The Major visits Parson Blair—The Loyal Leagues of the White House—A Wonderful Dream—The Grave of the Union—The President Don't Like It—About Leather—How the Capital Looks.
Washinton, Jan. 30, 1864.
To the Editers of The Dabook:
Surs:—I spose your readers think I'm dead, or mebby they think I've run away with a pile of greenbacks, as that is kinder fashionabul now-a-days; but I aint in neithur fix. The rale truth is that after I writ you my last letter I got completely disgusted and cum mitey nigh goin back hum to Downingville, and vowin I would never return to this sink of sin agin. But the Kernel got at me and begged I wouldn't think of it. I telled him I couldn't stay in the White House over New Years, and see the knaves and fools that would be there then. So jest before Christmas, as good luck happened, old Fathur Blair axed me to go down to his place at Silvur Springs and stay ovur the hollidays. I tell you I was rale glad, fur the old man has got a fine place, and I could have it so quiet and cozy there aftur my hard work ovur the message. When I got there I was tuk down with the rumatiz, and had to keep my room for more than two weeks. Howevur, the Kernel sent me some prime old rye, and that, together with some operdildock that old Aunt Keziah Wiggleton sent to me by my nefu Zeke put me on my pins agin. Old Father Blair and I had long talks about Ginneral Jackson and the Kernel, the war, niggers, the next presidency, and so on. My old friend Blair was a grate man in Ginneral Jackson's time, but the trubbel with him now is that he don't move along with the world. He actually thinks that he is yet fitin Calhoun, an havin got in the bote with the Abolishenists, he don't know how to get out. Last week I cum back to see the Kernel, and have been looking around for a few days to see how the land lay. I find that the principel idee in everybody's hed is, who's to be the next President. But I tell you when I look at the condishun of the country, it makes me sick to talk about a President. What is the use of a President when there's a standin army? What is the use of a President when the ballot-box aint of half so much account as the cartridge-box? The first day I got back to the White House there was a lot of Loyel Legers and shoddy contractors cum to tell the Kernel that they had nominated him for President. After they went out Linkin ses to me, ses he, "Majer, what do you think of them fellows?" "Wal," ses I, "they look to me mean enough to steal niggers." The Kernel did not say anything, but looked kinder cross-eyed at me. The Kernel and I then had a long talk about matters and things, and after taking a good swig of old rye, went to bed. That nite I had a wonderful dream. The next mornin, when I went in the room where the Kernel was, ses he, "Majer, you look oncommon serious this mornin; what's the matter?" "Wal," ses I, "I had a wonderful dream last nite, that eenamost frightened me to deth." "Wal," ses he, "what on earth was it?" "Wal," ses I, "if I tell you the hull of it jest as it appeared to me, you musn't get mad." "Oh," ses the Kernel, "I don't keer nothin about dreams, for I allers interpret them by contraries." "Wal," ses I, "you can cypher out the meanin of it yourself to suit yourself, but I'll tell it to you jest as it appeared to me, and it seemed to me as plain as if it was broad daylight." "Wal," ses I, "I thought I was in the grave-yard, and there was a great big grave dug, large enough to hold four or five coffins, and while I was standing there wonderin what on earth the grave was for, I saw a big black hearse comin, and Stantin was driving it. That kinder startled me; but I looked agin, and I see it was bein drawn by them War Dimmycrats, Dickinson, Butler, Meagher, Cochrane, and the hearse itself was marked 'War Dimmycracy.' When Stantin druv up to the grave, ses he, 'My jack-=asses had a heavy load, but they pulled it through bravely,' for the poor War Dimmycrats had heads of men on the bodies of mules. I wondered what on airth could be in the hearse, for it seemed to be heavily loaded. Right behind the hearse, walkin along, were you and Sumner, and Greeley, and Chase, and Beecher, and old Grandfather Welles. Pretty soon you all went to work takin out the coffins, and gettin ready to put them in the grave. The first one tuk out was marked 'habeas corpus,' the second one 'trial by jury,' then 'the Union,' and then 'the Constitution.' When they were all out on the ground, some dispute riz as to which should be buried first, but Greeley cut it short by sayin, 'put the Constitution under, and all else follows.' So Greeley got the rope under one end of the coffin and Sumner under the other, and begun to let it down. While it was goin down, you looked kinder anxious at Chase, and ses you, 'Chase, think it will stay down?' And old Greenbacks, ses he, 'My God, Kernel, it must stay down, or we will all go up.' Greeley was tickled eenamost to death, and ses he, 'We shall bury it now so that it shall never be heerd of agin.' Old Grandfather Welles, however, seemed half frightened to deth, and trembled like a sick dog, and ses, 'Oh! that it was all over.' Sumner was wrathy at this, and ses he, 'Shut up, you old fool; wait until it is all under.' And there, too, stood Beecher, with a nigger baby in his arms, lookin up to heaven and prayin all the while, as follows: 'Oh! Lord, not thy will but mine be done.' Finally, all the coffins were put in the grave and covered up. I wondered where Seward could be all this time, and lookin up, there he was, flyin through the air with wings, and tails, and horns, lookin for all the world like an evil spirit, and ses he, 'If 'twere done, when it is done,' just as if he was afraid that a day of resurrection was comin. I tell you, it made me feel sorrowful and sad when I saw the old Constitution and the Union put under the ground, out of sight, and when I woke up, my eyes were full of tears, and I felt more like cryin than I have sence I was born."
The Majer's Wonderful Dream. The Grave of the Union.—Page 250.
After I got thru, ses I, "Kernel, what do you think of my dream?" He looked down on the floor, and then looked up, then he looked down agin and then he looked up. I see he was kinder worried, so I said nothin. Finally, he kicked his slipper off, and ses he, "Majer, do you know what good lether is?" "Wal," ses I, "Kernel, I used to know something about lether." "Wal," ses he, "what do you think of the lether in that slipper. Is it good?" "Yes," ses I, "I think it's pretty good." "Wal," ses he, "what kind is it?" Ses I, "It's calf-skin." "Wal," ses he, "kin you tell me whether the calf was a heifer or a steer?" "No," ses I, "I can't." "Wal," ses he, "I'm in jist the same fix about your dream. It is a good dream, but I can't tell whether it's a heifer or a steer. But I ruther reckon it's a steer!"
"Wal," ses I, "Kernel, you may think that my dream don't amount to anythin, but there are thousands of people who will see in it the fate of their country."
He didn't seem disposed to talk about it, however, and I let it drop. Since then I've been over to the Capitol once or twice, and looked around Washington a leetle. I never see such a change in a place since I was born. It's dirtier, nastier, and meaner lookin than ever. In fact, it is just like the country, all goin to ruin. If the devil is ever happy, I think he would be nigh about tickled to deth now-a-days. I guess everything is goin on to suit him to a fracshin. I kin tell you one thing. There is goin to be a bigger fite between Linkin and Chase for President than most pepil suppose. So look out for the musick ahed. I shall keep a watch on all the doins, and write you when the rumatiz, like the greenback market, aint too stringent.
Majer Jack Downing.