The other day the Kernel had a call from some nigger preachers. He sent for 'em to have a talk about seein whether they wouldn't consent to go to Centril America, but they didn't seem to like it much. They sed they would think about it and report. I told the Kernel that when he got niggers to immigrate, that the next thing he could do would be to get the kinks out of their hair. Ses he, "Why not, Majer?" "Wal," ses I, "because it ain't their natur." Ses I, "Kernel, you talk to these niggers jest as if they were white people, all except their color. You seem to think that they will do something for their posterity, sacrifice something, but they won't. The nigger only cares for the present. The mulattoes have some of the talents of the white men, but the nigger not a bit."
"Now, Majer," ses Linkin, "you are prejudiced. Don't all the great men of the world, all the larned men of Europe, and all Christian phylanthropists, don't they all consider it the highest duty to try an elevate the black race?" "Now," ses I, "Kernel, I don't care a blue postage stamp for all the great men in the world. A little plain mother wit I have always found better than a stack of book larnin, an ef any one will jest take up the nigger race an study it out practically, they will see that it has allers been the same uncivilized, heathin people when white folks did not have control of 'em. You send 'em to Centril America, an in a gineration or so they will be again eatin lizards an worshipping snakes, as they do in Africa now."
Ses I, "Kernel, there's no peepul in the world so likely to lead you astray as edecated peepul. They are all mad as March hares on this nigger questshin, jest as they were in old Cotton Mather's time on witches. Edecated peepul, Kernel, ain't got any more wit or common sense than other folks, but they try to make you believe they have, an will talk high-falutin words jest to frighten you if they kin. They tried that on the old Ginneral in the days of the Biddle Bank, but they couldn't budge him an inch. One time the bankers and moneylenders and brokers in Wall street, sent on a committee to see the Ginneral, to honey fuggle him into not vetoing the Bank bill. Ogden Huffman, then the greatest orater, an jest the smartest lawyer York had, was sent on as spokesman. He could talk jest as slick as grease, and knew more law in a minnit than the old Ginneral did in all day. One night he staid till almost mornin talkin and talkin, scoldin a little an palaverin a good deal more. The old Ginneral didn't say much, only once in a while puttin in a questshin. Finally Huffman got reddy to go, an axed what the Ginneral thought of the argements he had made. The old Ginneral pushed his spectacles up on his forehead, run his fingers through his hair, an jumpin out of his cheer, walked across the room as if he was tarein mad, rite up to Mr. Huffman. When he got there, ses he, 'Mr. Lawyer, your talk is all very pretty, very eloquent, an very larned with Latin, but (an here he fetched his old hickory down on the floor) I shall veto that Bank of Biddle's, by the Eternal!' You see the old Ginneral couldn't hold a candil to Huffman, as far as larnin an talk went, but he had the genuine common sense that seen rite through the hull subject. So I tell you, Kernel, don't put your trust in edecated peepul. Ef the hull world thinks that you kin make a white man out of a nigger it only shows that the hull world is made up of fools."
"Wal," ses Linkin, "that all may be very true, but you see, Majer, I've got these contrybands on my hands, an I've got to fish or cut bait. We've only got a few thousand free now, an the peepul in the North are in arms to murder 'em ef I send any more there. I shall soon have two wars on my hands ef I don't contrive some plan to get rid of the kinky heads. You, see, Majer, a fire in front an a fire in the rear will be too much of a good thing."
"I see, I see, Kernel," ses I, "you've got to change your base."
"Exactly, Majer, you hit the nail rite on the hed."
"Wal," ses I, "Kernel, I can't give you a bit of advice except what I have all along. Put the negro in his place, an he won't be a bit of trubbel to you, but as long as you try to get along with him out of his place, you'll be in hot water. As for goin to Centril America, they won't go thar eny sooner than they will to Kamscatky."
"Wal," ses Linkin, ses he, "if they won't do that, we shall all pretty soon be in a nice kittle of fish."
"Wal," ses I, "Kernel, can you tell me how you think this war is goin to end?"
"Wal, Major, I can't exactly see through the hull subject yet, but I'll tell you a story that about expresses my present idees of the subject. One night at a tavern out in Illinoy, two drunken men were sent to sleep in the same room. Now there was two beds in the room, but they were so drunk that they both got in one bed, but did not know it. No sooner in than one sung out to the other, 'I say, Bill, some feller is in my bed.' The other sung out in reply, 'I say, Jim, some feller is in my bed, too.' After swearing at the landlord for a while for not givin 'em single beds, Bill sung out, 'I say, Jim, I'm goin to kick my feller out of bed.' Wal, ses Bill, so am I.' So at it they went, kickin like all possessed, until both of 'em lay sprawlin out on the floor. They had kicked themselves out of bed! Now, Major, I guess that will be jest about how this war will end. The way we're goin on, both the North an the South will kick one another out of bed before they stop, and out of house and home, too."