White Men! White Men! Sure as you're born,
The crows are going to take your corn!
They surround your fields on every tree,
And they blacken the sky as far as we see.
Lubly Rosa! Sambo stay,
In the land of Dixie,
Far away."
Linkin laughed at it when I got thru, an sed it done very well for some sore-hed Dimmycrat, but that Whittiur could write one on 'tother side that this would not be a primin to. I telled him Whittiur might make better poetry, but I doubted whether ther would as much truth in it as this had.
Linkin ses he wants me to study up the finances for him. He ses the debt is gettin fearful, an as I am good at cyferin, he ses I must try to help him out on that subject. He wants to put it in his nex message. It is some time since I did such work, but if I feel like it, I will go into it, an will write you how I get along.
Your frend,