_The Major Feels Sorrowful over the Fate of His Country--The Story of
the Black Heifer--The Man who Made a "Siss"--The Union--"Insine"
Stebbins Again--His Reception at Downingville--"The Insensibles"--A
Provoking Accident._
DOWNINGVILLE, March 28, 1863.
_To the Eddyters of The Cawcashin:_
SURS:--You may wonder why you ain't heered from me afore; but the rale
truth is, that I didn't feel like ritin in these times. I went to
Washinton about a year ago, out of pure patriotism. I didn't want a
contrack, nor a commission, nor enything. I went to give the Kernel
good advice, jest as I did Ginneral Jackson; but it warn't no go.
Somnure an Greeley, an Wendil Fillips, an sech stay-at-hum fiten
ginnerals got the advantage of me, an Linkin does jest wat they want
him to. To an old man like me, these are tryin times. I had almost said
_cryin_ times; I can't bear to think of 'em. I dream o'nights of my
country, wen it was all peace an happiness--wen ther warn't any sojers
nor standin army to pay, nor no debt, nor no hospitals full of sick
sojers, nor no sorrow or misery in the land; an wen I wake up an think
how different it is now, I wish I could sleep all the time. The other
day old Deacon Jenkens came over to see me. The Deacon, you know, was
with me in Washinton a short time, wen I first went there, and his
darter Jerusha Matilda went down to Port Royal to teach the contrybands
their primmers. Wal, the Deacon ain't much wiser now than he was a year
ago. He still thinks that by prayin an fightin the rebels will yet be
whipped. He used to like the _Tribune_, but lately he ses he prefers
the _Herald_, as it is more truthful. The old man, however, has been
very blue for some time past, and now ses that prayin an fightin hain't
accomplished much. "Wal," ses I, "Deacon, there hadn't orter been eny
war at all; but," ses I, "while the South have had a single end an
purpose, we've been all at odds and ends. The war has been carried on
by us jest like old Sol Pendergrast's boy ploughed. Old Sol took his
oldest boy, Adam, a thick-heded feller, out one Spring, an set him to
ploughin. He told him to go to work an strike a furrow across a field
to a _black heifer_, an then keep on. After givin this direcshin, old
Sol went off to the house an left Adam alone. The boy started his oxen
in a bee line for the _black heifer_, but wen he got pretty clus
to her, she threw up her tail an ran off in another direcshin. Adam
thought he must foller the heifer, no matter where she went; so he
struck another bee line for her, and with jest the same result. Wen he
got clus to her, the heifer give another frisk to her tail, an off she
went. Adam geed his oxen around, and struck for her agin; an so he kept
on all day. At nite the old man cum out to see how Adam had got along.
He found the field all cut up with furrows, zig-zag, criss-cross, an in
every direcshin, an asked Adam wat on arth it ment. 'Wal,' ses the
thick-headed numskull, 'you told me to steer for the _black_ heifer, an
I've done it all day, but the denied critter wouldn't stand still, an
so the furrows are a kinder criss-cross, you see.' Now," ses I, "that
is jest wat Linkin has been doin. Greeley told him to steer for the
nigger, an the result is jest like Adam Pendergrast's ploughing.
There's a considerable fightin ben done, but it is all criss-cross,
zig-zag, an don't amount to nothin, an so it will be to the end of the
chapter." Wen I sed this, the Deacon knocked the ashes out of his pipe,
an ses he, "Wal, Majer, wat do you think the war will amount to,
enyhow?" "Wall," ses I, "I guess it will end a good deal like the
feller who thought he could make a horse-shoe jest as well as a
blacksmith." Ses the Deacon, ses he, "How was that, Majer?" "Wal," ses
I, "one day a feller in a blacksmith's shop made a bet that he could
make a horse-shoe jest as well as the blacksmith himself, though he
hadn't never heated an iron nor struck a blow on an anvil. The feller
sed it didn't require any great gumption to make a horse-shoe. So he
took a piece of iron an at it he went. He put it in the fire, heated it
an commenced poundin it, but the more he pounded, the more it didn't
look like a horse-shoe. He finally gave up the job, an said if he
couldn't make a horse-shoe he _could_ make a wagon-bolt. So at it he
went, but the more he pounded an the more he heated his iron, the less
it grew, an finally he found that he couldn't make even a wagon-bolt.
Then he declared that he had iron enough left for a horse-shoe nail,
and that he _would_ make, but upon trying, he found that the most
difficult job of all. Finally, giving up in despair, ses he, 'Wal, one
thing I can do enyhow, I can make a _siss_!' an plunging the tongs
an what was left of the iron in the water, he did get up a very
respectable 'siss.' Now," ses I, "when he started out, Linkin sed he
was goin to restore the old Union. That has been given up long ago, and
now they say they are goin to conquer the Southern States, that is,
make a despotism, but the war will turn out jest like the horse-shoe
business. Linkin will, after all, neether make a Union, or a despotism,
or an Empire by it, but it will end with a great big 'siss.' That's all
he will accomplish by it, an a dear 'siss' it will be for many a poor
fellow. A dear 'siss' it will be for the fatherless and the widows, and
a wonderful dear 'siss' it will be for the people who will have to pay
the taxes and foot the bill of war." Wen I said this, the Deacon drew a
long breth, an lookin down on the floor, didn't say enything for some
minutes. Finally, ses he, "Wal, Majer, will we have to give up the
Union after all?" Ses I, "I don't see eny necessity for that, providin
that we kin only stop the war an talk over matters a little. But," ses
I, "ef the Union is goin to be a Union wherein a white man hasn't the
right to express his opinions, then I must say I don't love such a
Union as that, an I'm as strong a Union man as old Ginneral Jackson, an
that was strong enough. I am for the old Union, but ef the Union is to
mean despotism, then I'm for breakin it all to smash, as soon as
possible. Wen a man begins to humbug me by callin things by their wrong
names to try an deceive me, it allus riles me onaccountably. I ain't a
very larned man, but I kin generally see through one of these college
chaps. Wen he talks Union to me, an all the time means despotism, I
allus feel jest like haulin up my old hickory, an givin him a
sockdologer. Why," ses I, "Deacon, the feller who wants to turn this
government into a despotism, an keeps all the time hollerin 'Union,'
while he is doin it, is not only a traitor, but a hypocrite an coward.
He is afeerd to speak his rale sentiments, an so goes around tryin to
deceive the people, jest as the false prophets in the Saviour's time.
I'm teetotally down on such fellers, an I mean to be to the end of the
chapter."
I almost forgot to tell you that Insine Stebbins, who went off to the
war, has jest got hum. He had a recepshun by the military of
Downingville wen he arriv. Col. Doolittle called out the Downingville
Insensibles an the Maroon artillery, an all Downingville was in a blaze
of glory. The Insine has been promoted to be Captin sense he went off,
for ritin a pome for the contrybands at Port Royal, where the Insine
was stashioned. The Insine is not a bad poet. But you orter seen the
turnout in Downingville to receive him. Colonel Doolittle rode down the
street on old Elder Dusenberry's sorrel mare, an jest as the cannon was
blazin forth the joyous news of the Captin's arrival on the ground, old
sorrel's colt, that the elder thought he had locked up safe in the
stable, come tarein through the street, an fairly mowed a swath rite
through the women. Such a yellin an screachin ver never heered afore. A
good many people thought the rebils were comin. Elder Dusenberry's wife
tore her best silk dress, an the Insine who had primed himself for a
big speech on the occashin, had it all scart out of him. If it hadn't
been for that rascally young colt, I think that the celebrashin would
have been the greatest day Downingville had seen sence the time General
Jackson visited it. The Insine brings the news from Washington that the
Kernel thinks some of payin a visit to the North, an maybe to the East,
afore long. Ef he does, he says he wants me to go along with him to
help him make speeches and keep off the offis-seekers. Ef he sends for
me, I spose I shall have to go, though I hate to do it.
Yourn till deth,