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
Secketary, who is your engineer?" "Wal," ses he,
"he's a good trusty man." "But," ses I, "suppose he should bust your
bilers, what would Wall street do then?" "Wal," ses he, "I never
thought of that, but I guess there ain't eny danger." "Wal," ses I,
"steam is mighty onsartin. Old Aunt Keziah Wiggleton, up in Maine, used
to say that the only safe way to run a steamboat was to take the bilers
out, and my opinion is, that a government run by steam will bust up one
of these days." Chase didn't seem to like this last remark much, but he
didn't say enything. We cum down stairs putty soon after, and a feller
with a brown linen coat on, nigh about all over ink, brought a hull lot
of papers covered over with figgers, and sed that Mr. Linkin could find
out all he wanted to from them. I looked 'em over, but I couldn't make
hed nor tail to them. "Wal," ses I, "perhaps a chap who understands
dubble and twisted entry book-keepin' can onderstand this ere
figgering, but I'll be hanged if I kin." Ses I, "Here's seven thirtys,
and five twentys, and six per cents, and five per cents, and bonds and
stocks and sartificates, and '68s, and '78s, and '96s, and 158s, and
Lord knows how many more 8s, until it gets all mixed up so that you
can't tell enything more about the debt than Stantin kin tell how
sojers has been killed and wounded. Now," ses I, "the people don't care
a straw enything about your six twentys, or your five twentys. All they
want to know is jest how much money this ere war has cost, and that is
what I'me tryin' to figger out for em. When old Ginneral Jackson wanted
me to go into Squire's Biddle's Bank and cifer out how matters stood I
soon did it, but that warn't eny more comparin to this here affair,
than the bunch of elder bushes in Deacon Jenkins's meadow is to the
Dismal Swamp. I tuk the papers, however, over to Linkin, for it was the
best I could do. Wen I handed them to the Kernel, ses he, "Majer, does
Chase expect me to survive after studyin out these figgers?" "Wal," ses
I, "Kernel, I don't know, but _I think Chase wants to be next President_."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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