Surs:—Wal, I'm glad to say that Congriss has got together, an the Messige has been red an digested. He wouldn't let Seward or Chase have enything to do with it, but he jest mauled it all out himself. The next day arter the Messige was sent in, Sumnure cum in an sed the Messige warn't exactly grammatikal in all its parts. I telled him that "I guessed ef he had to work around short corners as the Kernel did, without gettin tripped up, he would find it mity hard work to get everything jest according to grammer." I telled him "grammer warn't of eny ackount wile the rebellyun lasted—that, like the Constitushin, the grammer was suspended, or locked up where habus korpus couldn't get at it. In fact," ses I, "Mr. Sumnure, I think that eny man who talks about its bein necessary to obsarve the laws of grammer, or any other laws, wen a nashin is in a deth struggle with traiturs, is a disloyal person, an orter to be sent to Fort La Fieit." Wen I sed this, Sumnure turned all sorts of colors, an ses he, "Wal, Majer, perhaps you're rite about grammer; but I think you orter spell the President's name rite in your letters. It's a disrespect to the Cheef Majestrate not to do it." "Wal," ses I, "Mr. Sumnure, I've got my own idees on spellin. Spellin is a good deel like sparkin the gals—it's jest as a feller takes a noshin. My idee is, ef I spell a word so as to git its sound, I'm rite, an I don't keer wat you say, it's the only rule of spellin that holds good in the long run. Now," ses I, "ef L-i-n-k-i-n don't spell Linkin, what on arth does it spell?" That seemed to stump him. "But," ses he, "Majer, there's some ginneral rules that orter be observed—rules that the schools all use." "Wal," ses I, "I don't know much about schools, an I guess the Kernel don't nether. I went to school six weeks, an the Kernel ses he went six months. School larnin is mity poor truck to put into a feller's hed onless he's got a good deal of brains there. There's more edicated fools now in the world than there are fools of eny other kind, an there's a great menny of them, Lord knows. And," ses I, "it's those edicated fools that make all the trubbil."
"Why, Majer," ses he, "you ain't an enemy to edication, I hope."
"Wal, no, Mr. Senator, I ain't no enemy to edication; I only hate edicated fools."
Ses he, "Majer, what do you mean by edicated fools?"
"Wal," ses I, "wen I was a boy, an went to school the six weeks I speak of, there was a boy in my class who could beat me a spellin an readin, an in eenamost everything, but I could lick him jest as easy as I could whistle. He hadn't eny more spunk, or pluck, or courage than a sick kitten, an mighty little genewine common sense. His father, however, sent him to college, an the fust thing I heerd of him, the papers were callin him a larned man, an he ain't done enything ever sence but to blab at Abolishin meetins an make Abolishin speeches. Now," ses I, "that's wat I call an edicated fool. Jest like the larned pig, he can do wat he larns to do or sees done; but as for real common sense to tell wether a thing is rite or rong, he ain't worth eny more for it than a bull-dog is to catch rats."
Sumnure looked kinder streaked wen I sed this, but I didn't say a word, an jest here the Kernel, who had been down stairs to get his boot-jack, cum in. Ses he, "Good mornin, Mr. Sumnure. I'll bet you one of Chase's greenbacks," ses he, "that you can't tell why this boot-jack is like an offis-seeker." Sumnure sed he couldn't. "Wal," ses the Kernel, "because it sticks close to the heels of the Presidint."
I telled the Kernel how that Sumnure sed that the Messige warn't grammatikal. "Wal," ses he, "I beleeve everything goes rong sence I became Presidint. The country is upside down; the niggers are more trubbul than ever before; the white men are cuttin one another's throats, an it seems as if Bedlam was let loose; an now the grammer has been violated, they say. Wal, I wonder wat on arth I am fit for. I never succeeded well in flat-botein; I allers had poor craps wen I tried to be a farmer; I was too tall to split rails handy; and, as a lawyer, I warn't enything more than from poor to middlin. Ef I can't be Presidint, I don't see wat on arth I was made for."
"Wal," ses I, "Kernel, perhaps you are like the old Quaker's dog." Ses he, "How was that, Majer?" "Wal," ses I, "I'll tell you the story. Up in Maine, not far from Downingville, there used to live an old Quaker named Hezekiah Peabody. He had a yaller dog that was allus loungin around the house. One day Sol Hopkins, a rough old feller, cum along, an ses he, 'Mr. Peabody, I want a dog to hunt foxes. Do you think your dog is good for foxes?' 'Now,' ses the Quaker, 'neighbor Solomon, I never tried the dog on foxes for the huntin of any animals is not my business; but if thee wishes a dog for foxes, accordin to the Scripters, this dog must be a good dog for foxes.' 'Wal, will you warrant him a good dog for foxes?' 'I cannot do that, neighbor Solomon, for I never tried him on foxes; but, accordin to the Scripters, thee can be sure the dog is good for foxes.' So old Sol, thinkin that Scripter proof must be good, give the Quaker five dollars for the dog. He took him hum, an the next day he saw a fox runnin across one of his lots. So he called the dog an showed him the fox, but he wouldn't stir an inch after him. This made old Sol terribul mad, an the next day he took the dog back to the Quaker, an ses he, in his rough way: 'Mr. Peabody, this dog is not worth a dam!' 'Tut, tut, neighbor Solomon, thee shouldn't speak profanely with thy lips.' 'That may be,' ses old Sol, 'but didn't you tell me that this dog was good for foxes.' 'No, neighbor Solomon, I think not. I said accordin to Scripters he must be good for foxes.' 'Wal,' ses old Sol, 'how do you make that out?' 'Wal, neighbor, the Scripters say, "that there is nothin made in vain," an as I had tried that dog on everything else except fox-huntin, I thought that that must be what he was made for!' "Now," ses I, "Kernel, I hope it won't turn out that you are like the old Quaker's dog, 'made in vain,' or, as old Sol. Hopkins expressed it, 'not worth a d——!' but," ses I, "ef you don't restore this Union before your term expires, the people will think that you were a good deal worse than the Quaker's dog, for if he warn't good for enything, he didn't do any particular harm."
The Kernel didn't seem to like this story much, for ses he, "Majer, I think you are getin kinder personel." Ses I, "No, Kernel; I don't mean to be, but you know stories sometimes will fit closer than you think for when you begin to tell 'em."
Jest here Seward cum in, an with his church-yard smile, ses he, "Good mornin, Mr. President. I've got good news from England. There won't be any intervenshin now, an the rebellyun will all be over in 60 days. My friend Weed thinks so, too."