_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."
[Illustration: 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.