Letters of Major Jack Downing, of the Downingville MilitiaSmith, Seba
History
Letters of Major Jack Downing, of the Downingville Militia
Smith, Seba
Lincoln, Abraham, 1809-1865 -- Caricatures and cartoons; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Humor
SURS:--If I ain't been bizzy sence I writ you last, then never a man
was. Besides, I've had a considerabul twinge of my old inemy, the
rheumatiz. This ere Washington atmosfere is terribul on the
constitushin. The Kernel, too, was nigh about down sick one day; but we
both tuk a good, old-fashioned wiskey-sling, of the very best Old Rye,
and went to bed on it. The next mornin we both felt fust rate. The
Kernel keeps as good wiskey as I ever got enywhere. We have been very
hard at work on the messige, and such a time as we have had of it you
never did see. Stantin don't know how meny sojers he has got in the
field, nor how meny have been killed or wounded. Grandfather Welles
can't tell how meny gunbotes he's got, an as for Chase, he don't
purtend to even guess for a certainty how many greenbacks there are
aflote, or how big the public debt is. The Kernel sed he couldn't even
lay the foundashin timbers of his messige until he had some figgers
about the debt to begin on. So I told him I would go over an see Chase
an have a talk with him. I tuk my slate under my arm an started. Soon
as I went in Chase tuk me by the hand an sed he was rale down rite glad
to see me. I telled him what I wanted, an he sed he would soon have it
reddy for me, but jest then he asked me to go up-stairs an see the
macheenery an printin presses, and so on, that he had got to make
money. He sed the worst of it was that the machenes was constantly
gettin out of order, and he wanted to know if I understood anything
about sich affairs. I telled him there warnt nothing, from
squirrel-traps to dog-churns and thrashing macheenes, that I didn't
know from stem to starn. Then he sed I was jest the chap he wanted. So
I went with him, and I was perfectly thunderstruck when I saw all the
riggin, and fixins, and belts, and shafts, and pulleys, and machenes
all a runnin and whizzin and buzzin, as fast as they could go. Ses the
Secketary, "This here macheen runs to pay off Gineral Grant's troops.
This one runs to pay off Gineral Meade's troops. This one runs for
Gineral Banks. This one is now bizzy for Gineral Burnside, and here is
this ere one completely broken down. It is Gineral Gilmore's macheen!"
"Wal," ses I, "Mr. Secketary, do you have a macheen for every Gineral
and every army?" "Yes," ses he, "about that." "Wal," ses I, "what do
you do about the contracters?" "Oh," ses he, "I ain't showed you them
yet. That's in another room." Ses he, "Come along with me." So I
follered, and we went off into another room. It was nigh about ten
times as big as the first one, and there were hundreds of presses
runnin' as fast as they could go. "There," ses he, "if these here
machenes were to stop one day, it would set all Wall street into a
panic. Sometimes, when the belts give out or the bolts break, or the
coal gits short, or paper don't git in in time, there is a good deal of
troubil, but I've got it so fixed now that I keep 'em putty well
supplied." Ses I, "Mr.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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