to giv' Linkin the credit he desarves, for ther' ain't a man here, from a Senatur in Congriss down to a sargant of the hoss mareens, who don't expec' tu be next President.

Wall, I hev run on so about politicks and so forth, that I eenamost forgot to tell you about Mrs. Linkin's party. I've seen a good many big things in that way sence I was a boy, but this was a leetle ahead of all. The sojers, and the wimmen, and the cabbynet, and the forren Ministers Pennitenshery, with their Seckateries of Litegashin, were all ther. The tables were all kivered over with sugar frost, eenamost as white as a Maine snow bank, and Mrs. Linkin luked like a young gal jest out of schule. The way she did intertane the kumpany was a caushin to peepul who don't know the ropes. Insine Stebbins, of the Downingville Insensibles, was ther, and ef ther is a smart feller in the army, the Insine is one. He kin rite poetry almost equil to Longfeller, and as for singin', the Italian band-ditty can't begin with him. Wen the kumpany were sot down to the table, Deacon Jenkins was kalled on to say grace, and wen they got thru, the hull kumpany kalled on Insine Stebbins to sing a paradox which he had kumposed specially for the occashin, as follers:

From Varmount's icy mountins,
From licker hatin' Maine,
Where streems of goldin wisky
Go strate agin the grane;
From menny a country cawkis,
From menny a country shop,
We cum to greet thee, Linkin,
At this here Linkin hop!

Wot tho' the Nor'-West breezes
Blow sum o'er Georgetown hill,
And likewise also freezes
The troops at Turner's Mill?
Wat tho' the army hosses
Die off for want of food?
We'll drink Old Rye with Abram,
Because Old Rye is good.

Wot tho' the Yankee nashin
Pores out the warlike flud,
And sogers of all stashin
Are stashined in the mud?
Wot tho' the sly contracters
Defraud us rite and left,
And Uncle Sam's old stockin'
Of all his cash is reft?

Wot tho' the taxis plague us,
And heeps of corn must spile,
Wile poor folks three times over
Their coffee-grounds must bile?
Does not grate Dr. Cheever,
(And shall he speke in vain?)
Command us to delivur
The land from slavery's chane?

Shall we whose harts are litened
With Rye, and cake and wine,
Shall we to Cuff and Dinah
Give nought but crust and rine?
Abolition! Abolition!
The joyful sound proclame,
Till each remotest nigger
Has learned the Linkin name!

"Amen! seel-er!" yelled out Deacon Jenkins, at the very tip-top of his voice, wile nigh about the hull kumpany seemed to be hily tickled, except Linkin and his wife and me. I was so mad that I eenamost bust my biler. I went rite strate up to the Insine, and ses I, "Insine Stebbins, I knowed you and Deacon Jenkins was both red-hot Abolishunests, but I tho't all the folks in Downingville had kommun sence, and wood know better than to interduce pollyticks on a festiv occashin, specially anything faverabul to Cheever and Gree-lie and kumpany, who are the hull time abusin' Linkin and Mrs. Linkin." Then the Insine said that Sumnure had helped him rite the paradox, jest on purpose to see how Linkin wood like it. "Wal," I told him, "that that was jest as much sence as well as manners as I shud expect from Sumnure." Then Deacon Jenkins cum up and sed sumthing, and I lit on him for hollerin' "Amen" rite afore the hull diplomatick core, jest as ef he'd been at a prayer meetin' in the Downingville schule house. Mrs. Linkin was very much pleased at the way I laid down the law to the Deacon. The Kernel didn't say much, but looked daggers out of his ize, and seemed nigh about as cross as a cross-cut saw all the rest of the evenin'. The bawl, how-sumever, went off in all other respecs in furst rate stile, and Mrs. Linkin is now regarded as the very a-leet of fashin.

There's not much else that's new this week. The roads have been in an impassabul condishin for some time, and unless some feller kin invent a patent rite for settin' them up edge ways to drene, I don't believe they'll be scasely settled before the summer solstis. I telled Linkin I never seed such mud in my born days. "Wal," ses he, "let me tell you a story about mud. Virginny can't hold a kandel to Illinoy in that respect. One time a man was travellin' 'long the road jest a little nor-east of Springfield, wen he found a hat layin' in the mud, rite in the middel of the road. He stepped out keerful to get it, and he was all struck up a heep to find a man's hed under it, and he in the mud clean up to his very chin. 'Darn my pectur, nabor, if you ain't in a fix. Cum, let me git hold of you, and I'll help pull you out.' 'No! No!' sed the feller in the mud, spittin' out the dirty water; 'No! No! I don't want your help--much ableeged to you--for I've got a good hoss under me, and he'll fetch me out as sure as preachin!'"

"Wal," ses I, "Kernel, I shan't try to match that story to-day." The truth is, that I didn't feel like it. I've bin kinder under the wether since the bawl. Washington is a terrible place for nager and fever, and all kinds of billyus kemplantes. One of the President's leetle shavers has bin dangrus sick for sum daze, but I hope he'll rekiver.

I got yuere letter tellin' me that sum of yuere subscriburs wanted me to rite a letter every week for yuere paper. Wal, I will, if I kin, but I can't promis sartin. You see an old man nigh on eighty years old don't feel jest limber enuf to rite at any and all times, but wenever I hevn't got the lumbager or rumatiz, and my ideas ain't froze up, you'll heer from me, once in two weeks, and perhaps oftener, wen the weather gets more stedy.

Your friend,

MAJER JACK DOWNING.