Part 12 (1/2)
To which the Kernel replied:
”Kernel Doolittle: I can't begin to express to you the feelins of my hart. This occas.h.i.+n is techin. Sojers can't make speeches. I've dun my duty. I've seen the cannons roar. I've heard the flash of a thousand rifles all at once. There ain't nothin that can equal it for rite down tall sublimity. But, feller-citizens, we ought to be most rejoiced now because freedom is going it at such big licks. I'me a manifest destiny man. I believe freedom is to extend from the frozen planes of Alabama to the sunny banks of Newfoundland. There ain't nothin kin stop it. It is comin like an avalanche from the eternal hills of Giberalter.
Freedom! freedom! will resound from creas.h.i.+n come to pullin turnip time, an all the hopples that bind the legs of American citizens of Afriken 'scent will fall off. Them's my sentiments, and I don't keer who knows 'em. The old Union ain't of any more ackount in these 'ere times than an iron pot with a hole in the bottom. Wat we want is a new Union which will have for its motto the celebrated words of Daniel Webster, 'Freedom and n.i.g.g.e.rs--now and forever--one and inspirable.'”
”Amen,” yelled out Deacon Jenkins, who had been listenin' attentively, as the Kernel sat down, and the hull audience broke out into the most tumultuous applause. There is a little mistake in Kernel Doolittle's speech, where he speaks of Kernel Stebbins being covered with the dust an blood of the battle-field. Now, the truth was, the Kernel, with his new uniform, looked as if he had jest c.u.m out of a band-box, but Kernel Doolittle had his speech writ out, an he couldn't alter it. Kernel Stebbins got on such high hosses, that he talked about seeing the boomin' of cannon an hearin' the flash of guns, but the truth was, he didn't know exactly what he said an the people were so carried away with havin' a live Kernel among them, that they didn't notice it. There ain't been nothin' talked of in Downingville sence the Kernel's return, except his receps.h.i.+n. Elder Sniffles preached a sarmon on it, takin'
for his text ”There shall be wars an rumors of wars,” an provin from the Bible that war is the duty of all real, genuine Christians. So, you see, there ain't a more loyal place in the country, unless it be Was.h.i.+nton, where all the office-holders an contractors live. But I must close. I did't expect to write you but a few lines this time. If I go to Was.h.i.+ngton, I will let you into the secrete of the Blair and Chase rumpus, an keep you posted up ginerally on things behind the curtin.”
Yours, till deth,
MAJER JACK DOWNING.
LETTER XXVII.
_The Major Starts for Was.h.i.+ngton--Takes his Axe with him--Mr. Lincoln glad to see him--The Cabinet in Session--The opinion of Seward, Chase, Stanton and others--The Major called on for an opinion--The Story of Old Sam Odum--Mr. Stanton gets Excited._
WAs.h.i.+NGTON, Nov. 6, 1863.
_To the Editers of The Dabook:_
The very next day after I writ you my last letter, I got one from Linkin, tellin me I must c.u.m on without fail. He said he was in a peck of trubbil about his messige--that Chase an Seward were pullin rite in contrary direcs.h.i.+ns, an what to do he didn't know. So I jest packed up my things, took my pipe in my mouth an my old hickery in my hand, and started. I strapped my axe on the outside of my trunk, for this is the only weepin, besides my hickory cane, that I ever carry. Goin down to the cars I met Deacon Jenkins, who went on to Was.h.i.+nton, you recollect, to make the Kernel's sojer clothes, an ses he, ”Majer, what are you takin your axe with you to Was.h.i.+nton for?” ”Wal,” ses I, ”Deacon, I expect I shall get awful, tarin mad with them Abolitionists this winter in Was.h.i.+nton, an ther ain't eny way that I kin work off a fit of that kind except by goin out to the wood-house an choppin wood. So I determined to take along my axe. It is one the old Ginneral used when he got mad, an I have always preserved it to remember him, ef nothin else.”
I got to Was.h.i.+nton all safe, an went direct to the White House. The feller who tends the door didn't know me at first; but when he saw my hickery he began to open his eyes, I tell you. Ses he, ”You are Majer Downing, I believe,” bowin like and sc.r.a.pen his feet, as ef he thought I keered for that. Ses I, ”Yes, I'm Majer Jack Downing, an you jest tell the President, about as quick as time will let you, that I'm here.” So he run up-stairs, an I went after him, stoppin in the room where the offis-seekers have to wait, to take a good look down the Potomack to see ef things looked nateral. I hadn't stood there more than a minit when who should c.u.m up behind me but Linkin himself. He caught rite hold of my hand, an ses he, ”Majer, how are you? I'm tickled to deth to see you;” an he kept shaken my hand as ef he thought it was made of lether. Ses I, ”Kernel, do you want me to help write your messige?” Ses he, ”Of course I do, Majer.” ”Wal, then,” ses I, ”please don't shake that hand eny more, for you've pretty nigh mashed it now.” ”Wal,” ses he, ”Majer, I couldn't help it, for it seems as ef Providence sent you jest in the nick of time.” Ses I, ”How is that?”
”Wal,” ses he, ”the Cabynet is in session, an I've just finished tellin them one of Artemus Ward's best stories, an got 'em all into a good humor. The messige is the very thing they met to discuss, an you're c.u.m rite in the nick of time,” hittin me, as he spoke, a slap on the back that made the cold chills run over me.
Nothin would do but I must go in and hear the discuss.h.i.+n. So I walked in as large as life. I knew 'em all, an they all knew me. They pretended to be rale glad to see me, perticularly Stantin; but he needn't try to deceeve me, for under them spectacles of his I see a pair of hyena eyes. I tell you that that man will bear watchin.
However, I sed nothin; but after the how-do-doos were over, I laid my old hickery on the table, took out my pipe, an went to smokin. The Kernel then called the meetin to order, an sed he wanted a short ackount of each department, so he could fix up his messige, an he also wanted the opinion of each one as to what he thought ought to be done with the southern States after the rebellyon is crushed. Fust, he called upon Seward.
Wal, Seward said that furrin affairs were all rite; that he had offered to carry out the policy of England all over the country, an set up a monarchy, ef necessary, to put down the Dimmycrats, an that upon his faithfully promising to do this, the British Government at once seized the rebil rams. That as for the southern States, he thought the best thing that could be done with them, for the good of the country an the grate cause of humanity, was to turn 'em all into one big plantation an make Thurlow Weed Chief Manager.
Then Chase spoke. He sed the finances were in a flouris.h.i.+ng condis.h.i.+n.
He now had five hundred printin presses to work makin money; that the debt warn't only $5,000,000,000,000; that every body was gettin rich, an that the way to treat the southern States an save the country was just this: Issue a Proclamas.h.i.+n that only jest enough cotton should be raised for him to print greenbacks on, an then he could control the currency in spite of all the copperhead gold speculaters in creas.h.i.+n.
Stantin sed that his department was all right. That he had got rid of all the copperhed ginrals, and had left the track clear for the next President to be a genuine Abelis.h.i.+nist. That all that was necessary now was to keep the war up till after the next Presidential elecs.h.i.+n, and he thought he could do it. As for the southern States, he was for givin the n.i.g.g.e.rs the plantations and makin the whites their slaves.
Then old grandfather Welles got up, strokin his long white beard. He sed that nothin could save the nas.h.i.+n but gunboats; that he was buildin one a day now, except on the Sabbath, which he piously devoted to prayin an fastin, and to dividin the contracks among his relas.h.i.+ns. He thought the South ought to be surrounded with a wall of gunboats from Texas to Maryland.
The next one that spoke was Blair. He said he hadn't stopped a single paper durin' the hull year, an he was only sorry that he ever did; that he had only given the papers he stopped more circulas.h.i.+n than they ever had before; that no one would ever catch him into another such a sc.r.a.pe. As for the southern States, he was down on all the Radikels. He sed they might be allowed to c.u.m back jest as they wanted to.
When it c.u.m Daddy Bates' turn, he was fast asleep. When Linkin told him what he wanted, he sed it warn't for him to say what should be done with the Southern States. After it was decided what to do with 'em, he supposed they would want a legal opinion on the subject, an he could give one on either side, he did'nt care which.
After they had all got thru, Linkin turned to me, an ses he, ”Majer, what do you think about this matter?” I knocked the ashes out of my pipe, and ses I, ”Wal, I don't like to give an opinion on the jump, for I hain't had time yet to see exactly how the land lays here; but,” ses I, ”as near as I understand it, all these men here are tryin to catch the South first, and then what to do with her afterwards is another question. Now, the South seems to be a good deal like old Sam Odum, up in Maine, when he thought the devil was after him. One night he got to dreaming, and jumped out of bed in his s.h.i.+rt, and ran like all possessed down the street. About a half a dozen neighbors chased him until he run up a tree, out of which they couldn't get him anyhow. He kept a screaming ”the devils are after me,” and would fite like a tiger if any one tried to get at him. Finally, old Deacon Peabody c.u.m along, and ses he, ”Sam thinks you fellers are the devils that are goin to ruin him; you jist go away and let him alone, and Sam will be hum and in bed afore morning.” They tuk his advice, and sure enough, so it was.”
When I sed this, Stantin, who is quick as a flash, jumped up, an ses he, ”Majer, do you mean to say that we are devils tryin to catch the South?” an he walked rite close up to my face, jest as if he thought he could bully me down. Ses I, ”Mr. Secketery, if you will stand back about six inches, you kin see an hear jest as well.” He stepped back a little, an I picked up my old hickery, an ses I, ”Stantin, do you recollect the time down to Fort Munroe when you tried to get on the President's trowsers?” I never see a feller wilt so as when I sed this.