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 COMPLETE IN ONE TOLTJMB. 
 
 n 
 
 JACK OOWNING'S 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 BY 
 
 MAJOR JACK DOWFING. 
 
 JACK DOWKIJfQ IN HIS STITDT. 
 
 "The author has the richest and most iiatunil Yankee dialect of any writer who has at- 
 tMipted to give the peculiarities of Jonathan. The wit is real, attic, and something more 
 than poor orthography." — Kew York Morning Despatch, 
 
 "It is enough to observe that they emanate from tlie pen rf the original author of the 
 Jack Downing Letters. His Yankee stories and style are very diverting, and posses.< an 
 originality and fidelity, which are not discernable In the writiugs of a numeroiu hoi.ie of 
 imi taio I s . " — The A'ew Yorker. 
 
 }(] 1) i I a l» e I p 1) i a : , 
 
 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS, 300 CHESTNUT STREET. 
 
 PRICE 25 CENTS. 
 
m 
 
 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS' PUBLICATIONS. 
 WORKS BY THE VERY BEST AUTHORS. 
 
 TJie following hooks are each issued in one large duodecimo volume, 
 bound in cloth, at $1.75 each, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 
 The Conscript; or, the Days of Napoleon 1st. By Alex. Dumas,. ...$1 75 
 Cousin Harry. By Mrs. Grey, author of " The Gambler's Wife," etc. 1 75 
 Saratoga. An Indian Tale of Frontier Life. A true Story of 1787,.. 1 75 
 
 Married at Last. A Love Story. By Annie Thomas, 1 75 
 
 The Tower of London. By W. Harrison Ainsworth. Illustrated,,.. 176 
 Shoulder Straps. By Henry Morford, author of " Days of Shoddy," 1 75 
 Days of Shoddy. By Henry Morford, author of " Shoulder Straps," 1 75 
 
 The Coward. By Henry Morford, author of " Shoulder Straps," 1 75 
 
 The Cavalier. By G. P. K.James, author of "Lord Montagu's Page," 1 75 
 
 Rose Foster. By George W. M. Reynolds, Esq., 1 75 
 
 Lord Montagu's Page. By G. P. R. James, author of "Cavalier,"... 1 75 
 
 Mrs. Ann S. Stephens' Celebrated Novels. 21 volumes in all, 36 75 
 
 Mrs. Emma D. E. N. Southworth's Popular Novels. 37 vols, in all, 64 75 
 
 Mrs. Caroline Lee Hentz's Novels. Twelve volumes in all, 21 00 
 
 Frederika Bremer's Novels. Six volumes in all, 10 50 
 
 T. A. Trollope's Works. Seven volumes in all, 12 26 
 
 James A. Maitland's Novels. Seven volumes in all, 12 25 
 
 Q. K. Philander Doestick's Novels. Four volumes in all, 7 00 
 
 Cook Books. The best in the world. Ten volumes in all, 17 50 
 
 Henry Morford's Novels. Three volumes in all, 6 25 
 
 Mrs. Henry Wood's Novels. Seventeen volumes in all, 29 76 
 
 Emerson Bennett's Novels. Seven volumes in all, 12 26 
 
 Green's Works on Gambling. Four volumes in all, 7 00 
 
 Miss Eliza A. Dupuy's A¥orks. Eleven volumes in all, 19 26 
 
 Above books are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.60 each. 
 
 The folloxoing hooha are each issued in one large octavo volume, hound in 
 cloth, at $2.00 each, or each one is done up in paper cover, at $1.60 each. 
 
 The Wandering Jew. By Eugene Sue. Full of Illustrations, $2 00 
 
 Mysteries of Paris ; and its Sequel, Gerolstein. By Eugene Sue,.... 2 00 
 
 Martin, the Foundling. By Eugene Sue. Full of Illustrations, 2 00 
 
 Ten Thousand a Year. By Samuel Warren. With Illustrations,.... 2 00 
 
 Washington and His Generals. By George Lippard 2 00 
 
 The Quaker City; or, the Monks of Monk Hall. By George Lippard, 2 00 
 
 Blanche of Brandywino. By George Lippard, , 2 00 
 
 Paul Ardenheim; the Monk of Wissahickon. By George Lippard,. 2 00 
 Above books are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at $1.50 each. 
 
 Tilt following are each issued in one large octavo volume, bound in cloth, price $2.00 
 each, or a cheap edition is issued in paper cover, at 7 5 cents kaeh. 
 
 Charles O'Malley, the Irish Dragoon. By Charles Lever, Cloth, $2 00 
 
 Harry Lorrequer. With his Confessions. By Charles Lever,.,. Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Jack Hinton, the Guardsman. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Davenport Dunn. A Man of Our Day. By Charles Lever,... Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Tom Burke of Ours. By Charles Lever Cloth, 2 00 
 
 The Knischt of Gwynne, By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Arthur O'Leary. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Con Cregan. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Horace Templeton. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Kate O'Donoghue. By Charles Lever, Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Valentine Vox, the Ventriloquist. By Harry Cockton, Cloth, 2 00 
 
 Above are each in cloth, or each one is in paper cover, at 75 cents each. 
 
 1^" Above Books will be sent, postage paid, on receipt of Retail Price, 
 by T. B. Peterson & Brothers, Philadelphia, Pa. (3) 
 
JACK DOWNING'S 
 
 MAJOR JACK DOWNING. 
 
 JACK DOWNINa IN HIS STUDY. 
 
 "There Is no doubt that the author of this little volume is the best painter 
 of Yankee peculiarities that ever wrote. He is true to nature and never cari- 
 catures ; but without caricaturing, is most amusing." — N. T. Courier. 
 
 |) I) i I a h £ I p I) X a : 
 
 T. B. PETERSON AND BROTHERS, 
 
 306 CHESTNUT STREET. 
 
 VA 
 

 i V-! 
 
 Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1845, by 
 
 Burgess, Stiunger & Co. 
 In the Clerk's Office of ihe Southern District of New-York. 
 
 THOMAS EWIN6 III 
 
 OCTOBER 23, r947 
 
 THE LIBRAHY OF SOfiGRESS 
 
L/^' y 
 
 
 ^ / v7 
 
 E 
 
 X PREFACE 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR. 
 
 I WENT into Burgess & Stringer's book-store 'tother 
 day, under the great Museum Buildings opposite tiie 
 Astor House, and was kind of shying round, and look- 
 in' at the everlastin' sight of books they've got — as 
 much as two cart-loads on the counter, clear from one 
 end to 'tother, packed down in rows side by side, jest 
 like the bricks of the side-walks in New-York, or of 
 Uncle Joshua's kitchen harth in Downingville, besides 
 as much as twenty cart-loads piled up round on the 
 shelves. I begun at one end of the long counter, and 
 was takin' a kind of raking view of the titles, and when 
 I'd got over about a rod and a half of 'em, along come 
 Mr. Burgess, lookin' as good natured as if he couldn't 
 help it. And says he — 
 
 " Major Downing, how are ye ? I havn't seen you 
 this long time ; where have you kept yourself?" 
 
 " O," says I, " all about in spots, and the rest of the 
 time at home with Polly. But," says I, " Mr. Burgess, 
 for gracious sake, you don't expect there's folks enough 
 in America to read all these books, do you ?" 
 
 " Read all these !" says he, " why. Major Downing, 
 here is n't half a mouthful for 'em. There's a plaguy 
 sight more folks in America, Major, than you think for ; 
 and the way they swallow down these things is a cau- 
 tion to old rags and paper-makers, I can tell ye. If 
 we should cram every book we 've got in the store down 
 
 (ill) 
 
IV PREFACE, 
 
 their throats for breakfast, they'd be as hungry as bears 
 for more by eleven o'clock, and cry out for something 
 for a lunch. It's a fact. Major, the public has a dread- 
 ful cravin appetite for books ; there's no pacifying of 
 'em ; and it's the duty of every man that can write his 
 name and spell in vi'ords of four syllables, to go to 
 work and help to make books with all his might, so that 
 the public shan't starve." 
 
 I looked up at him, and says I, " Mr. Burgess, you 
 are joking." 
 
 " Upon my word, I am not," says he, " it's true as 
 preachin. The sufFerins of the public for want of 
 books is awful ; and now. Major Downing, you can 
 write, I know you can ; I've hearn tell of your writing 
 years ago, in the Gineral's time ; and now, if you've 
 got one spark of patriotism or common humanity left 
 in your veins, you'll go to work and contribute your 
 mite to keep your countrymen from starving." 
 
 " What," says I, " you don't mean for me to put out 
 a book, du ye ?" 
 
 " Most certainly I do,*' says he ; " it's your duty, 
 and you ought to do it immediately, — this very week. 
 There's thousands and thousands that have to go to bed 
 supperless every night for ttie want of a shilling book, 
 and get up in the morning with nothing to stay their 
 stomachs for the want of a sixpenny pamphlet. Major, 
 it's too bad that the public should be left to suffer so. — 
 Go right to work and get us up a book this week." 
 
 '• Well," says I, " Mr. Burgess, I don't know as I've 
 got anything to make a book out of, unless it's a few 
 letters I've been writing to Aunt Heziah, about the 
 bobbery you Yorkers always get into about the first of 
 May." 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 " Well," says he, " less see 'em." 
 
 So I pulled 'em out of my pocket and showed 'em 
 to him. He took 'em and looked 'em over, and read 
 along, and his face kept growing shorter and shorter, 
 and dt last it burst right open crossways, and his sides 
 was all of a shake, and I thought he was going to 
 swallo-(v the letters right down raw before they was 
 cooked. Says I, " Mr. Burgess, don't, for it's the only 
 copy I've got." 
 
 "Just the thing, Major," says he, "as far as it goes; 
 but there aint quite enough for a dose. You must add 
 a little more to it." 
 
 "But," says I, " I haint got nothin' ready." 
 
 "Never mind," says he, "borrow a few yarns of 
 your old friend that used to print your letters in the 
 Gineral's time, away down east. You've done him 
 many a good turn afore now, and turn about is fair 
 play." 
 
 "Very well," says I, "Mr. Burgess, if that's your 
 view of the case, go ahead ; the book shall be ready 
 for you to-morrow." 
 
 And that's the reason how this book come to light. 
 
 Major Jack Downing. 
 
JACK DOWNING S LETTERS. 
 
 ANOTHER PREFACE 
 
 BY THE PUBLISHERS. 
 
 In laying before the public a work from so distin- 
 guished a personage as the original Major Jack Down- 
 ing, the Publishers feel the importance and the respon- 
 sibility of the position in which they are placed, and 
 the high duty they owe in the matter both to the pres- 
 ent generation and to remote posterity. They would, 
 therefore, enter on their duties with a formality and a 
 seriousness, befitting the occasion, and with a just sense 
 of the delicate relation they hold to the great author 
 and the great public. 
 
 We deem it important, in the prefatory remarks 
 which we feel it our duty to make on this occasion, to 
 give a brief history of Downing literature ; for we con- 
 tend that there is a Downing literature in the country, 
 of a distinctive character, and that the original Major 
 Jack Downing, was the founder and the head of the 
 school. We feel bound to go into this examination the 
 more, because the matter has been greatly mystified in 
 the eyes of the public, and unless something is done to 
 brush away the clouds of error which have been gath- 
 ered about it, there is great danger that posterity may 
 never see the subject in its true light. 
 
 To enter at once, therefore, into the merits of the 
 case, we find it abundajaily proved from authentic 
 
JACK DOWNING S LETTEllS. 7 
 
 records, that Major Jack Downing was born in Down- 
 ingville, in the State of Maine. The precise location 
 of this now somewhat celebrated village, is described 
 by the Major himself, in the volume of his life and 
 writings, published about ten years ago in Boston, by 
 ]jilly, Waite & Co., as being "jest about in the middle 
 of douM east." It is a moderate day's ride from Poo- 
 duck, leaving Spurwink on the left, and is represented 
 by all travellers who have visited it, as being one of 
 the most delightful villages in the world, and remarka- 
 ble for the quiet and orderly character of its inhabitants, 
 and their hearty and unaffected hospitality to strangers. 
 
 In January, 1830, the Major, who was then only 
 plain Mr. Jack Downing, made a sort of a professional 
 visit to Portland, the capital of the State ; that is to say, 
 he "loaded up with axe-handles, bean-poles, and so on, 
 hitched on the old horse, and driv down to Portland 
 to sell." Here, a combination of circumstances, most 
 fortunately for the world, drew him into the paths of 
 literature, legislation, and military science. The 
 market was dull, he could not dispose of his vvares, 
 and held on two or three weeks, having " put up at 
 Ant Sally's," to see if prices would not improve. 
 
 In the mean time, he visited the Legislature of the 
 State, which was then in session in Portland, under re- 
 markable circumstances. The two political parties 
 were so evenly balanced, that both claimed the ascen- 
 dancy in the Legislature, but neither could obtain it. 
 The House was so nearly divided, that it depended 
 upon one or two contested seats to turn the scale one 
 way or the other. The two parties in the Senate 
 were exactly equal in numbers, and it was not known 
 who had been chosen Governor, nor could the votes be 
 
8 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 counted till the Legislature was organized. In this 
 state of things the two parties fought valiantly for every 
 inch of ground, and it was six weeks after the Legisla- 
 met before they succeeded in organizing the govern- 
 ment for the year. 
 
 Here was the match which fired the magazine of Mr. 
 Downing's intellect. Flere his first letter to h* friends 
 in Downingville, the first letter he ever wrote, went up 
 like a rocket, and shed light over the surrounding 
 country. Here was laid the corner-stone of the temple 
 of Downing literature. As an interesting and impor- 
 tant record in the history of letters, tind helles-leiters, 
 in this country, it is deemed highly proper that that let- 
 ter should be here inserted. We have accordingly 
 taken the trouble to procure an exact and authentica- 
 ted copy, and here it is. 
 
 [The first Downing letter ever written.] 
 
 Portland, Monday, Jan. 18, 1830. 
 To Cousin Ephraim Downing up in Doioningville. 
 
 Dear Cousin Ephraim, — I now take my pen in hand to let 
 you know that I am well, hoping these few lines will find you 
 enjoying the same blessing. When I come down to Portland 
 I didn't think o' staying more than three or four days, if I 
 could sell my load of ax handles, and mother's cheese, and 
 cousin Nabby's bundle of footings ; but when I got here I 
 found uncle Nat was gone a freighting down to Quoddy, and 
 ant Sally said as how I shouldn't stir a step home till he come 
 back agin, which wont be this month. So here I am, loitering 
 about this great town, as lazy as an ox. Ax handles don't fetch 
 nothing, I couldn't hardly give 'em away. Tell cousin Nabby 
 I sold her footings for nine-pence a pair, and took it all in 
 cotton cloth. Mother's cheese come to five-and-sixpence ; I 
 got her half a pound of shushon, and two ounces of snufl", 
 and the rest in sugar. When uncle Nat comes home I shall 
 put my ax handles aboard of him, and let him take 'em to 
 Boston next time he goes ; I saw a feller tother day, that told 
 me they'd fetch a good price there. — I've been here now a 
 whole fortnight, and if I could tell ye one half I've seen, I 
 
JACK DOAYNING'S LETTERS. 9 
 
 guess you'd stare worse than if you'd seen a catamount. I've 
 been to meeting, and to the museum, and to both Legislaters, 
 the one they call the House, and the one they call the Sinnet. 
 I spose uncle Joshua is in a great hurry to hear something 
 about these Legislaters ; for you know he's always reading 
 newspapers, and talking politics, when he can get any body 
 to talk with him. I've seen him, when he had five tons of hay 
 in the field well made, and a heavy shower coming up, stand 
 two hours disputing with Squire \V. about Adams and Jack- 
 son, one calling Adams a tory and a fed, and the other saying 
 Jackson was a murderer and a fool ; so they kept it up, till 
 the ram began to pour down, and about spoilt all his hay. 
 
 Uncle Joshua may set his heart at rest about the bushel of 
 corn that he bet long with the post-master, that Mr. Ruggles 
 would be Speaker of that Legislator, they call the House ; 
 for he's lost it, slick as a whistle. As 1 hadn't much to do, 
 I've been there every day since they've been a setting. A 
 Mr. White of Monmouth was the Speaker the two first days ; 
 and I can't s^e why they didn't keep hiin in all the time ; ibr 
 he seemed to be a very clever good-natured sort of man, and 
 he had such a smooth pleasant way with him, that I couldn't 
 help feeling sorrj'' when they turned him out and put in 
 another. But some said he wasn't put in hardly fair; and I 
 dont know as he was, for the first day when they were all 
 coming in and crowding round, there was a large fat man, 
 with a round, full, jolly sort of a fiice, I suppose he was the 
 captain, for he got up and commanded them to come to order, 
 and then he told this Mr. White to whip into the chair quicker 
 than you could say Jack Robinson. Some of 'em scolded 
 about it, and I heard, some in a little room they called the 
 lobby, say 'twas a mean trick ; but I couldn't see why, for I 
 thought Mr. White made a capital Speaker, and when our 
 company turns out you know the captam always has a rigiit 
 to do as he's a mind to. 
 
 They kept disputing most all the time the two first days 
 about a poor Mr. Roberts from Waterborough. Some said 
 he shouldn't have a seat, because he ad.ourned the town meet- 
 ing, and wasn't fairly elected. Others said it was no such 
 thing, and that he was elected as fairly as any of 'em. And 
 Mr. Roberts himself said he was, and said he could bring men 
 that would swear to it, and good men too. But natwithstand- 
 ing all this, when they came to vote, they got three or four 
 majority that he shouldn't have a seat. And I thought it a 
 needless piece of cruelty, for they want crowded, and there 
 was a number of seats empty. But they would have it so, 
 and the poor man had to go and stan(^ up in the lobby. 
 
10 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 Then they disputed awhile about a Mr. Fowler's having a 
 seat. Some said he shouldn't have a seat, because when he 
 was elected some of his votes were given for his father. But 
 they were more kind to him than they were to Mr. Roberts ; 
 for they voted that he should have a seat; and I suppose it 
 was because they thought he had a lawful right to inherit 
 whatever was his father's. They all declared there was no 
 party politics about it, and I don't think there was ; for I 
 noticed that all who voted that Mr. Roberts should have a seat, 
 voted that Mr. Fowler should not ; and all who voted that Mr. 
 Roberts should not have a seat, voted that Mr. Fowler should. 
 So, as they all voted both ways, ihey must have acted as their 
 consciences told them, and I dont see how there could be any 
 party about it. 
 
 It's a pity the)'' couldn't be allowed to have two speakers, 
 for they seemed to be very anxious to choose Mr. Ruggles 
 and Mr. Goodenow. They too had every vote, except one, 
 and if they had had that, I believe they both would have been 
 chosen ; as it was, however, they both came within a hum- 
 bird's eye of it. Whether it was Mr. Ruggles that voted for 
 Mr. Goodenow, or Mr. Goodenow^ for Mr. Ruggles, I can't 
 exactly tell ; but I rather guess it was Mr. Ruggles voted for 
 Mr. Goodenow, for he appeared to be very glad that Mr. 
 Goodenow was elected, and went up to him soon after Mr. 
 Goodenow took the chair, and shook hands with him as good 
 natured as could be. I would have given half my load of ax 
 handles, if they could both have been elected and set up there 
 together, they would have been so happy. But as they can't 
 have but one speaker at a time, and as Mr. Goodenow appears 
 to understand the business very well, it is not likely Mr. 
 Ruggles will be speaker any this winter. So uncle Joshua 
 will have to shell out his bushel of corn, and I hope it will 
 learn him better than to bet about politics again. If he had 
 not been a goose, he might have known he would loose it, 
 even if he had been ever so sure of getting it ; for in these 
 politics there's never any telling which way the cat will jump. 
 Yon know, before the last September election, some of tiie 
 papers that came to our town had found out that Mf. Hunton 
 would have five thousand majority of the votes. And some 
 of the other papers had found out that Mr. Smith would have 
 five thousand majority. Eut the cat jumped 'tother way to 
 both of 'em ; for I can't find yet as either of 'em has got any 
 majority. Some say Mr. Hunton has got a little majority, but 
 as far from five thousand as I am from home. And as for 
 Mr. Smith they don't think he has any majority at all. You 
 remember, too, before I came from home, some of the papers 
 
JACK DOWNING'S letters. 11 
 
 said how there was a majority of ten or fifteen national re- 
 publicans, in the Legislater, and the other papers said there 
 was a pretty clever little majority of democratic republicans. 
 Well, now every body says it has turned out jest as that queer 
 little paper, called the the Daily Courier, said 'twould. That 
 paper said it was such a close rub, it couldn't hardly tell 
 which side would beat. And it's jest so, for they've been 
 here now motta fortnight acting jest like two boys playin see- 
 saw on a rail. First one goes up, then 'tother ; but I reckon 
 one of the boys is rather heaviest, for once in awhile he 
 comes down chuck, and throws, the other up into the air as 
 though he would pitch him head over heels. 
 
 In that 'tother Legislater they call the Sinnet, there has 
 been some of the drollest carryins on that you ever he.trd of. 
 If I can get time I'll write you something about it, pretty 
 soon. So I subscribe myself, in haste, your loving cousin 
 till death. 
 
 Jack Downing. 
 
 Four days after the date of the above letter, Mr. 
 Downing wrote another letter to his Uncle Joshua, of 
 Downingville, who had in the mean time " loaded up" 
 with turkies and "apple sass," and pushed off to Bos- 
 ton, from which place he addressed the following letter 
 to his nephew in Portland. 
 
 Letter from Joshua Downing, in Boston, to his nephetv. Jack 
 Doiuning, in Portland. 
 
 Dear Nephew, — I left home just after your letter to your 
 cousin Ephraim got there, and I didn't get a sight of your 
 letter to me that you put into the Courier at Portland, until 
 I saw it in the Daily Advertiser in Boston, and 1 guess Mr. 
 Hale is the only person in Boston who takes that are little 
 Courier, so you was pretty safe about the letter not being 
 seen, as the printer promised you. How 1 happened to see 
 it here, you will find out before I have got through with this 
 letter. I guess you wont be a little struck up when you find* 
 out that I'm in Boston — but I had best begin at the beginning 
 and then I shall get thro' quicker. 
 
 After seeing your letter to Ephraim as I said before, I con- 
 cluded it wouldn't be a bad scheme to tackle up and take a 
 load of turkies, some apple-sauce, and other notions that the 
 neighbors wanted to get to market, and as your uncle Nat 
 would be in Boston with the ax handles, we all thought best 
 
12 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 to try our luek there. Nothing happened worth mentioning 
 on the road, nor till next morning after I got here and put up 
 in Ehn street. I then got off my watch pretty curiously, as 
 you shall be informed. I was down in the bar room, and 
 tlio't it well enough to look pretty considerable smart, and 
 now and then compared my watch with the clock in the bar, 
 and found it as near right as it ever was — when a feller stept 
 up to me and ask't how I'd trade 1 and says I, for what 1 and 
 siys he, for your watch — and says 1, any way that will be a 
 fair shake — upon that says he, I'll give you my watch and live 
 dollars. — Says I, its done ! He gave me the five dollars, and 
 1 gave him my watch. Now, says I, give me your watch — 
 and says he, with a loud laugh, I han't got none — -and that 
 kind aturn'd the laugh on me. Thinks I, let them laugh that 
 lose. Soon as the laugh was well over, the feller thought 
 he'd try the watch to his ear — why, says he, it dont go — np, 
 says I, not without its carried — then I began to laugh — he 
 tried to open it and couldn't start it a hair, and broke his 
 thumb nail in the bargain. Won't she open, says he 1 Net's 
 I know on, says I — and then the laugh seemed to take anoth- 
 er turn. 
 
 Don't you think I got off the old Brittania pretty well, con- 
 sidrin 1 And then I thought I'd go and see about my load of 
 turkies and other notions. I expected to have gone all over 
 town to sell my load, but Mr. Doolittle told me if I'd go down 
 to the new market, I should find folks enough to buy all I had 
 at once. So down I goes, and a likely kind of a feller, with 
 an eye like a hawk and quick as a steeltrap for a trade, (thev 
 called him a 4th staller,) came up to the wagon, and before 
 you could say Jack Robinson, we struck a bargain for the 
 whole cargo — and come to weigh and reckon up, I found I 
 should get as much as 10s6d more than any of us calculated 
 before I left home, and had the apple-sauce left besides. So 
 I thought I'd jist see how this 4th staller worked his card to 
 bs able to give us so good a price for the turkies, and I went 
 inside the market-house, and a grander sight I never expect 
 to see ! But it was the 3d staller instead of the 4th, had my 
 turkies all sorted and hung up, and looking so much better 
 that I hardly should know 'em. Pretty soon, a gentleman 
 asked the 3d staller what he asked for turkies 1 Why, says 
 he, if you want something better than you ever saw before, 
 there's some 'twas killed last night purpose for you. You 
 iriay take 'em at 9d, being it's you. I'll give you 12 cents, 
 said the gentleman, as I've got some of the General Court to 
 dine with me, and must treat well. I shant stand for half a 
 cent with an old customer, says he. And so they traded ; 
 
JACK downing's letters. 13 
 
 ani in about the space of half an hour or more, all my turkiea 
 went into baskets at that rate. The 4th stailer gave me 6d 
 a pound, and I began to think I'd been a little too much in a 
 hurry for trade — but's no use to cry for spilt milk. Then I 
 went up to the State House to see what was going on there ; 
 but I thought rd get off my apple-sauce on my way — and see- 
 ing a sign of old clothes bartered, I stepped in and made a 
 trade, and got a whole suit of superline black broadcloth from 
 top to toe, for a firkin of apple-sauce, (wliich didn't cost nmch 
 I guess, at home.) 
 
 Accordingly I rigged myself up in the new suit, and you'd 
 hardly known me. I didn't like the set of the shoulders, they 
 were so dreadful puckery ; but the man said that was all 
 right. I guess he '11 lind the apple-sauce full as puckery 
 when he gets down into it — but that's between ourselves. 
 Well, when I got up to the vState House I found them at worlc 
 on the rail road — busy enough I can tell you — they got a part 
 of it made already. I found most all the folks kept their hats 
 on except the man who was talking out loud and the man he 
 was talking to — all the rest seemed to be busy about their 
 own consarns. As I didn't see any body to talk to I kept my 
 hat on and took a seat, and look'd round to see what was go- 
 ing on. I hadn't been setting long before I saw a slick-head- 
 ed, sharp-eyed little man, who seemed to have the principal 
 management of the folks, looking at me pretty sharp, as much 
 as to say who are you? but I said nothing and looked tother 
 way — at last he touched me on the shoulder — I thought he 
 was feeling of the puckers. Are you a member ! says he — 
 sartin says I — how long have you taken your seat? says he. 
 About ten minutes, says I. Are you qualified ? says he. I 
 guess not, says I. And then he left me. I didn't know ex- 
 actly what this old gentleman was after — but soon he return- 
 ed and said it was proper for me to be qualified before I took 
 a seat, and I must go before the governor ! By Jing ! I never 
 felt so before in all my born days. As good luck would have 
 it, he was beckoned to come to a man at the desk, and as soon as 
 his back was turned I give him the slip. Jest as I was going 
 olf, the gentleman who bought my turkies of the 4th stailer 
 took hold of my arm, and I was afraid at first that he was go- 
 ing to carry me to the Governor — but he began to talk as so- 
 ciable as if we had been old acquaintances. How long have 
 you been in the house, Mr. Smith, says he. My name is 
 Downing, said I. I beg your pardon, says he — I mean 
 Downing. It's no offence, says I. I haven't been here long. 
 Then says he in a very pleasant way, a few of your brother 
 members are to take pot-luck with me to-day, and I should be 
 
14 JACK DOWNIjSTG's LETTERS. 
 
 happy to have you join them. What's pot-luck, said I. O, a 
 family dinner, says he — ^no ceremony. I thought by this time 
 I was well qualified for that without going to the Governor. 
 So says I, yes, and thank ye too. How long before you'll 
 want me, says I. At 3 o'clock, says he, and gave me a piece 
 'of paste board with his name on it — and the name of the 
 street, and the number of his house, and said that would show 
 ine the way. Well, says I, I dont know of nothing that will 
 keep me away. And then we parted. I took considerable 
 liking to him. 
 
 After strolling round and seeing a great many things about 
 the State House and the marble immage of Gin. Washington, 
 standing on a stump in the Porch, I went out into the street 
 they call Bacon street, and my stars ! what swarms of women 
 folks I saw all drest up as if they were going to meeting. 
 You can tell cousin Polly Sandburn, who you know is no 
 sliraster, that she needn't take on so about being genteel in 
 her shapes — for the genteelest ladies here beat her as to size 
 all hollow. I dont believe one of 'em could get into our fore 
 dore — and as for their arms — I shouldn't want better measure 
 for a bushel of meal than one of their sleeves could hold. I 
 shant shell out the bushel of corn you say I've lost on Speak- 
 er Ruggles at that rate. But this puts me in mind of the din- 
 ner which Mr. wants I should help the Gineral Court 
 
 eat. So I took out the piece of paste board, and began to in- 
 quire my way and got along completely, and found the num- 
 ber the first time — but the door was locked, and there was no 
 knocker, and I thumpt with my whip handle, but nobody come. 
 And says I to a man going by, dont nobody live here 1 and 
 says he yes. Well, how do you get in ] Why, says he ring; 
 and says I, ring what '^ And says he, the bell. And says I, 
 Where's the rope 1 And says he, pull that little brass nub ; 
 and so I gave it a twitch, and I'm sure a bell did ring ; and 
 who do you think opened the door with a white apron afore 
 him 1 You couldn't guess jor a week a Sundays — so Til tell 
 you. It was Stephen Furlong, who kept our district school last 
 winter, for 5 dollars a month, and kept bachelor's hall, and 
 helped tend for Gineral Coombs a training day, and -make out 
 muster rolls. We was considerably struck up at first, both of 
 us ; and when he found I was going to eat dinner with Mr. 
 
 — and Gineral Court, he thought it queer kind of doings 
 
 — but says he, I guess it will be as well for both of us not to 
 know each other a bit more than we can help. And says I, 
 with a wink, you're half right, and in I went. There was 
 
 nobody in the room but Mr. — and his wife, and not a 
 
 sign of anv dinner to be seen any where — though I thought 
 
JACK downing's letters. 15 
 
 now and then when a side door opened, I could smell cup- 
 board, as they say. , , , ^ ^ 
 I thought I should be puzzled enough to know what to say, 
 
 but I hadn't my thoughts long to myself. Mr. ~'^^^ 
 
 about as nimble a tongue as you ever heard, and could say 
 ten words to my one, and I had nothing to do m the way ot 
 makincT talk. Just then I heard a ringing, and Stephen was 
 busy opening the door and letting in the Gmeral Court, who 
 all had their hats off, and looking pretty scrumptious you 
 may depend. I didn't see but I could stand along side ot em 
 without disparagement, except to my boots, which had just 
 got a lick of beeswax and tallow— not a mite ot dinner yet, 
 and I began to feel as if 'twas nearer supper-time than dinner- 
 time— when all at once two doors flew away from each other 
 rio-ht into the wall, and what did I see but one oi the grand- 
 est thanksgiving dinners you ever laid your eyes on— and 
 lights on the table, and silver candlesticks and gold lamps 
 over head— the window shutters closed— I guess more than 
 one of us stared at first, but we soon found the way to our 
 mouths— I made Stephen tend out for me pretty sharp, and he 
 got my plate filled three or four times with soup, which beat 
 all I ever tasted. I shan't go through the whole dinner again 
 to you— but I am mistaken if it cost me much tor victuals 
 this week, if I pay by the meal at Mr. Doolittle's, who comes 
 pretty near up to a thanksgiving every day. There was con- 
 siderable talk about stock and manufactories, and her bilities, 
 ' and rimidies, and a great loss on stock. I thought this a good 
 chance for me to put in a word— for I calculated I knew as 
 much about raising stock and keeping over as any of em. 
 
 Says I to Mr. , there's one thing I've always observed 
 
 in my experience in stock^ust as sure as you try to keep 
 over more stock than you have fodder to carry them well into 
 April, one half will die on your hands, to a sartinty — and 
 there's no remedy for it — I've tried it out and out, and there's 
 no law that can make a ton of hay keep over ten cows, unless 
 you have more carrots and potatoes than you can throw a 
 stick at. This made some of the folks stare who didn't know 
 much about stock— and Steve give me a jog, as much as to 
 say, keep quiet. He thought I was gitting into a quog-mire, 
 and soon after, giving me a wink, opened the door and got me 
 out of the room into the entry. 
 
 After we had got out of hearing, says I to Steve, how are 
 you getting on in the world — should you like to come back to 
 keep our school if I could get a vote for you ■!- not by two 
 chalks, says Steve — I know which side my bread is buttered 
 better than all that — I get 12 dollars a month and found, and 
 
16 JACK dowi^^ing's letters. 
 
 now and then some old clothes, which is better than keeping 
 school at 5 dollars and find myself, and work out my higiiway 
 tax besides — then turning up the cape of my neio coat, says 
 he, I guess I've dusted that before now — most likely, says I, 
 but not in our district school. And this brings to mind to tell 
 you how I got a sight of your letter. They tell me here that 
 every body reads the Boston Daily Advertiser, because there 
 is no knowing but what they may find out something to their 
 advantage, so I thought I would be as wise as the rest of 
 them, and before I got half through with it, what should I find 
 mixed up among the news but your letter that you put into 
 that little paper down in Portland, and I knew it was your 
 writing before I had read ten lines of it. 
 I hope I've answered it to your satisfaction. 
 
 Your respectful uncle, 
 
 Joshua Downing. 
 
 P. S. Mr. Topliff says your uncle Nat is telegraphed, but 
 I'm afraid the axe handles wont come to much — I find the 
 Boston follfs make a handle of most anything they can lay 
 hold of, and just as like as not they'll make a handle of our 
 private letters, if they should see them. 
 
 N. B. You spell dreadful bad, according to my notion — 
 and this proves what I always said, that our district has been 
 going down hill ever since Stephen Furlong left it. 
 
 A thing may sometimes be great from the force of cir- 
 cumstances, when intrinsically considered, without the 
 aid of those circumstances, it might not attract unusual 
 aciention. It was so in some degree with the first let- 
 ter of Mr. Downing. Here were the elected represen- 
 tatives of a sovereign State, without law or order, jang- 
 ling and quarrelling for weeks without being able to 
 choose their own presiding officers, and the whole peo- 
 ple were looking on, and holding up their hands in aw- 
 ful consternation, expecting to be left without a govern- 
 ment, and to be overwhelmed by the turbulent waves 
 of anarchy and confusion. 
 
 At this critical moment the first letter of Mr. Down- 
 ing fell upon the Legislature " like a thousand of 
 brick." It electrified the people of Portland and the 
 
JACK downing's letters. 17 
 
 whole State, as if a flash of lightning had burst upon 
 them out of a clear sky ; it waked up old Boston and 
 set it in a roar ; even the fighting politicians in the Le- 
 gislature did not fight with half the grit afterwards, for 
 whenever they attempted to throw each other " sky- 
 high." they would think of the "two-boys see-sawing 
 on a rail," and laugh outright in each other's faces. 
 
 In short, the Downing literature was planted : the 
 soil was adapted to the seed, and in the nature of things 
 it was bound to grow. And it did grow and flourish *' like 
 a green bay horse." Mr. Downing had to stay in 
 Portland and write Istters all winter ; and then he had 
 to stay and write letters all summer. His popularity 
 went steadily up. He was nominated in Downingville 
 for Governor of the State, and at the fall election re- 
 ceived every vote in his native town. Having devoted 
 his valuable services to his own State for something 
 more than a year, his patriotism soared higher, and 
 took a wider range. In May, 1831, having heard of 
 the disastrous explosion and resignation of President 
 Jackson's first Cabinet, with the most heroic devotion 
 to the public interests, Mr. Downing repaired to Wash- 
 ington, with a view of relieving the embarrassments of 
 the President by offering to fill one of the vacant Secre- 
 taryships. 
 
 Unluckily, however, for the public welfare, before he 
 reached Washington, as he " had to foot it" most of the 
 way, the places were filled by less efficient and less 
 worthy men. Nothing daunted, but inspired by a grow- 
 ing patriotism, Mr. Downing remained at head quar- 
 ters, determined that the country should have his ser- 
 vices, whenever they were wanted. He became ac- 
 quainted with " the Gineral," and that sagacious and 
 
18 JACK DOWNINtt'S LETTERS, 
 
 keen-sighted warrior and statesman soon penetrated 
 and appreciated the high qualities of Mr. Downing. 
 About this time a circumstance occurred which pinned 
 Mm to the Gineral's heart forever. 
 
 A new quarrel had broken out among the Cabinet 
 officers. " A lady was in the case," and the quarrel 
 was bitter. Major Eaton challenged Mr. Ingham, Sec- 
 retary of the Treasury, to settle the matter in a duel ; 
 but the latter gentleman declined the honor. Then 
 Major Eaton and a gang of other gentlemen went to 
 Mr. Ingham's house in the evening, and demanded 
 that he should come out. This he declined also. The 
 gang of gentlemen were then preparing to burst open 
 the door and drag him out. At this crisis Mr. Down- 
 ing mounted Mr. Ingham's, door-steps, threw off his hat 
 and coat, rolled up his sleeves, struck his fists together, 
 and told them " to come on, one to time, or all in a 
 bunch, he didn't care which ; but before they should 
 break open the door of a peaceable man who was stay- 
 ing in his house as quiet as a lamb, with his wife and 
 children, they should climb over his dead body." This 
 settled the Jiash ; for, according to the history of the 
 affair given by Mr. Downing at the time, in a letter to 
 the Portland Courier, " Major Eaton and the whole 
 gang of gentlemen with him turned right about and 
 marched away as still as a pack of whipped puppies." 
 
 From this time " the Gineral" hugged Mr. Downing 
 to his bosom and made him his right hand man ever 
 afterwards. 
 
 In October, 1831, a dark cloud, full of thunder and 
 war appeared "away down east," hanging over the 
 " disputed territory" in the State of Maine, and Presi- 
 dent Jackson gave Mr. Downing a Captain's commis- 
 
JACK dowxixg's letters. 19 
 
 sion in the Army, with the instructions to raise a com- 
 pany of volunteers in Downingville, and go down to the 
 disputed territory, flog the British and malie fair weath- 
 er. Capt. Downing performed the expedition, and set- 
 tled the business to the satisfaction of all parties. 
 
 Capt. Downing could now receive any thing from 
 the President which he chose to ask, for himself and 
 friends. He was, however, very modest and moderate 
 in his reception of favors, and only allowed the Presi- 
 dent to appoint that staunch patriot, " uncle Joshua 
 Downing'' to the honorable position of Post Master of 
 Downingville ; a position which, much to the credit of 
 succeeding administrations, he holds to this day. 
 
 In December, 1832, the horid monster of Nullifica- 
 tien raised its head in South Carolina, and threatened 
 to bite off" the head of the government. President Jack- 
 son, who was always equal to every emergency, at 
 once gave Captain Downing a Major's commission, and 
 told him to take care of South Carolina, and drive Nul- 
 lification into the Gulf of Mexico. No man under- 
 stood the nature of Nullification, or how to cure it, bet- 
 ter than Major Downing, as was abundantly proved in 
 his celebrated account of carrying a raft of logs over 
 Sebago pond. 
 
 It appears, on receiving a major's commission, that 
 Mr. Downing's military ambition was satisfied; for 
 when the President afterwards desired him to take the 
 appointment of colonel in the army, he declined, say- 
 ing, he much preferred the title of Major. However, 
 it mattered little what' his nominal rank might be, he 
 was the master-spirit that sustained the administration 
 of "the Gineral" in those trying times, and carried 
 him safely through the storm of Nullification, the 
 fight with the bank monster, and many other difficulties. 
 
20 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 But we find this subject growing on our hands, and 
 the father we go the more prolific it becomes. We did 
 not sit down to write a biography of Major Downing — 
 we trust that important work will be committed to abler 
 and better hands — our object was mainly to throw a 
 little light on the origin and progress of Downing lite- 
 rature, and to correct certain errors which tradition had 
 fallen into, and which were in danger of being per- 
 petuated on the page of history. Suffice it to say here, 
 that on receiving his commission and the orders from 
 the President to " take care of South Carolina," Major 
 Downing ordered his faithful cousin Sargeant Joel 
 Downing, to repair immediately to Washington with 
 his invincible Downingville company. 
 
 Having drawn up his Downingville forces at Wash- 
 ington, the major stood ready at a moment's warning to 
 pounce upon S. Carolina the first instant that Nullifica- 
 tion attempted to raise its head against the government ; 
 and he used to mount upon the Capitol every day and 
 listen to see if he could hear the guns cracking in 
 South Carolina, for he said the President told him not 
 to strike a single blow till South Carolina struck first. 
 
 Luckily, however, Mr. Clay's Tariff" Bill put Nul- 
 lification to sleep, and the Major never had to come to 
 the scratch with the South Carolina monster. The 
 next great movement of the Major was to accompany 
 " the Gineral" on his famous tour " down east." In 
 his letter to Cousin Ephraim, March 10, 1833, he in- 
 forms him that a project of that kind was "a brewin" 
 and says " the President talks of taking a journey down 
 east this summer, and he wants me to go with him, be- 
 cause I'm acquainted there, and can show him all 
 about it. He has a great desire to go as far as Down- 
 ingrille a,nd get acquainted with Uncle Joshua, who 
 
JACK downing's letters. 21 
 
 has always stuck by him in all weathers through thick 
 and thin. The President thinks that Uncle Joshua, 
 is one of the republican pillars of New England, and 
 and says he shall always have the post office of Down- 
 ingville as long as he lives, and his children after 
 him." 
 
 April 20th, the Major writes to his old friend of the 
 Portland Courier that the thing is all cut and dried, and 
 he and the Gineral and the two cabinets are going to 
 make a grand tour down east. There was one diffi- 
 culty in the way which he describes as follows : 
 
 " There is some trouble among us here a little, to know 
 how we shall get along among the federalists when we 
 come that way. They say the federalists in Massa- 
 chusetts want to keep the President all to themselves 
 when he comes there. But Mr. Van Buren says that'll 
 never do ; he must stick to the democratic party ; he 
 may shake hands with a federalist once in awhile if the 
 democrats don't see him, but whenever there is any 
 democrats round, he musn't look at a federalist. Mr. 
 McLane and Mr. Livingston advise him t'other way. 
 They tell him he'd better treat the federalists pretty 
 civil, and shake hands with Mr. Webster as quick as 
 he would with Uncle Joshua Downing. And when 
 they give this advice Mr, Lewis and Mr. Kendall hop 
 right up as mad as march hares, and tell him if he 
 shakes hands with a single federalist while he is gone, 
 the democratic party will be ruined. And then the 
 President turns round to me, and asks me what he had 
 better do. And I tell him that I guess he better go 
 straight ahead, and keep a stiff upper lip, and shake 
 hands with whoever he's a mind to." 
 
 Early in June the the grand party got under way, 
 and on the 10th the Major writes to his Uncle Joshua 
 
22 JACK DO\yXlN(j'S LETTERS. 
 
 from Philadelphia, and tells him " we are coming on 
 full chisel." After describing the journey as far as 
 Philadelphia, the Major proceeds as follows : 
 
 " They took us up into a great hall this morning as big 
 as a meeting-house, and then the folks began to pour in 
 by thousands to shake hands with the President ; fede- 
 ralists and all, it made no difference. There was such 
 a stream of em coming in that the hall was full in a 
 few minutes, and it was so jammed up round the door 
 that they couldn't get out again if they was to die. 
 So they had to knock out some of the windows and go 
 out t'other way." 
 
 The President shook hands with all his might an 
 hour or two, till he got so tired he couldn't hardly 
 stand it. I took hold and shook for him once in awhile, 
 to help him along ; but at last he got so tired he had to 
 lay down on a soft bench covered with cloth, and shake 
 as well as he could, and when he couldn't shake, he'd 
 nod to em as they come along. And at last he got so 
 beat out, he couldn't only wrinkle his forehead and wink. 
 Then I kind of stood behind him and reached my arm 
 round under his, and shook for him for about a half an 
 hour as tight as I could spring. Then we conclud- 
 ed it was best to adjourn for to-day. And I've made 
 out to get away up into the garret in the tavern long 
 enough to write this letter. We shall be off to-mor- 
 row or next day for York, and if I can possibly get 
 breathing time enough there, I shall write to you 
 again." 
 
 On the 13th of June, 1833, the party arrived in New 
 York, and " got a ducking," by the breaking down of 
 the bridge at Castle Garden. The Major here wrote again 
 to his Uncle Joshua, giving a full account of the sad 
 
JACK downing's letters. 23 
 
 catastrophe, in which nobody was killed and nobody 
 hurt, except about fifty things they' called "dandies," 
 which looked so after they got wet he couldn't tell 
 whether they were dead or alive ; so they " pulled em 
 out and laid em up on the grass to dry and left em." 
 
 And here we come to an important point, an era in 
 the Downing literature which requires special notice. 
 It was now nearly three years and a half that Major 
 Downing had been serving and enlightening his 
 countrymen. In all that time his fame had steadily 
 increased. His letters were copied into every paper 
 all over the land, and his name was in every body's 
 mouth. Next to General Jackson he was decidedly the 
 most popular man in the United States. Perhaps no- 
 thing is more calculated to excite a feeling of envy, 
 than great popularity. The popular man is like the 
 child who holds a nice stick of candy in his hand ; all 
 the children around are on tiptoe to get a nibble. It is 
 not strange therefore, that many in different parts of 
 the country endeavored to get a taste of Major Down- 
 ing's popularity by attempting to imitate his writings. 
 
 But one individual at this time made a bold and sys- 
 tematic rush at the Major, and attempted to strip his 
 well-earned laurels from his brow and entwine them 
 round his own head. This was a respectable mer- 
 chant, a heavy iron dealer, in Broad street, New York. 
 Violently seized with the mania a potu of literature, 
 he sat down and wrote a Downing letter, giving an ac- 
 count of the arrival of the Presidential party in New 
 York, signed it with the Major's name, and published it 
 in the old Daily Advertiser. 
 
 As the letter of the genuine Major giving an account 
 of the same affair, was sent to his Uncle Joshua through 
 
24 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 the Portland Courier, it took several days for it to make 
 the journey down east and back again. In the mean 
 time the letter of the iron dealer made its appearance 
 with Major Downing's signature, and was seized upon 
 by the greedy multitude and passed about as the true 
 coin. The thousands and tens of thousands who had 
 been hurrahing for Major Downing for weeks and 
 months, and some of them for years, of course raised 
 their voices again as loud as ever. 
 
 " God bless me !" said the Broad street merchant ; 
 " why, I've electrified the world ! I had no idea I was 
 such a great writer before. I must go into this busi- 
 ness deep ; who cares for trade when he can get popu- 
 larity and literary fame 1" 
 
 Henceforth the Broad street merchant became a man 
 of letters, and the iron business was turned over to the 
 other members of the firm. For months afterwards he 
 earnestly applied himself to writing Downing letters, 
 and as he could always get them to the New York market 
 before the letters of the true Major, who was riding about 
 with the "Gineral," and sending his epistles through 
 the Portland Courier, could arrive here, the merchant 
 thought the run of the trade was all in his favor. And 
 whenever the clouds in all parts of the country pealed 
 forth the name of Major Downing, " God bless me !" 
 said the merchant, " don't you hear my thunder !" 
 
 But we are dilating too much for the object we pro- 
 posed to ourselves on this occasion, and must jdraw to a 
 close. Americus Vespucius filched the name of 
 America, but Columhus discovered the country. It is the 
 province of history to set these matters right. In No- 
 vember, 1883, an enterprising and extensive publishing 
 house in Boston, Messrs Lilly, Waite, Colman, and 
 
JACK DOWNING S LETTERS. 
 
 25 
 
 Holdeii, published a volume of the Major's letters with 
 a brief sketch of his life, which had a very rapid and 
 wide sale. This afforded another opportunity for the 
 Broad street merchant to gather fresh laurels, and he 
 accordingly had his letters collected and published in 
 a volume in New York. 
 
 These circumstances at the time were much com- 
 mented upon by the papers of the Jay. We shall here 
 quote a couple of paragraphs from the many that ap- 
 peared, as applicable to our purpose. The following 
 was the language of Major Noah's Evening Star. 
 
 Major Jack Doivnmg turned author. — The letters which 
 have "just been published in a neat duodecimo volume by Lilly, 
 Waite, & Co., Boston, and which have obtained a circulation 
 and celebrity more extended perhaps than any production tiiat 
 ever issued from the American Press, are written with all the 
 quaint simplicity of the style of Fielding, and abound in pas- 
 sages of infinite drollery and exquisite humor. It would ap- 
 pear that the Major since quitting the peaceful abode of the 
 little village of Downingville and the company of Aunt 
 Nabby and Uncle Joshua, has become quite dazzled with the 
 splendor of our imperial court of Washington, and the inti- 
 macy with the " Gin'ral" and other grandees of the " Kitchin 
 Kabinety Pie now disdains any longer to grope in the ob- 
 scure columns of a newspaper and comes forth accoutered in 
 all the aristocratic armory of authorship, and we have no 
 doubt from the imposing and formidable attitude in which he 
 now appears, and the universal popularity of his writings, that 
 he will achieve new triumphs in the reputation he has already 
 acquired. 
 
 About the same time, the National Gazette at Phila- 
 delphia, then conducted by the distinguished Robert 
 Walsh, bore the following high testimony. 
 
 [From Walsh's National Gazette.] 
 It has been the fate of all successful authors to have counter- 
 feits, who deal with their originals as Hamlet says that some 
 players imitate nature. The Rabelais, the Swifts, the Vol- 
 taires, suffered in their day by the productions of interlopers 
 of the sort. Mere bunglers attempted to personate them, 
 and confounded the less discriminating or critical part of the 
 
26 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 reading public. Major Jack Downing has paid in like man- 
 ner the penalty of genius and popularity ; and he has com- 
 plained of the hardship and injustice in a characteristic vein. 
 We humbly advise him to write over the whole story of Pre- 
 sident Jackson's late expedition. It might confidently be pre- 
 dicted that a full narrative from his pen, duly authenticated, 
 would obtain as much vogue in these United States, as did 
 Peter Plymley's Letters in Great Britain." 
 
 So great was the popularity of Major Downing dur- 
 ing the " Gineral's" administration, that the artists all 
 over the country were in a " terrible taking" to get a 
 glimpse of him, so that they might make out some kind 
 of a likeness. One of the most successful efforts of the 
 artists for this purpose was described in the following 
 communication published in the New York Journal of 
 Commerce. 
 
 [For the Journal of Commerce.] 
 While in Boston, I visited the Athenaeum Gallery of paint- 
 ings, and there I saw the portrait of the immortal Jack Down- 
 ing, that wonderful traveller and commentator on the sayings 
 and doings of our great men, the President's right-hand man, 
 and the individual on whom it is said the learned fraternity at 
 Cambridge conferred the title of A. S. S. which Jack says, 
 being interpreted, means " Amazin Smart Skoller." Per- 
 haps your readers might be interested in a brief description 
 of the person of this singular genius, as represented by the 
 portrait. It is said to be a phrenological head, of which the 
 critics in Boston and elsewhere speak very highly. It is the 
 production of Mr. Harris, a young artist in Portland, Me. 
 Jack is about forty years old, thick set and stoutly built, — 
 his features bold and strong, — complexion florid and healthy, — 
 nose a little aquiline, — yellow hair, with a cow-lick on the top 
 of the head. But his expression is inimitable. The whole 
 face, in the words of the Boston Globe, " beams .with a char- 
 acteristic expression and sly humor of a shrewd, thriving, 
 and full blooded yankee. It is a sort of humanized Silenus, 
 with a breadth and vividness of sensual roguery in the ex- 
 pression of the mouth, which Rubens would have turned to 
 good account in one of his Bachanalian groups." 
 
 Jack Downing's letters first appeared in the Portland Daily 
 Courier, about three years since, when he introduced himself 
 as an honest farmer from Downingville, on a visit to Portland 
 
JACK DOWNING 'S LETTERS. 27 
 
 for the purpose of selling a load of bean-poles ; but happening 
 in at the Legislature tiien in session, he became interested — 
 forgot his bean poles, commenced commenting on their pro- 
 ceedings, (corresponding with " Uncle Joshua," " Cousin 
 Ephrafm," " Aunt Nabb," and others,) and since that time 
 has continued his letters, which have been as extensively 
 copied, perhaps, as any correspond-'nce ever known. — The 
 London papers are now republishing them. 
 
 The portrait in the gallery represents him in the attitude of 
 inditing one of his epistles,— with a copy of the Daily 
 Courier lying beside him, and a full length engraving of " the 
 President" before him. Since the appearance of the portrait 
 in the gallery, there have been a number of other portraits 
 and engravings got up purporting to be Major Downing, but 
 these, I believe, are all a hoax. 
 
 One of the most prominent shoots from the root of the 
 Downing literature of the country, aside from the main 
 tree, sprung up under the name of " Sam Slick." A 
 year or two after Major Downing's letters began to ap- 
 pear in the Portland Courier, the public attention was 
 attracted by a clever little volume entitled " Sam 
 Slick, the clockmaker," which afterwards proved to 
 be from the pen of Judge Halliburton, of Novia Scotia. 
 There was no plagiarism about this little volume ; it 
 had a distinct character and a distinct name ; but its 
 general features, air and manner, showed it to be a le- 
 gitimate offspring of Downingism. Had Major Down- 
 ing never written, the public never would have heard of 
 Sam Slick. This reference is not intended as the least 
 disparagement of Judge Halliburton, who acquired no 
 small fame by his Clockmaker, and a widei reputation 
 by the subsequent observations of Sam Slick in Eng- 
 land. 
 
 Our only object is to do a simple act of justice to our 
 author, Major Downing, and to disabuse the public 
 mind of certain errors and prejudices, by tracing out 
 the origin and progress of Downing literature. We 
 
28 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 might say much more, and we do not see how our duties 
 could have permitted us to say less. Were we to follow 
 the Major through his subsequent career to the close of 
 the " Gineral's " administration, and his connection 
 with the press, the Downing Gazette in Portland, the 
 Bunker Hill in New York, and other periodicals, we 
 should fill a volume. 
 
 But our task is done. We drop the pen with entire 
 confidence that truth is great and will prevail. In ages 
 to come, and in all time, amid all the literary revolu- 
 tions of the world, when critics shall be confounded 
 and the nations delighted by the bursting forth of fresh 
 streams of Downing literature, even then shall i-emote 
 posterity look far back upon the page of history, beam- 
 ing with the steady light of truth, and with grateful 
 hearts and laughing eyes exclaim, " the great author 
 and founder of the Downing school of literature was 
 Major .lack Downing, of Downingville, away down east 
 in the State of Maine." 
 
 The Publishers. 
 
JACK DOWNING'S LETTEES. 
 
 LETTER I. 
 
 To Aunt Keziah Downing, wife of Uncle Joshua, Post- 
 master of Downingville, away down East yi the State of 
 Maine. 
 
 New York, May 3, 1845. 
 
 Dear Aunt: — I s'pose you begin to think by this 
 time it's a good while since I writ to you ; but the 
 truth is, any body might as well try to write a let- 
 ter in a hornet's nest as to try to write one in New 
 York any time for a month before the first of May, 
 especially if they live in a hired house and expect 
 to have to move when May-day comes round ; and 
 that I take it is the case with jest about one half 
 the New Yorkers about every year. It's an awful 
 custom, and where it come from I can't find out ; 
 but it has used me up worse than building forty 
 rods of stone wall, or chopping down ten acres of 
 trees. I haint had my clothes off for a week, and 
 I haint had a quiet night's rest for a month ; and 
 the way my bones have ached would be enough to 
 make a horse cry his eyes out, 
 
 I couldn't write anything to-day but about house- 
 hunting and moving if I should try. Jest to give 
 you a little insight into the common run of this ere 
 business, I'll lay down some of the outlines of it 
 before 1 undertake to tell you how we got through 
 the scrape ourselves. There's two sorts of folks in 
 
 (29) 
 
30 - JACK downin'g's letters. 
 
 this city; and it's such an everlastin' great concern 
 you may well suppose there's about as many as 
 you could shake a stick at of both sorts. One sort 
 is them that lets houses, and t'other sort is them 
 that hires. They call 'em here, landlords and ten- 
 ants. And the way they use each other up isn't 
 slow, I can tell you. They have a regular war 
 every year. The manuvering and twisting, and 
 crowding, and quarrelling, begins to come on in 
 February, and it grows hotter and hotter till the 
 first day of May, when they have the great regular 
 pitched battle. And then sich a rumpus, and sich 
 a route I don't think the world ever see any where 
 else. The children of Israel, that we read about 
 in the Bible, going out of Egypt with their flocks 
 and their little ones, v/asn't no touch to it. The 
 landlords generally lead, because they have the 
 most money to carry on the war ; but that don't 
 discourage the tenants so but that they renew the 
 fight again the next year as hard as ever. The 
 tussle is all about the price of rents ; the landlords 
 want to get 'em up higher, and the tenants want to 
 get 'em down lower ; and when so many thousand 
 of 'em on both sides fairly come to the scratch, 
 they make hot work of it. 
 
 The landlords have a way here sich as I don't 
 think they have any where else in the world, of let- 
 ting their houses for just exactly one year from the 
 first day of May, twelve o'clock at noon. And 
 they make the tenants hire the houses in February 
 for the next year. And if they don't hire 'em then, 
 and agree to pay what the landlord asks, be puts a 
 handbill on to the house, saying '"this house to let," 
 and the first day of May, at twelve o'clock, if the 
 tenant isn't out, an officer goes and puts him into 
 the street neck and heels, with his wife and children, 
 and all his housen-stuff", whether they have any 
 place to put their heads in or not — that is, if the 
 
JACK downing' S LETTERS. 81 
 
 tenant has paid up his rent; if he hasn't, the land- 
 lord nabs the housen-stufF and sells it at vandue. 
 
 They build all sich great costly houses here, that 
 nobody but smart folks that's got plenty of money 
 can live in a whole house to themselves ; so com- 
 mon sort of folks have to take parts of houses. 
 We've been living most of the time since we've 
 been here, in the third story of one of 'Squire 
 Sharp's houses. 'Squire Sharp is a little black- 
 eyed, slender, peaked-nosed man, that looks as 
 though he might crawl through a square of seven 
 by nine glass, if the glass was fairly out, and not 
 squeeze him neither. Now most of the great rich 
 folks, that own so many houses here, are large, fat, 
 red-faced men, that ride about in their carriages 
 most of the time, and when they walk look as 
 though they'd step right over common folks' heads. 
 They get most of their rents, because their tenants 
 are so awful 'fraid of 'em, that they about as lieves 
 die as not to pay 'em. But it aint so with 'Squire 
 Sharp. Somehow, nobody don't seem to be afraid 
 of him, and yet he don't loose hardly any of his 
 rents. He's the keenest hand to make a bargain 
 that ever I see, and he gets his rents by looking af- 
 ter 'em ; he fairly dogs it out of his tenants ; and 
 if any of 'em happen to give him the slip, he's as 
 keen as a bloodhound to scent 'em out, and he'll 
 follow 'em day and night till he gets it. He's as 
 thin as a bed-post, and always looks as holler as if 
 he hadn't eat any thing for a week. But he's a rich 
 man for all that. He owns the whole block where 
 we've been living, seven or eight great three story 
 brick houses, besides ever so many more round the' 
 city. 
 
 We had two rooms and two bedrooms, as I said 
 afore, in the third story.' Cousin Nabby and the 
 two youngest children slept in one bedroom, and 
 Jackv and Ichabod in t'other bedroom, and wife 
 
32 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 and I in one of the large rooms. T'other room we 
 had to cook and eat m. I paid eighty dollars a 
 year rent. When I went to hire it, 1 wasn't dress- 
 ed very slick, and 'Squire Sharp looked at me as 
 much as five minutes, and eyed me from top to toe 
 before he give me any answer. At last, says he, 
 
 " Who's your security ?" 
 
 Says I, " I never asked any body to be bonds- 
 man for me yet in my life, and I shan't begin to- 
 day, I guess." 
 
 So 1 turned round and was going to clear out. 
 But says he, 
 
 "Stop, Mister! I don't know as it will make 
 much odds ; for I always let them third stories 
 payable weekly in advance ; and you can have it 
 in that way for eighty dollars a year." 
 
 As I couldn't do any better jest then, I concluded 
 to take it ; so we moved in. Every Monday morn- 
 ing for three weeks the 'Squire come round as 
 regular as clock-work, and took his week's advance. 
 But about the middle of the fourth week, which was 
 the second or third day of February, he come in 
 and says he, 
 
 " Major Downing, I've come to see if you are go- 
 ing to engage this tenement for the next year ?" 
 
 •' Well, 'Squire," says I, " I guess I can tell you 
 that better when this year is out. And besides, 
 'Squire, you know I don't hire your house by the 
 year ; I hire it by the week." 
 
 " It isn't so," says he ; " you hire it by the year, 
 and pay by the week." 
 
 "But how can I hire by the year," says I, "when 
 you told me, at the time 1 hired it, that you couldn't 
 engage it only till the first of May ?" 
 
 " Why," says he, " all our rent years begin the 
 first of May, and I let it to you for the balance of 
 the year. Now, if you are a mind to engage it for 
 a year from the first of May, payable weekly in 
 
JACK DOWi:^l^^a i,^ leitiuis. 66 
 
 advance, you can have it ; and I'll draw up the 
 writings and have 'em fixed to-day." 
 
 " But, 'Squire," says I, " now, how onreasonable 
 that is! Only jest think of it: Here it is three months 
 before the tirst of May, and who knows but what 
 we may all be dead before that time ? And besides 
 I may have some business to do somewhere else by 
 that time, and shan't want to live here any longer. 
 No, no, 'Squire ; let these three months run out, and 
 then, if I want to stay here, and we can agree, I'll 
 hire it again." 
 
 At that the 'Squire colored up a little, and says 
 he, "Major Downing, I can't do any sich thing. If 
 you want the house next year, you must engage it 
 now, and sign the papers ; if not, I shall put a bill 
 on the house, * to let.' I can't break over any of 
 our rules." 
 
 •* Well," says I, " 'Squire, I never was drove yet 
 by any man in my life, and I guess I shan't be to- 
 day. You may do as you like ; but as for hiring a 
 house before I know whether I shall want it or not, 
 I shan't do no sich thing." 
 
 At that the 'Squire cleared out and went off. The 
 next morning I heard a little hammering on the side 
 of the house, and I looked out, and there was the 
 'Squire, nailing up a bill, with large letters on it, 
 " THIS HOUSE TO LET." And I lookcd along, and I 
 see there was jest sich a bill on every house in the 
 block. Thinks I, what's to pay now? I guess some 
 terrible overturn has happened to the 'Squire or his 
 tenants, to break 'em all up in a heap so. I felt 
 kind of uneasy about it ; so, after breakfast, I took 
 my hat, and went out, and walked a mile or two 
 about the city. And I soon found that whatever 
 the troutle might be between the 'Squire and his 
 tenants, the same trouble had spread all over the 
 city ; for in every street I went through, it seemed 
 to me one half the houses had bills on 'em, to let. 
 3 
 
34 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 Well, thinks I, I'm glad I didn't engage that house 
 of 'Squire Sharp, for there's sich an everlastin' 
 sight of houses to let now, it's a wonder to me if I 
 don't find one pretty cheap. So I went home, and 
 told Polly all New York was to let, and I guessed 
 we should find a house next year cheap enough. 
 
 I hadn't hardly got sot down after I come in, be- 
 fore I heard a knock at the door ; and says I " come 
 in." And in come a great, stout, fat, squaddy wo- 
 man, and says she, " I see this tenement in the third 
 story, is to let, and I jest want the privilege of look- 
 ing at it a little to see if I can make it do for my 
 family." 
 
 "Certainly, marm," says I, for I always pride my- 
 self in bein perlite to the ladies. " Polly, jest show 
 the lady the rooms." So Polly went round to show 
 her the house. 
 
 " Which is the parlor ?" said the fat lady. 
 
 " This is the fore-roomf said Polly ; " but we 
 use it to sleep in as we are rather scant of room." 
 
 " Oh, marcy," said the fat lady ; " how can any- 
 body think of living without a parlor 1 It must be 
 dreadful vulgar. Well, which is the kitchen ?" 
 
 So Polly showed her the kitchen, though she was 
 jest cooking dinner, and the dinner things was all 
 round jest as it happened. I see Polly felt a little 
 uneasy about it, and colored up when she asked to 
 go into the kitchen, for you know, Aunt, that Polly, 
 though I say it myself, was always as neat as wax- 
 work, and never could bear to have anybody look 
 into the kitchen unless everything was put up as 
 neat as a pin. Howsomever, she opefied the door, 
 and the fat lady marched in. 
 
 '• Oh, marcy on us," said she, ""this'll never do for 
 my family at all. There's no convenience about it; 
 only one little stived up closet. Oh, it'll never do 
 for me at all ; how can you get along with it ?" 
 
 Polly told her it wasn't so handy as some kitchens, 
 but we made out to do with it very well. 
 
JACK downing's letters. 35 
 
 " Well" said she, " let me see the sleeping rooms." 
 So Polly opened the bed-room doors ; and the 
 fat lady lifted up her hands and declared she would 
 as soon sleep in a pig's pen and done with it, as to 
 go into sich little mean stived up places as them. 
 Then she went back again into the kitchen, and 
 looked into the closet, and examined the dishes of 
 bread and butter, and cold meat that was left the 
 day before, and said it was a shame for landlords 
 to build sich ill-contrived houses. Then she took 
 a chair and sot down, for she had talked so much 
 she began to grow a little wheezy. At last she 
 decla ed she wouldn't live in the house if they would 
 give ii to her. I begun to get a little riled, and told 
 her I g aessed she better not think of hiring it then, 
 for I was pretty sure she would find it an awful 
 tiresome business to go up and down three pair of 
 stairs. At that she got up and went out, and slam- 
 med the door tu prett^ hard after her, and never 
 said boo to one of us. 
 
 Well, this was only just the beginning of trouble, 
 for arter that there was a steady stream of folks 
 coming in to look at the house for about two 
 months, commonly as much as five or six a day and 
 sometimes more ; and you may guess a little from 
 the account of the fat laa v what sort of a time we 
 had of it. At last, about the first of April, I looked 
 out one day and I see Squire 'Sharp come and take 
 down the bill of third story to let. And though I 
 knew then I should have to move, whether or no, 
 I felt glad the bill was down, because it v^uld stop 
 that everlasting stream of folks coming in and both- 
 erin of us so every day, Polly began to grow un- 
 easy now, because we hadn't got no house, and 
 said I ought to go a house hunting jest as every bo- 
 dy else did, or else we should be turned out of doors 
 bime by. So I told her I'd go at it next day, and 
 make a business of it, and follow it up till I got a . 
 
86 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 house. Accordingly the next day I went at it, and 
 I found it a pesky sight worse job than I expected. 
 The bills wasn't near so thick as they was two or 
 three weeks before ; but still I thought they was so 
 plenty, there would be no trouble in finding a house. 
 I went round the upper part of the city, because 
 folks said rents was a good deal cheaper up there 
 than down in town. At last I found part of a house 
 that I thought looked as if it would do nicely ; and 
 looked at the bill and it said inquire sich a number 
 in Wall street. Well, I started off to Wall street, 
 and after walking about two miles and a half I got 
 there and found the place, and come to inquire the 
 rent, it was two hundred and fifty dollars. I c juldn't 
 afford to give more than eighty or a hundi ed dol- 
 lars rent, so back I went to take another hunt. At 
 last I found one that looked as though it might be 
 a good deal cheaper, and I looked at the bill, and 
 that said inquire at another number in Wall street. 
 So I posted down agnin and found the place and 
 inquired the rent. It was a hundred and fifty dol- 
 lars. I was studying the matter over to see if it 
 would do for me to think of giving so much, when 
 the man asked me how much family I had. I told 
 him there was myself and wife and cousin Nabby 
 and six children. At that, says he, " We never let 
 it to children ;" and he .hot the door and went in. 
 So there I found I was up a tree again. I had got 
 so tired by this time, and it had got to be towards 
 night, tljjit I thought I v/ould give it up for a bad 
 days work, and go home. When I got home I 
 found Polly almost tired to death, for' she had felt ■ 
 so uneasy for fear we should be turned out of doors 
 bime by, that she had been out most all day house- 
 hunting too. But she hadn't made out any better 
 than I did. I told Polly she better stay at home 
 and take care of the children, and not worry her- 
 self about it, and Fd foller the business up till I got 
 
JACK downing's letters. 37 
 
 a house at some rate or other. So the next morn- 
 ing 1 started again, and I trampoosed the city from 
 one end to 'tother, lengtirways, and crossways, and 
 cornerways ; but I didn't make out any better than 
 I did the day before. In the morning I would find 
 a bill on a house that looked as if it might do, and 
 come to read it, it would say, to be seen only from 
 two to five in the afternoon ; and in the afternoon I 
 would fiind a bill that would say, to be seen only 
 from ten to twelve in the morning. And then again 
 I would see a house that looked about right, and I 
 would step up to the door and ask if I might look at 
 it, and they would say, that they had so much 
 trampling over the house they couldn't have any 
 more of it, and shet the door and go in. Wherever 
 I went I see the streets was full of folks house-hunt- 
 ing, and half the time when I went to look at a bill, 
 there would be so mai^y others bobbing up onto 
 the steps before me that I would have to wait most 
 half an hour before I could get a chance to read 
 it. And when I did get up to it, as likely as 
 not it would say, " This house to let to a small, gen- 
 teel family, without children ;" so there I would be 
 dished again. Once I stood on the steps, reading a 
 bill, and there was a great, fat, greasy-faced wo- 
 man stood right afore me, facing it, reading it tu. 
 She was a cross, sour-looking thing, and looked as 
 if she had lived on hog's fat all her'life — and I think 
 it is pretty likely she had, for the city is full of hogs. 
 You would see more hogs here, in walking the 
 streets for half an hour, than you would see in 
 Downinville ' for a whole year. Well, as I stood 
 opposite that old grease spot, reading the bill, there 
 come up sich a crowd behind me to read the bill 
 tu, that they knocked my head right into her bon- 
 net. By the gracious if my ears didn't ring again ! 
 She slapped her great square hand against the side of 
 my head so hard, it almost knocked me off the steps. 
 
38 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 e 
 
 " You saucy, good for nothing brute," says she? 
 and her eyes were starting out of her head as big 
 as an ox's eyes when he's drawing a heavy load — 
 " haint you no more manners ?" says she, " set out 
 to kiss me so, right here in the street tu, and afore 
 all these folks ?" 
 
 I told her upon my word and honor it was no 
 sich thing. 'Twas the folks behind me that pushed 
 me, and I hadn't the least thought in the world of 
 kissing her. At that I thought she looked Grosser 
 than she did afore, and I jumped off the steps and 
 got away as fast as I could. I went home that 
 night pretty well tired out, and most discouraged 
 about finding a house. But I see Polly grew more 
 uneasy ; so I started again next morning, and kept 
 it up right and tight every day for pretty near a 
 fortnight, till I got the bottoms of my shoes all wore 
 off. Then I stopped one day and got 'em tapped 
 and rested upon 't, and then I went at it again. At 
 last, in the course of my travels, I found three 
 houses that I thought might do, if I couldn't do any 
 better. But the rents was a little too high. They 
 asked me S$90 to $100 a-piece for 'em. I thought 
 they hadn't ought to be more than $80. And folks 
 told me that them that didn't let their houses till 
 about the first of May would have to put their rents 
 down. So I concluded to watch these 'ere three 
 houses, and hold 'on till the last day of April. One 
 was way over towards the North River, pretty 
 well up tiwn, on a cross street leading out of Green- 
 wich street. Two rooms and two b.edrooms, on 
 the second floor. The next was away over 'tother 
 way, beyond the Bowery, towards the East River, 
 and pretty well up towards the Dry Dock. One 
 room in the basement, three in the third story, and 
 one in the attic, if wanted. But the basement was 
 awful wet. 'Tother one was away up the Third 
 avenue, not far from the Alms House. It took me 
 
JACK downing's letters. 39 
 
 about half the day, every day for a fortnight, to go 
 round to these three houses and see that the bills 
 were still on. For I thought as long as I could have 
 my choice of the three I was safe. Well, when it 
 come to be the last day of April, I thought it was 
 time to bring matters to a close. So in the course 
 of the forenoon I walked away up to the Third ave- 
 nue ; that house being a little the cheapest rent I 
 thought on the whole, bein times was very dull, I 
 better take that. They asked ninety-five dollars, 
 but would take ninety for a good tenant. I walk- 
 ed along, thinking I'd try 'em pretty hard for eigh- 
 ty dollars ; and if I couldn't get it for that, I'd offer 
 'em eighty-five ; and if they wouldn't let it for that, 
 I'd take it for ninety. 
 
 At last I came in sight of the house, and looked, 
 but I couldn't see no bill on it. I went up and ask- 
 ed if the house was let, and they said yes, it was let 
 about an hour ago. I turned about and quickened 
 my steps, and walked away down towards the East 
 River house, and thought I'd take it right oif, if I 
 had to give as much as ninety-five dollars for it. 
 Or even I didn't know as I should stick at a hun- 
 dred. When I got in sight of that house, the bill 
 was off of that too. This made me feel a little 
 streaked, and the sweat started out on my forehead 
 pretty fast. I stepped up and asked them if the 
 house was let. They said yes, it was let that 
 morning, and they could a let two or three more 
 jest like it if they'd had 'em. I begun to be afraid 
 now I'd got into rather a bad box. I didn't dare 
 to go home and tell Polly how things looked ; and 
 as it was now but little arter noon, I thought I'd run 
 round two or three streets, and see if I couldn't 
 hunt up some houses. So 1 pulled foot, and hunted 
 and sweat, till I got so tired I couldn't but jest 
 stand. There was a good many bills up, but some- 
 how I couldn't find any that would seem to do. 
 
40 JACK DOWKINd'S LETTERS. 
 
 They was all too high rent, or they wouldn't take 
 children, or something or other was in the way. I 
 felt pretty bad. So I thought I'd go home and tell 
 Polly the worst on't, and go up and see if the Green- 
 wich house was gone too. When I come to tell 
 her about it, she showed a little dander. 
 
 " Now, Jack," says she, " if you have delayed so 
 long that we've lost the chance of getting a house, 
 and have to be turned out of doors to-morrow, I 
 shall lay it all to you, every bit of it. I must say 
 you might a known better." 
 
 Now Polly doesn't hardly ever give me a hard 
 word, and come to have this from her, poured right 
 on top of the trouble I was in about a house, made 
 me feel bad, aunt Keziah, I can tell you. But I told 
 Polly, frettin wouldn't help the matter a bit, and if 
 she'd give me a mouthful of bread and butter, I'd 
 go and try once more. At that she come tu a lit- 
 tle, and sot on some bread and butter, and then we 
 started off together. We went all round over the 
 place they call Greenwich village, though if I was 
 to die I couldn't tell it from the city ; but we didn't 
 find a single house or part of a house that would 
 seem to do, till we got up to a cross street, where 
 the house was that I'd picked out afore. As soon 
 as we turned round the corner, and come in sight 
 of that are house, I looked and the bill was on. If 
 I'd a had a half a ton weight took oif my shoulders 
 I couldn't a felt lighter than I did that minit. It 
 was about sunset, and the last day of April. The 
 old folks that owned the house, and liv^d in the 
 lower part of it, were standing out on the steps and 
 looking very wistfully, first up the street and then 
 down the street, and I knew by their looks they felt 
 as if it was their last chance, for if they didn't let it 
 that night, may be they wouldn't let it for the whole 
 year. I give Polly's arm a jerk, and whispered to 
 her, and says I, " Now do you keep still as a mouse 
 
JACK downing's letters. 41 
 
 and not appear as though we wanted a house much, 
 and I'll get that house tor lower rent yet." 
 
 We walked along up in a careless kind of a way, 
 as if we wasn't looking for any thing. Then we 
 stopped a little and looked up to the house, and 
 says I, 
 
 " Mister, you've got to let your house lay over 
 this year, haven't you ?" 
 
 " Well," says he, " I don't know ; the man that 
 talked of taking it hasn't come yet ; but he may be 
 here this evening." 
 
 " Well, Mister," says I, " what'll you take for 
 them rooms in the second story I" 
 
 " Aint you suited yet f says he, eyeing us very 
 sharp, and stepping down oft" the steps. 
 
 ** Not exactly," says 1. *' If I could get your 
 house low enough, I don't know but I might take 
 it." 
 
 " Well," says he, " I've calculated to get a hun- 
 dred dollars for it ; but bein it's getting late I'll let 
 it go for ninety." 
 
 I told him I couldn't give that, but if he'd a mind 
 to let it go for seventy Yd take it. He said he 
 couldn't think of that ; though he didn't know, for 
 a good tenant and good security, he might say 
 eighty, to a quiet family without children. 
 
 At that, Polly couldn't help putting in a word in 
 spite of all I'd said to her ; and says she, 
 
 " I should like to know how the New Yorkers 
 expects folks to get along in this world without 
 children." 
 
 " Ah, then you have children," said the old gen- 
 tleman, changing his manner in a moment. " Well, 
 there's a great difference in children. Some fami- 
 lies keep 'em very quiet, while in others they are 
 desput troublesome. I dare say you keep yourn in 
 good order." 
 
 " Well," says I, " I must be agoin ; I can't think 
 
42 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 of paying eighty dollars." And I began to edge 
 along a little. 
 
 " Mister," says he, " if you take the house, what 
 kind of security will you give me ?" 
 
 " Oh," says I, " I'll pay the rent every week in 
 advance, if you want it. But I can't give eighty 
 dollars." 
 
 " Well," says he, "you may have it for seventy- 
 five, and that's the lowest." 
 
 " rU^take it," says I, "and here's a silver dollar 
 to bind the bargain till I move in." 
 
 At that the old man took down the bill, and Polly 
 and I turned to go home to get ready for the great 
 battle the next day. 
 
 And now, Dear Aunt Keziah, I've got to break 
 right off short, for the printer says I've spun my 
 yarn out so long he can't wait for any more. But 
 I'll try to give you an account of the moving in my 
 next letter. Give my love to Uncle Joshua, and I 
 remain your loving nephew. 
 
 Major Jack Downing. 
 
 LETTER II. 
 
 To Aunt Keziah Downing, wife of Uncle Joshua, of Down- 
 ingville, Maine. 
 
 New-York, May 5th, 1845. 
 Dear Aunt : — In my last letter, I told you some- 
 thing about house-hunting in New- York, and the 
 terrible bother landlords and tenants get into every 
 spring ; but the story was so long I had to break 
 off before I said half what I wanted to. And now 
 
JACK downing's letters. 43 
 
 I am going to try to tell you something about moving 
 day. Oh, of all the days in this 'ere world, and I've 
 seen a good many kinds of days in my life-time — 
 I've seen trainin' days, and muster days, and inde- 
 pendent days, and when I lived in Washington 
 along with General Jackson, bless the dear old 
 man ! we used to have Christmas and New- Year's 
 days ; but of all the days that ever I did see in this 
 'ere world, moving-day in New-York is the cap- 
 sheaf. It is no more like the May-days we used to 
 have in Downingville, than a toad under a harrow 
 is like a man on horseback. You know what good, 
 pleasant times we used to have when the first day 
 of May come round in Downingville, how every- 
 thing in the house was all slicked up a day or two 
 beforehand as neat as a pin, and the things in every 
 room all sot to rights, and the children's faces all 
 washed, and their heads combed, and their clean 
 clothes all ready for 'em to put on. And then, 
 about sunrise May morning, what a scampering 
 there was among the children ! They'd come dart- 
 ing out of all the houses like flocks of new butter- 
 flies, all dressed up as neat as pinks, and their eyes 
 glistening and shining like glass buttons. And away 
 they'd fly in whole swarms across the fields, and up 
 on the hills, and away in the w^oods ; and when they 
 come back to breakfast you couldn't tell which was 
 the reddest, their cheeks or the bunches of flowers 
 they had in their hands. And every part of Down- 
 ingville all day would smell as sweet as a rose. 
 
 But 'taint so in New-York, aunt Keziah, not by a 
 jug-full. Everything here on a May-day looks 
 amazin' difterent, and smells amazin' different, I can 
 tell you. But I'll try and see if I can give you some 
 little notion of it. To begin where 1 left off' in my 
 last letter : When I got through making a bargain 
 with old Mr. Johnson, that's the name of the man I 
 hired the house of — when I got through, and the old 
 
44 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 man took the bill down off the house, and I felt sure 
 at last that we'd got a house to go into next day, 
 and shouldn't have to be turned out of doors, Polly 
 and I turned about to go home, a good deal lighter- 
 hearted than we had been before for a fortnight. It 
 was jest beginning to grow dark a little, and we 
 had a considerable ways to go, round ever so many 
 corners, and through a good many streets ; but 
 don't you think there were so many lights it was 
 jest as easy going as it would be in the day time. 
 In all the streets there was long rows of lamps lit 
 on both sides of the streets as fur as you could see ; 
 and you might go round miles and miles, and turn 
 which way you would, you couldn't see no end to 
 lamps. I'll say that for New-York, it's a good 
 deal easier gettmg about here in the night time than 
 it is in Downingville. 
 
 Well, Polly and I jogged along towards home, 
 but we hadn't gone a great ways before we begun 
 to see other great lights in the streets than lamps ; 
 and they begun to grow thicker and thicker in all 
 the streets — great blazing fires, as big as we used 
 to have in the fields when we were burning oflf 
 brush in the spring. What under the sun can all 
 these fires mean ? says I. I begun to be afraid the 
 tenants had come off so bad in the battle with the 
 landlords this time, that they might be layin' a plan 
 to burn up the whole city at once. But Polly said 
 she didn't believe but what they'd begun to turn 
 them folks that hadn't got no houses into the streets 
 already, and they was building up fires to stay by 
 in the night. Poor critters ! says she, how I do 
 pity 'em ! for I know that's what it is. I told her 
 no, she might depend upon't, 'twasn't the rule to 
 turn 'em out till next day at twelve o'clock precisely. 
 
 By this time we got along into a shabby looking 
 street, chock full of hogs and boys, and you couldn't 
 hardly tell which looked the cleanest, or behaved 
 
JACK downing's letters. 45 
 
 the best, the hogs or the boys — nor hardly which 
 was the thickest. Here we come along to one of 
 these ere great fires, and stopt a few minutes to 
 look at it. There was fifty boys round it, poking 
 it with sticks, and hollering and screaming like bed- 
 lam. At last, says I to a little boy that stood near 
 me — 
 
 " My lad, what's the meaning of all these ere 
 great fires about the streets to-night ?" 
 
 " Nothing," says he, " only jest burning up the 
 old straw." 
 
 " What old straw ?" says I. 
 
 " Why, the old beds," says he ; " every body 
 burns up the old straw to night." 
 
 " But," says I, " If every body burns up their 
 beds to-night, what '11 they do to sleep on to-mor- 
 row night i" 
 
 "Oh," says he, "they can get enough more to 
 the flour and feed stores to-morrow." 
 
 At that all the other boys, that had been a looking 
 and listening to hear what we said, sot up such a 
 giggling and a hurraying, it fairly made some of the 
 four-legged pigs snort and run. And then one lit- 
 tle sassy rascal come up within about ten foot of 
 me, and stood and put his thumb up agin the side 
 of his nose, and looked up with an awful sassy look 
 at me, and hollered out, " ain't yo green ?" And 
 then he pulled foot and run for fear I should be arter 
 him. But I didn't mind nothin' about him, though 
 the boys all lafFed again as if they'd split. Bime- 
 by out came a couple of dirty looking gals from a 
 dirty looking house, lugging along a straw bed, 
 and emptied it on to the tire. 
 
 " Whorah," said the boys, as they run with their 
 sticks and poked the straw into the fire — " Who- 
 rah ; now for roast bed-bugs and fleas. Hark, 
 only hear the flees roar ; and them bed-bugs crack 
 and snap like burning hemlock." 
 
46 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 " Hold your tongues, you sassy brutes," said the 
 gals. 
 
 At that the boys took arter 'em full chisel with 
 handfuUs of burning straw, and the gals run as if a 
 catamount had been arter 'em till they got into the 
 house. 
 
 Polly give my arm a jerk, and begged of me to 
 make haste out of the street. We jogged along 
 again towards home, and we didn't get into any 
 other street quite so bad as that, though we went 
 through a number that didn't smell any too sweet, 
 I can tell you. At last we got home and found 
 cousin Nabby most out of patience waiting for us ; 
 she'd had supper ready an hour, and the youngest 
 children was very tired and fretty. So we sot 
 down to supper, and before we 'd got half through^ 
 somebody knocked at the door. 
 
 " Come in," says I. And the door opened, and 
 in came an Irishman with a basket full of dishes, as 
 much as he could lug. And says he, "Plase yer 
 honor." 
 
 You know, aunt Keziah, how queer these ere 
 Irishmen talk ; it's enough to make a body lafF till 
 his sides aches to hear em talk so broad and un- 
 grammatical. 
 
 " Plase yer honor," says he, " mistress Pinkham 
 wants to know if ye'll be so kind as to be after 
 obleeging her so much as to do her a little kindness 
 jest to let her reposite a few things in one of your 
 rooms to-night. It 'ill be very convaniant for her 
 indade." 
 
 " Who is Miss Pinkham ?" says I. 
 
 " It's the lady that's rinted this tinement, yer 
 honor," says he, " and it '11 be very convaniant for 
 her, if you'll allow her." 
 
 " Oh, yes," says I, "I'm always glad to do a lady 
 a favor if I can ; you may set 'em into the fore 
 room there an' welcome." 
 
JACK downing's letters. 47 
 
 Before he'd got 'em half took out of the basket, 
 n come another chap, luggin four chairs. And then 
 followed a boy with a dish kettle in one hand, filled 
 up with a mess of little things, and the shovel and 
 tongs in 'tother. Then in comes a little gal with a 
 looking glass, and brought it along to Polly, and 
 says she, 
 
 " Ma wants you to set this away very careful, for 
 she wouldn't have it broke for anything in the 
 world, 'twould be sich a bad sign," 
 
 So Polly got up and took the glass and hung it on 
 a nail by the side of ourn. By the time we'd done 
 supper, all hands had been back, and came lugging 
 in another load, and piled it up in the fore-room. 
 And the little girl said, " Ma would come round 
 bime by and see about stoin it away." And back 
 they all went for another load. I see that Polly 
 and cousin Nabby begun to feel a little nettled ; 
 but I told them 'twasn't best to mind it : we should 
 be off to-morrow, and we could put up with a little 
 trouble for one night, jest for the sake of doin a 
 kindness. 
 
 Presently in they come again with as much as 
 they could lug, of all sorts of housen-stuff that you 
 could think on. And at last Miss Pinkham herself 
 come puffin and blowin up three pair of stairs, and 
 come boltin into the kitchen where we was all set- 
 ting ; and who should it be but that same great fat 
 lady that I told about in my last letter, come to ex- 
 amine the rooms the first day the bill was up in 
 February. I didn't feel over and above good na- 
 turcd when I come to see who she was. Polly 
 looked as though she felt a little wiry, and cousin 
 Nabby looked as red as a flash. I'm commonly 
 pretty plain-spoken, you know, ant ; so says I, 
 
 " Miss Pinkham, have you hired these ere 
 rooms ?" 
 
 " Yes," says she, " Fve rented 'em for a year." 
 
45 JACK DOWNING S LETTERS. 
 
 " Well," says I, " what did 'Squire Sharp give 
 Vou to take 'em ?" 
 
 " Do you mean," says she, " what rent I pay for 
 em V 
 
 " No," says I, " what does 'Squire Sharp give 
 you to take 'em ?" 
 
 " Well," says she, " I don't understand sich a 
 question as that ; so you may as well leave off your 
 jokes." 
 
 " But when you was here lookin at these ere 
 rooms, last February," says I, " you said you 
 wouldn't live in 'em if any body'd give 'em to you." 
 
 " Well," says she, " I thought I shouldn't like 'em 
 very well at first ; but on the whole I think it's 
 quite a nice place — the rooms are so snug and gen- 
 teel." 
 
 " Why, yes," says I, " I think it quite a good place 
 for eighty dollars." 
 
 " Eighty dollars !" says she, " I hope you don't 
 think I give eighty dollars for it. I know how to 
 work Squire Sharp better than that. I run it down 
 to him to the lowest notch ; told him there wasn't 
 a single convenience about it ; only one little stiv- 
 ed up closet, and 'twas all up and down stairs, and 
 I didn't believe he could hardly hire a decent family 
 to live there. I offered him fifty dollars, and stuck 
 to it about two months, and he stuck to eighty, and 
 said he wouldn't take a penny less. But at last this 
 morning, I asked him if he was going to let me 
 have the rooms for fifty dollars ; if not I was going 
 right off to take another house that I had had the 
 offer of a great deal cheaper. At that h6 looked as 
 if he'd bite a board nail off, and says he, if you're a 
 mind to give me sixty dollars you may have it, and 
 that's the lowest. Nobody shall have it for less 
 than that if I have to shut it up for a whole year. 
 Well I told him I'd take it ; so I got it for sixty dol- 
 lars, and glad enough was I, for I'd made up my 
 
JACK BO'^'XTXa's: LETTERS. 49 
 
 mind to give eighty if I couldn't get it for no less. 
 And now if you'll jest let me stow away a few- 
 things here to-night, it'll be a great convenience to 
 me. It's sich an awful job to move May-day, I 
 want to get clear of as much of it as I can." 
 
 You know, I'm one of those sort of folks, if any 
 body asks a favor of me, I can't never refuse, so I 
 told her yes, she might stow in what she'd a mind 
 to. But' I didn't s'pose she was going to bring in 
 much more, for they'd got our fore room piled up 
 so full then that we couldn't hardly get across it to 
 go to bed. You know Polly and I had our bed in 
 the fore-room, because we hadn't ony two sleepin 
 rooms, and cousin Nabby and the two youngest 
 children slept in one, and Jacky and Ichabod in 
 'tother. So I thought of course she wouldn't bring 
 in nothin more that night, ony put to rights a little 
 what was already there, bein it was getting pretty 
 late in the evening. But I was mistaken, for we 
 hadn't hardly done talking, when her regiment of 
 Irishmen and boys and gals come clattering up the 
 stairs again with loads of barrels and bedsteads, 
 and pots and kettles, and washstands, and chairs, 
 and baskets of tin dishes, and I don't know what 
 all. Poor Polly began to look a little streaked, and 
 I thought myself it was crowd in a little too hard. 
 So I told Miss Pinkham I thought she better let the 
 rest be till mornin, for if they brought in much more 
 we should all get mixed up so bime by, 'twould be 
 difficult to pick our things out when we came to 
 move. But she said, O no, she'd help to do all 
 that ; and 'twould be so very convenient for her to 
 bring in a few more things to-night ; and 'twouldn't 
 be any trouble to us at all. And then she turns 
 round to her company, and says she, ' Come, boys 
 and gals, make haste back and bring in some more 
 as fast as you can." 
 
 Then she went along to our bed and felt of it. 
 
50 JACK downing's lettees. 
 
 and says she, " Oh, marcy, you havn't carried out 
 your straw yet ; I hope you aint a goin to leave 
 that till to-morrow ; 'twill clutter the house all up 
 when we shall want to be a setting up our things. 
 Do pray carry it out to-night ; there's fires enough 
 in the street now." 
 
 At that Polly said she guessed I better carry it 
 out, as she sposed 't was the custom for every body 
 to do it. So at it I went and carried down the 
 straw beds, and lugged them off a few rods to one 
 of the fires, and emptied 'em out. As I turned 
 round the corner by tother end of our block, there 
 was a couple of men walked before me, talking to- 
 gether, and I knew in a minute one of em was 
 'Squire Sharp's voice. T'other one was a short fat 
 gentleman, that seemed to be in a good deal of a 
 pet because he couldn't let his houses. 
 
 " What, havn't you let yourn yet," says the 
 Squire. 
 
 " No," says the fat gentleman, " I've got six good 
 houses now that aint let, besides several parts.- — 
 Hang the housen, and tenants too. I wish I didn't 
 own one. If all my property was in bank stock, or 
 something else, that would bring me four per cent. 
 I should be glad." 
 
 " Well," says 'Squire Sharp, " I always make it 
 a pint to let all my tenements before the first oi 
 May, whether or no. If I can't get one price I take 
 another ; and I makes all my houses net me eight 
 per cent, good." 
 
 Thinks I, Mr. fat gentleman, if you was as lean 
 as 'Squire Sharp is, and looked after your houses 
 as close, you'd get eight per cent, too. 
 
 " I always think it's the best way," says 'Squire 
 Sharp, " to let 'em at all events before the first ol 
 May, and get what you can. And then be sure and 
 look arter the rents and not loose 'em. I didn't let 
 my last tenement till this morning. I always asked 
 
JACK downing's letters. 51 
 
 * 
 
 eighty dollars for it; but I let it go for sixty. And 
 if the woman had sot out to a gone away without 
 taking of it, I should a let her had it for fifty. But 
 the main thing is to collect your rent, after all, I 
 don't think I've lost fifty dollars of my rent these five 
 years." 
 
 " Zounds," said the fat gentleman," I've lost more 
 than three thousand during that time. But I'm de- 
 termined to look after em more close in future. 
 Now I think on't there's Miss Pinkham owes me 
 more than two quarters I'ent now ; and I'll nab 
 her furniture the first thing to-morrow morning 
 arter breakfast ; for I've been told she's a little 
 slippery about rents." 
 
 " She's the very woman," says the Squire, " that 
 took my tenement this morning. But I'm safe, for 
 I make her pay weekly in advance. That's the 
 way I serve all my tenants that I aint sure about." 
 
 " Well," said the fat gentleman, " I guess you'll 
 have to let your rooms to somebody else arter alJ ; 
 for I'm determined to stop Miss Pinkham's furniture 
 to-morrow morning, the first thing arter breakfast." 
 
 At that I couldn't help lafihn in my sleeve a 
 little, for I thought I could begin to see how the cat 
 was jumpin'. And thinks I, Mr. fat gentleman, I 
 guess you aint in the habit of getting up any too 
 early in the morning; and I shouldn't be afraid to 
 wage a large potato you wont be up in time to nab 
 that are housen-stuff of Miss Pinkham's arter all. 
 By this time I'd got out of their hearing, and they 
 went along, and I went home. When I went up 
 stairs, I found they'd got the floor of the fore room 
 all covered with housen-stuff", from one to two feet 
 deep, and had begun to pile it up round the kitchen : 
 and Miss Pinkham was hurrying her boys and gals 
 and her stout Irishman to make haste and bring in 
 as fast as they could. And they kept it agoin right 
 and tight till about midnight, and then I could see 
 
52 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 « 
 
 by the tag ends of all sorts of matters and things 
 that begun to come along, that they was about 
 winding up the business. 
 
 Polly is naterally very kind, you know, and hates 
 to hurt any body's feelings, or disappoint 'em if she 
 can help it ; so she tried to put up with it the best 
 way she could. But she begun to grow most heart- 
 sick about it ; for you know how neat Polly always 
 keeps everything about her house, and a good deal 
 of Miss Pinkham's truck that they'd piled about our 
 fore- room and kitchen was dirty enough to turn a 
 dog's stomach. And there we'd got to sleep right 
 among it till next morning. But still Polly didn't 
 make no complaints, though I see she felt bad 
 enough. Cousin Nabby had got tired and gone to 
 bed with the two youngest children about ten 
 o'clock. Jacky and Ichabod had kept their eyes 
 wide open till eleven, and then they begun to nod 
 about and fall over the housen-stuff, so we sent 
 them off to bed in 'tother bed-room. And now 
 the clock had struck midnight, and Polly and I 
 grew very tired and sleepy, and hoped Miss Pink- 
 ham and her boys and gals would clear out and let 
 us have a little chance to rest afore morning. But 
 when they got through bringing up their truck, the 
 Irishman stepped up to her and asked for his 
 pay. She told him to call the next day. But he 
 said no, he was to have his pay as soon as his work 
 was done. She told him he seemed to be dreadful 
 fraid of losing two shillings ; but she shouldn't pay 
 him till next day at any rate. He said it wasn't 
 two shillings ; he was to have half a dollar, and he 
 was to have his pay that night, and he would have 
 it, and he wouldn't go away without it, at all, at all. 
 
 At that she ketched up a chair and told him " if 
 he didn't get down stairs in a minit she'd beat his 
 brains out, a good-for-nothin' imperdent brute." 
 
 And down the feller run as if he'd break his neck, 
 
JACK downing's letters. 53 
 
 and whether he's got his half dollar yet I don't 
 know. Polly looked as if she'd faint away, but I 
 told her I'd seen worse squalls than that, when I 
 used to live to Washington, with Gineral Jackson. 
 
 " Now we've got all our things here," says Miss 
 Pinkham, " I guess we'll spread down the carpet, 
 and some rugs and bedclothes, and sleep here in 
 the kitchen to-night, for I wouldn't disturb you in 
 'tother room where you sleep, on no account. I'm 
 one of them sort of folks that always hates to 
 trouble a body." At that she began to haul the 
 dusty things about, to make up a bed on the kitchen 
 floor. I told her, any way she'd a mind to fix it, 
 if she'd only get quiet pretty soon, so we might get 
 a little rest afore daylight. 
 
 " But where be I goin to sleep, mother ?" says her 
 great lubberly boy, that had been fetchin' up housen- 
 stufF all the evening. " I aint agoin' to sleep here 
 on the floor long with you and the gals I guess." 
 
 "Well, Jimmy," says Miss Pinkham, " I guess 
 Miss Downing will let you sleep in the bed-room 
 long with her two little boys. But you must mind 
 and not wake 'em up so as to be a trouble ; I hate 
 to be a trouble to any body." 
 
 Polly looked as if she'd die ; but she began to 
 be so afraid of Miss Pinkham after she took up the 
 chair to the Irishman, that if she'd ask'd for our 
 bed, I don't think but what she would agm it right 
 up to her, and slept on the floor ourselves, I thought 
 I wouldn't interfere about it, for I knew there would 
 be a fuss if I did, and I thought it was high tiuie 
 we all of us had a little rest. 
 
 So Jimmy went off* to bed, in the bed-room, and 
 Miss Pinkham and her two gals camped down on 
 the kitchen floor, and Polly and I clambered along 
 as well as we could over the heaps of housen-stutf 
 to our bed in the fore-room. Arter we'd laid about 
 an hour, and I begun to feel kind of drowsy, and 
 
6:4 JACK DOWNma'S LETTERS. 
 
 thought I should get a nap, I heard a rumpus in 
 the kitchen. And bimeby I heard Miss Pinkham 
 thumping away at the bed-room door, and calUng 
 Jimmy. He didn't answer till she went clear in 
 and give him a shake, and says she, 
 
 " Jimmy, you didn't bring that grid-iron and 
 poker, that stood in the cellar-way, now." 
 
 "Yes, I did," says he, " I brought it myself." 
 
 " No you didn't," says she, " for I haint seen no- 
 thin of it." 
 
 " I did bring it," says he, " and put it into a barrel 
 behind the door in the fore-room." 
 
 " You sure 1" sa5''s she. 
 
 " Yes I am sure ; I remember." 
 
 " I don't believe a word on't," says she, " but I'll 
 knov/." 
 
 So, in she come, bolting into our room, and fum- 
 bled and clambered along in the dark, till she got 
 to the barrel behind the door, and felt in it, and 
 says she, 
 
 "Well, I declare, 'tis here arter all. Jimmy has 
 an excellent memory." 
 
 In climbing back again, over the housen-stufF, 
 somehow or other she stumbled, headlong among 
 the bedsteads and barrels, and screamed out, 
 
 " Oh dear, I've half broke my head ; Miss Down- 
 ing, have you got any camfire ?" 
 
 There, ant Keziah, I've got to break right off 
 short again before I get through the story about 
 the movin, for the printer says he can't stand no 
 longer yarn to-day. But I'll sartinly give you the 
 upshot on't about movin day in my next. 
 
 So I remain your loving nephew. 
 
 Major Jack Downing. 
 
JACK downing's letters. 55 
 
 LETTER III. 
 
 To Aunt Keziah Downing, wife of Uncle Joshua, of Down- 
 ing villa, Maine. 
 
 THE UPSHOT OF THE STORY ABOUT MOVING. 
 
 New York, May 8, 1845. 
 
 Dear Aunt Keziah, — -As I was a saying in my 
 last letter, Miss Pinkham tumbled headforemost 
 among the barrels and bedsteads, and heaps o' 
 things in our fore-room, and screamed out, " Oh 
 dear, Miss Downing, have you got any camfire ? 
 oh, I'm half killed." 
 
 At that, Polly sprung out of bed like a shot. 
 There's no body has more feelin' for a fellow- 
 creeter than Polly has, tho' I say it iinyself ; and 
 the way she runs when she sees anybody in dis- 
 tress is a caution, I can tell yc, to all the chairs and 
 barrels and bed-posts that stand in the way. Polly 
 was kind of half awake and half asleep : I don't 
 think she'd fairly got her eyes open, and if she had 
 it wouldn't a made much odds, for it was dark as 
 Egypt. And being waked all of a sudden right 
 out of a sound sleep, for she'd got to sleep, thoup-h 
 I hadn't, she'd forgot all about the trumpery that 
 was piled about the room, and startin' off the bed 
 like a stream of lightning, the first thing that brought 
 her up was a basket of Miss Pinkham's crockery 
 stuff. She pitched right over it and went sprawl- 
 ing on to the floor ; and the tea-cups and the mugs 
 and the pitchers flew as if they'd been struck with 
 a thunder squall. At that, Miss Pinkham bawled 
 out again, and by the sound I knew she was up 'n 
 eend and climbled over the barrels ; and says she, 
 
 " Now, Miss Downing, what have you done ? If 
 you've broke my new blue set, you'll wish you 
 hadn't I can tell ye." 
 
56 JACK downinq's letters. 
 
 Polly didn't make no answer, but only groaned ; 
 and I knew in a minute she was hurt pretty bad ; 
 so I thought it was time for me to begin to muster. 
 I got out of bed as careful as I could, and went 
 feelin' my way along into the kitchen, and at last I 
 found a loco-foco match and lit a candle. 
 
 " Don't bring that light here," says Miss Pinkham 
 says she, " 'till you hand me my gownd." 
 
 Says I, "I don't know nothin' about your gownd, 
 nor I can't stop to look for't now." So I threw a 
 blanket to her, and told her she might rap herself 
 up in that. I found Polly wasn't hurt quite so bad 
 as I was afraid she was. She had bruised one of 
 her arms considerable, and struck the side of her 
 head pretty hard when she fell. But she soon be- 
 gun to get over it, and said she guessed she wasn't 
 hurt much. 
 
 Miss Pinkham took on as bad as ever, and said 
 she should die if she didn't have some camfire to 
 put on her head ; and she dim along over the things 
 and threw herself right on to our bed. 
 
 "Poor creetur," says Polly, " vv^e must do some- 
 thing for her as quick as we can. Do, Jack, hand 
 me that bottle of camfire on the upper shelf in the 
 closet." 
 
 So I went and got the camfire and Polly sot to 
 and rubbed the old lady's head about a quarter of 
 an hour, and she got to sleep and lay and snored 
 like a boss. I told Polly I guessed she better lay 
 down aside of her and try to get some sleep tu, 
 and I'd set up the rest of the night and be ready 
 airly in the morning to go to packing up. But 
 Polly said she was afraid of disturbin' of her. so 
 she laid down on the rugs in the kitchen to rest her 
 and get a little nap. I knew there wasn't no more 
 sleep for me that night ; so arter Polly got to sleep 
 I concluded to go out and take a run ; for I always 
 found that was the best way to keep my eyes open 
 
JACK downing's letters. 57 
 
 when there wasn't no chance to sleep. The long 
 rows of lamps was still burning by the sides of the 
 streets, and I walked round and round from one 
 street to another, till it got to be daylight, and then 
 1 turned to go home, for I meant to be driven busi- 
 ness pretty airly. 
 
 When I got along within two or three streets of 
 home, there was a couple men turned the corner 
 right afore me, and I walked along arter 'em. 
 Pretty soon I saw one of 'em was that short, stout, 
 fat landlord that I see the night afore talking with 
 'Squire Sharp. And says he to the man that was 
 with him, 
 
 " You've got your warrant, haint ye ?" 
 
 "Yes," says the other, who I begun to think by 
 this time, was a constable or some kind of an offi- 
 cer, for he carried a great, heavy cane in his hand, 
 and looked kind of savage-like. 
 
 " Well," says the stout landlord, " you must take 
 every single thing there is in the house, and hold 
 on to it, and if they don't settle the rent, we'll sell 
 'em at vendue to-morrow. Here's the house ; now 
 do your duty. I'll stand here on the steps till you 
 get fairly in and take possession." 
 
 At that, thinks I, I'll stop a little and see what's 
 going on here. I stood over on t'other side of the 
 street, but it was so still I could hear all they said, 
 for it was so airly in the morning there wasn't but 
 very few folks a stirrin'. The officer stepped up 
 to the door and rung the bell. He waited a minute 
 and nobody didn't come, and then he rung again. 
 Nobody didn't come that time, and then he rung 
 again, harder than he did afore. Then the land- 
 lord stepped up to the door and thumped on to it 
 with his fist, and says he, 
 
 " There's none so deaf as them that won't hear ; 
 but they needn't think to work us in this way. 
 This door's got to come open by fair means or foul. 
 
58 JACK DOWNINa'S LETTERS. 
 
 and I'll be the first person that goes through it, if 1 
 have to stand here all day." 
 
 And then he thumped on to the door again with 
 his fist, and the officer rung the bell harder than 
 ever. And they kept at it pretty tight, first one 
 and then t'other, for about ten minutes, and they 
 made sich a racket that the neighbors begun to 
 open their blinds and window-shutters, and look 
 out to see what was the matter. And a little old 
 man poked his bald head out of the third story 
 window, right over where I stood, and says he, 
 
 " What are y« making all that clatter over there 
 for 1 I don't believe you'll raise anybody if you 
 thump all day." 
 
 " Why, aint Miss Pinkham and her family to 
 home ?" says the landlord. 
 
 " Well, I don't believe there's a soul in the house," 
 said the little old man — '* if there had been you'd 
 raised 'em long ago." 
 
 " But they haven't moved, have they ?" says the 
 landlord. 
 
 " It's a wonder to me if they haven't," said the 
 old man over my head, " for they was to work till 
 almost midnight, last night, carrying out their 
 things." 
 
 At that the landlord and the officer looked kind 
 of thunderstruck. 
 
 " Do you know where they've moved to ?" says 
 the officer. 
 
 "I don't know nothing about it," said the little 
 old man, " nor I don't care, if they wont come back 
 to our neighborhood again ; for of all the women 
 to get into every's mess and upset everybody's dish. 
 Miss Pinkham beats all that ever I see." 
 
 " And I don't see but she's dished us too," said 
 the officer. " Well, Mr. Brown, what shall we do 1 
 How shall we find out where she's gone to V 
 
 " Oh, I can find that out easy enough," says Mr. 
 
JACK dovv'kikg's letters. 59 
 
 Brown, " for she's took one of 'Squire Sharp's 
 houses. But we'll go in by hook or by crook ; 
 may be she hasn't got all her things away yet." 
 
 So they went down to the basement door — that 
 means a door that goes into a room about halfway 
 between a cellar and a room above ground — most 
 all the houses here in New York have 'em — and 
 they both give a shove against the door as tight as 
 they could, and bust it right open. And they went 
 in and looked all over the house, and come out 
 again lookin": sour enough. Mr. Brown used some 
 pretty harsh words, and swore a little. 
 
 " That's always my luck," says he. " Now she's 
 gone with two quarters rent, and the house is dam- 
 aged as much as another quarter's rent besides. 
 This is too bad ; I had no idea but I should be air- 
 ly enough to grab her furniture this morning." 
 
 Thinks I, Mr. Brown, getting up airly one morn- 
 ing in the year aint quite enough, where a man has 
 slippery folks to deal with, for sich folks commonly 
 want looking after every da}^ airly and late. 
 
 They turned and went away, and I turned tother 
 way and went home. It had now got to be all 
 broad daylight, and there begun to be considera- 
 ble of a bustle in the streets, and the doors and 
 windows began to be opened, and the hoss-carts 
 began to rattle along over the stones in the streets, 
 and to back up to the doors, and folks was lug- 
 ging out their housen-stufl' and piling it on the carts, 
 as fast as we used to pitch hay in haying-time in 
 Downingville when there was a ' shower coming 
 up. So I thought it was time for me to begin to 
 hurry, for I hadn't got any of my things packed up 
 yet, though I meant to a had 'em pretty much all 
 packed up the night afore, if Miss Pinkham hadn't 
 bothered us so. When I got up stairs, I found the 
 whole biling of 'em was up, and in pretty consider- 
 able kind of a muss. Things was all pitch-poled, 
 
GO JACK- downing' 3 LETTERS. 
 
 helter-skelter, and mixed up as thick again as tney 
 was when I went out. Polly sot in the corner, 
 looking as if she hadn't a friend in the world, and I 
 believe she was crying a little. Her arm was quite 
 lame. Miss Pinkham was stavin' about like a 
 house-a-fire. She'd pulled our children out of bed, 
 and they was scuddin' about half-dressed, and the 
 little ones was crying ; and then she'd pulled and 
 hauled all our things out of the two bed-rooms, and 
 piled 'em about in the fore-room and kitchen, so 
 that it was no small job to get across the rooms 
 anywhere ; and she was fast a getting some of her 
 bedsteads and things into the bed-rooms to set up. 
 
 " Says I, " Miss Pinkham, what upon airth are 
 you doing ?" 
 
 " What am I doing?" says she — "why, I'm put- 
 ting things to rights. I want to get 'em all out of 
 the way snug, so as not to be any trouble to you ; 
 for I don't, s'pose there anybody in this world that 
 hates to be a trouble to anybody in this world 
 worse than I do. And I wouldn't have you think, 
 because you let me bring my things in here before 
 it was my time to come in, that I mean to be the 
 least trouble to you in the world." 
 
 " Oh, no," says I, -" Miss Pinkham, I don't think 
 no such thing, by no means. But perhaps if you'd 
 let my things stand till I got ready to pack 'em up, 
 I might know better where to take hold of 'era." 
 
 " Oh no," says she, " they're all out on the floor 
 there now as handy as can be lor ye. And I've 
 got your closet all cleared out too ; and n.ow if 
 you'll jest take hold of t'other side of this ere bask- 
 et of crockery, and help me carry it in the closet, 
 I'll be settin' it up." 
 
 So I took hold of the basket, and helped her along 
 Vi^ith it, and says I — 
 
 " Miss Pinkham, I was very sorry about the acci- 
 
JACK dowxixct's letters. G1 
 
 dent that happened to your dishes last night. I 
 hope it didn't break much." 
 
 " Only three cups and two sarcers and a mug," 
 says she, " and Miss Downing's was so much like 
 em we've matched em again very well out of hern 
 this morning ; all but the mug, and that I told her 
 she might pay me the money for. It cost fifteen 
 pence when 'twas new, but bein it had an old crack 
 in it, I told her she needn't pay me but a shilling for 
 it." 
 
 The foct was, Polly had got so kind of nervous, 
 and so afraid of Miss Pinliham, that I dont believe 
 but what she would a gin her up every dish we 
 had in the house if she'd asked for em. I didn't 
 like this way of settling the business very well, and 
 couldn't help thinkinV? about the hed^e-hog that beg- 
 ged his way into the woodchuck's hole, only jest to 
 lay and rest him a little while, and then crowded 
 and crowded until he drove the woodchuck clear 
 out, and kept possession of the nest and all there 
 was in it. But I see Miss Pinkham was sich a tiery 
 piece, and as long a^ we had got to go out, I thought 
 the cheapest way was to say nothing and get away 
 us easily as we could. And it wasn't long before 
 I was still more confirmed in this opinion ; for we 
 hadn't but jest set the basket of crockery into the 
 closet, when somebody knocked at the door. 
 
 " Come in," says I. And wlio should come in, 
 but the fat landlord, Mr. Brown, and the officer 
 that I'd seen with him. Miss Puikham's face turn- 
 ed as red as fire in a minute, and she shet the 
 closet door and took a chair and sot down. 
 
 " You've moved, haven't you. Miss Pinkham ?" 
 said Mr. Brown, looking pretty starn at her. 
 
 " Yes, I have," says she, looking as starn as he 
 4id. 
 
 " Well, when are you going to pay that rent ?" 
 
62 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 says he, gritting his teeth together, and edging 
 along up to her. 
 
 " When I get it," says she, sticking her chin out 
 at him, and showing her teeth, hke a cat that turns 
 round to fight a dog that's drove her into a corner. 
 " And I guess I shant worry myself about it, if 
 'taint paid very soon," says she, " for you never 
 kept that house in any kind of repairs, Mr. Brown, 
 and you know it. 'Taint scarcely fit to live in." 
 
 " Every thing was in good order when you went 
 into it," says he, and all the rent you've ever paid. 
 I've laid out in repairs ; and now it wants fifty dol- 
 lars more laid out right upon it before it will be fit 
 for any body to go into. There isn't a window in 
 the house but what's got glass broke out of it.' 
 
 " Well, I don't know nothing about how that 
 come," says she, " we didn't break none of it." 
 
 " Well," says he, " I must have this rent or some 
 security for it, before I leave the house, or I shall 
 take some of your furniture and sell it for what 
 t'will fetch. You've got lots of it piled about here." 
 
 At that Miss Pinkham begun to rave. She 
 sprung up on her feet, and stood and looked Mr. 
 Brown in the face, and she grew as red as a blaze. 
 And says she, 
 
 " You touch any of this furniture if you dare. 
 And these things about here aint mine neither, 
 they're Mr. Downing's." 
 
 At that Mr. Brown turned to me, and says he, 
 " Mr. Downing, is this furniture yourn ?" 
 
 I wasn't no notion of telling a Jiefor any of 'em. 
 So, says I, " Some on't 's mine, and some on't isn't." 
 
 " Well," says he, " which is yourn, and which is 
 Miss Pinkham's." 
 
 Says I, ' She's got matters so mixed up here, 
 'twould take pretty considerable of a spell to pick 
 em out I guess. But most of these things about the 
 middle of the room is mine, and most of them are 
 
JACK downing's letters. G3 
 
 things heaped along that side of the fore-room and 
 that side of the kitchen is hern. 
 
 Then he stepped along, and began to look em over, 
 and told the officer to take this thing and that thing 
 and 'tother thing. But Miss Pinkham ketched up 
 a chair and went at him like a tiger, and says she, 
 
 " Mr. Brown, if you aint out of this house in one 
 minute, I'll break this chair over your head." And 
 she fetched a blow at him, that, if he hadn't a 
 dodged it, would a laid him sprawlin. He sprung 
 for the door, and she after him pell-mell. He 
 scrabbled down stairs as fast as he could waddle 
 his heavy fat sides along, and she arter him, hold- 
 ing the chair up jest ready to strike. When they 
 got about half-way down stairs, she happened to 
 slip, and pitched forward against Mr. Brown, and 
 that knocked him down, and away they rolled like 
 a couple of hogsets of molasses clear to the bottom 
 of the stairs. Mr. Brown was rather more scared 
 than hurt, for he* thought the old woman had 
 jumped right on to him and knocked him down stairs, 
 and he roared out and called for the officer to come 
 and help him. But the officer was making his way 
 as fast as he could down the back stairs, and got 
 out into the street before Mr. Brown did. I looked 
 out of the window, and I see em both jest turning 
 round the next corner, and Mr. Brown was limping 
 along so lame, he couldn't but jest go. Presently 
 Miss Pinkham came puffing along up the stairs, 
 and muttering to herself, " I'll larn him to come here 
 to meddle with my things ; a good-for-nothing 
 brute ; I'll larn him, 1 will." And says she, " Mr. 
 Downing, I broke your chair driving of him out, but 
 I spose you won't mind that, as I did it as much 
 for your good as for mine ; for there's no knowing 
 how many of your things he might a carried off if 
 I hadn't a drove him out." 
 
 I told her it wan't but little consequence about 
 
64 JACK downing's lettees. 
 
 the chair, especially as she had some prett}' much 
 like it, and when we come to load up, she could jest 
 put in one of hern, and that would make it square 
 again. At that she turned round and give me such 
 a look right in the face, that I declare I started back 
 as much as thi'ee feet before I knew it ; and says 
 she, 
 
 " Mr. Downing, if you haint no more gratitude 
 than that, you aint fit to live among Christian 
 people. Do as you would be done by ; that's my 
 rule. After I've drove that brute out of your 
 house, and no doubt kept him from carrying off 
 some of your things, do you dare to ask me to pay 
 for that old chair ?" — and she stuck her chin out 
 and flashed her eyes jest as she did to Mr. Brown. 
 
 " Oh no, mam," says I, " I do^'t wish it by no 
 means. Miss Pinkham." 
 
 So we dropt the subject and said no more about 
 it. If it had been a man I should a known what 
 to a done pretty quick ; for I never was made to 
 be drove by a man. But I thought I wouldn't get 
 into a scrape with a woman if she broke all the 
 chairs in the house. So at it I went to packin up. 
 Polly and Cousin Nabby took hold in good arnest, 
 and Jacky and Ichabod handed and fetched things, 
 so that we got 'em into shape pretty fast. About 
 nine o'clock we'd got our boxes and barrels and 
 chests full, and the small ware and dishes put 
 into the wash-tubs and pots and kettles, and I went 
 out to find a team to haul us. I could find teams 
 fast enough, but the trouble was to get 'em. There 
 wasn't no ox teams sich as we have in Downing- 
 ville ; but there was no end to the one boss teams, 
 haulin little carts, and goin like split all over the 
 city. I run arter one that I see a little ways off 
 with nothin on his cart, and called out to him to 
 stop. He looked round to me and shook his head, 
 and drove on as tight as ever. But I pulled arter 
 
JACK DOWNING 'S LETTERS. 65 
 
 him and hollered again, and swung my hat, and at 
 last he stopt and let me come up to him. Says I, 
 
 " Mister, I want to hire you to go and haul up 
 my housen-stuff, it' you and I can agree." 
 
 He put his thumb up against his nose, and shook 
 his fingers at me, and says he, 
 
 " You must be a green one, and no mistake." 
 And he gin his boss a cut, and his wheels flew over 
 the stones again as fast, and made as much of a 
 rattlin, as cousin John Smith's drumsticks when 
 he's beatin for the regiment muster days. 
 
 Then I see another drivin along full chisel, but his 
 cart was empty, so 1 hollered arter him. He slacken- 
 ed his boss a minute, and when I told him what I 
 wanted, he said he couldn't go no how, for he'd got 
 fourteen loads engaged to-day, and that was as 
 much as he could possibly get through with, and 
 work half the night too. So he whipped up, and 
 off he went like smoke. I called arter another, and 
 he only shook his head and drove on. I run round 
 from one street to another for about an hour, and 
 my stars ! I wouldn't a believed there was so much 
 housen-stuff in America. Every street was full of 
 loaded carts and empty carts. All the empty ones 
 was driving like Jehu, and some of the loaded ones 
 was goin so fast I thought they'd smash every 
 thing all to atoms, except now and then one, where 
 the owner of the housen-stuff was goin along with it 
 to watch it. At last, after trying a good many of 'em, 
 I found one that said he didn't know but he might go. 
 
 " Well," says I, " Mister, what'U ye ask ?" 
 
 " Two dollars and a half a load," says he. 
 
 " But that's a most unreasonable price," says I. 
 
 " Can't help that," says he, " nobody don't take 
 any less to-day. And some of 'em gets three or 
 four dollars a load. Come, speak quick, if you 
 want me," says he, " for I can't wait." 
 
 "Well, now," says I, "Mister, that price is beyond 
 5 
 
Q6 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 all reason. Couldn't you and I work it so as to 
 change works 1 I'm sure I should be willing to do 
 you as good a turn as you would me. If you'll go 
 and work for me half a day with yourself and 
 hoss, I'll work for you a whole day, and take my 
 Jacky with me, and he's a smart boy most fourteen 
 years old." 
 
 At that, I'll be hanged if he didn't put his thumb 
 up agin his nose, jest as that teamster did that I 
 stopt first ; it seems to be a kind of a way they 
 have here when they want to be very sassy ; and 
 says he, 
 
 " Rather green, I guess ; when d'ye come down ?" 
 and he gin his hoss a cut and along he went. 
 
 Arter a while I found an old man with a lean old 
 hoss, that had sort of gridiron ribs, and he said he'd 
 go for two dollars a load. I found I was getting 
 into a corner, for it had got to be eleven o'clock, 
 and I'd seen enough of Miss Pinkham to expect 
 she'd begin to reign as soon as the clock struck 
 twelve. So I told the old man he might go ; and 
 we drove home and went to loading. We laid the 
 bedsteads on lengthways, and then the buro on 
 crossways and back down, and next to that come 
 a chist of clothes, and then two tables bottom up- 
 wards, and then two flour barrels full of little 
 things on behind, and a light stand between 'em 
 bottom upwards. And then we filled in a laying 
 of little things all the way from one end to 'tother ; 
 and then we laid on the feather bed that you give 
 Polly when we came away from DowmngviUe ; 
 and then we put on some baskets, the tubs of dishes 
 and things, and rounded off towards the top with 
 bed-clothes, and light truck and then we hung a 
 row of chairs all round on the stakes. By running 
 a rope roynd the stakes and binding up pretty well, 
 the cart took on more than I expected, and I begun 
 to be in hopes we might carry it all to one load. 
 
JACK downing's letters. 67 
 
 The old man said he could carry it all well enough, 
 if I'd a mind to resk it's staying on. So we went 
 to piling on again, and chucking in and filling up 
 all the holes between things. Some of the top 
 things was rather loose and tottlish, so we put Jacky 
 right up top and let him set straddle of the 
 load to steady it. And then we had to give him a 
 basket full of tumblers and glass things to hold in 
 his hand. Cousin Nabby took little Joshy, and 
 Polly took the looking glass, and I took the military 
 coat that Gineral Jackson give me when I lived to 
 Washington, and hung it across my arm, for I never 
 allow that coat to be jammed away into a chist or 
 buro ; and uncle Joshua's portrait, that I've had put 
 into a nice brass frame since we've been here, I 
 took in t'other hand. Then I told the old man he 
 might start along, and we'd walk behind and keep 
 watch. I felt a little anxious about Jacky on top 
 of the load ; but he's a smart boy, and he hung on 
 and managed things pretty well. But sich a sight of 
 teams and folks as there was all along the streets, 
 carryin all sorts of housen-stutf, I don't think you 
 ever see or dreampt of. The streets was full of 
 carts goin' and corain, and the side-walks was full 
 of men, women and children carrying things in 
 their hands. 
 
 When we had got about half way, the cart had 
 got along a little ways a head of us, and I was look- 
 ing back at the crowd behind us, when all to once 
 Polly screamed out " there goes Jacky." 
 
 I looked, and Jacky was dying in the air like a 
 toad from a trap-stick. One of them great boss 
 wagons they call omnibusses here, had run full tilt 
 right against the cart, and knocked every thing into 
 a kind of a cocked hat. It didn't exactly upset the 
 cart, but it knocked otF about one half the top-load, 
 and sent Jacky clear from the middle of the street on 
 to the side walk. The omnibus fellow drove on as 
 
68 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 fast as he could drive, and never stopt to look back. 
 I was afraid Jacky was almost killed, and I run as 
 hard as I could to pick him up ; but he struck 
 pretty much on his feet, and wasn't hurt much arter 
 all. He held on to the basket, but the glass was 
 smashed all to pieces. When Polly came up she 
 couldn't help cryin. But I told her it was no use to 
 cry for spilt milk. Jacky was saved alive, and 
 therefore we had a great deal more to be thankful 
 for than we had to cry for. As for the glass dishes 
 and things we could soon go to work and earn some 
 more, and the best way was to pick up the things 
 and get 'em home as well as we could and make the 
 the best of it. So Polly wiped up, and we all went 
 to work to put things to rights as well as we 
 could. A good many of the things was broke, and 
 some was jammed and twisted out of all shape. We 
 had to pile 'em up on the side walk, and Polly 
 and Nabby stay by "em and watch 'em, while we 
 went along to the house and onloaded what there 
 was left on the cart ; and then we went baSk and 
 picked up the fragments, and about sunset we got 
 'em all tumbled into the house in heaps, and never 
 was I so glad to get through with a job afore in all 
 my life. We made up some beds on the floor that 
 night, and if we didn't sleep I think it's a pity. 
 
 I would tell you a great many queer things, how 
 the great rich folks moved, and how the poor folks 
 moved, and about landlords nabbing housen-stuff" 
 and selling it at vendue, and about some poor cree- 
 ters bein turned out of doors, and no house to put 
 their heads into, and settmg and crying all day and 
 all night out on the side walk. Polly's cried about 
 it a half a dozen times since, she pitied 'em so. 
 But I haint got time to write no moi'e to-day. I 
 hope you and uncle Joshua will come and make us 
 a visit this summer, and then we can tell you all 
 about it. But there's no day in this world, aunt 
 
JACK downing's letters. 69 
 
 Keziah, like May-day in New York, you may de- 
 pend on't. Give my love to Uncle Joshua, and I 
 remain. 
 
 Your loving nephew, 
 
 Major Jack Downing- 
 
70 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 SKETCHES FROM LIFE, 
 
 [Note by the PasLisHERS. The following stories and sketches 
 of humor are inserted at the special request of Major Downing, and by 
 consent of the author. ] 
 
 The names used in the following narrative are of course 
 fictitious ; bat the incidents all occurred substantially as here 
 related, and the parties are respectable gentlemen now living 
 and doing business in this bustling city of New York. The 
 •writer had the acuount directly from the lips of the principal 
 actor. It also should be added that Mr. Sharp described in 
 this article is not Squire Sharp, the landlord, mentioned by 
 Major Downing in his escelleut letters, though it is not im- 
 probable he may be a second or third cousin.] 
 
 PERSEVERANCES 
 OR PETER PUxNCTUAL'S WAY TO COLLECT BILLS. 
 
 BY SEBA SMITH. 
 
 Some few years ago, Peter Punctual, an honest 
 and industrious young fellow from Yankee land — I 
 say Yankee land, but I freely confess that is merely 
 an inference of mine, drawn from circumstances of 
 this story itself; but if my readers, after perusing 
 it, do not come to the same conclusion, they may 
 set him down as coming from any other land they 
 please ; but for myself, were I on a jury, and under 
 oath, I would bring him in a Yankee. This same 
 Peter Punctual, some few years ago, came into 
 New York, and attempted to turn a penny and get 
 an honest living by procuring subscribers to vari- 
 
JACK downing's letters, 71 
 
 ous magazines and periodicals, on his own hook. 
 That is, he would receive a quantity of magazines 
 from a distant publisher, at a discount, and get up 
 his own list of subscribers about the city, and serve 
 them through the year at the regular subscription 
 price, which would leave the amount of the said 
 discount a clear profit in his pocket, or rather a 
 compensation for his time and labor. There are 
 man)^ persons in this city who obtain a livelihood in 
 the same way. 
 
 Peter's commissions being small, and his capital 
 still smaller, he was obliged to transact his business 
 with great care and circumspection, in order to 
 make both ends meet. He adopted a rule therefore 
 to make all his subscribers pay their year's sub- 
 scription in advance. Such things could be done 
 in those days when business was brisk, and the peo- 
 ple were strangers to " hard times."' In canvassing 
 for subscribers, one day, through the lower part of 
 the city, and in the principal business streets, he ob- 
 served a store which had the air of doing a heavy 
 business, and read upon the sign over the door, 
 " Solomon Sharp, Importer" of certain wares and 
 merchandize. The held looked inviting, and in 
 Peter went with his samples under his arm, and in- 
 quired for Mr. Sharp, The gentleman was point- 
 ed out to him by the clerks, and Peter stepped up 
 and asked him if he would not like to subscribe for 
 some magazines. 
 
 " What sort of ones have you got there?" said 
 Mr. S. 
 
 " Three or four different kinds," said Peter, laying 
 the specimens on the desk before him — " please to 
 look at them and suit yourself," 
 
 Sharp tumbled them over and examined them 
 one after another, and at last took up " Bucking- 
 ham's New England Magazine," published at Bos- 
 ton. 
 
72 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 " What are your terms for this ?" said he ; "I 
 don't know but I would subscribe for this." 
 
 " Five dollars a year in advance," said Peter, " to 
 be delivered carefully every month at your store or 
 house." 
 
 " But I never pay in advance for these things," 
 said Sharp. " It's time enough to pay for a thing 
 when you get it. I'll subscribe for it, if you have a 
 mind to receive your pay at the end of the year, 
 and not otherwise." 
 
 " That's against my rule," said Peter ; " I have 
 all my subscribers pay in advance." 
 
 " Well, it's against my rule to pay for anythmg 
 before I get it," said Sharp ; " so if you haven't a 
 mind to take my subscription, to be paid at the end 
 of the year, you won't get it at all. That's the long 
 and the short of the matter." 
 
 Peter paused a little, and queried with himself as 
 to what he had better do. The man was evident- 
 ly doing a large business, and was undoubtedly 
 rich — a wholesale dealer and an importer — there 
 could not possibly be any danger of losing the sub- 
 scription in such a case : and would it not be bet- 
 ter to break over his rule for once, than to lose so 
 good a subscriber. 
 
 " Well, what say ?" said Sharp ; " do as you 
 like ; but those are my only terms. I will not pay 
 for a thing before I get it." 
 
 " On the whole," said Peter, " I have a good mind 
 to break over my rule this time, for I don't like to 
 lose a good subscriber when I can find one. I be- 
 lieve I'll put your name down, sir. Where will 
 you have it left ?" 
 
 " At my house," said Mr. Sharp, which was 
 about a mile and a half from his store, away up 
 town. 
 
 The business being thus concluded, Peter took 
 up his magazines, bade Mr. Sharp good morning, 
 
JACK downing's lettehs. 73 
 
 and left the store. No further personal intercourse 
 occurred between them during the year. But Pe- 
 ter, who was his own carrier, as well as canvasser, 
 regularly every month delivered the New England 
 Magazine at Mr. Sharp's door. And in a few days 
 after the year expired, he made out his bill for the 
 five dollars, and called at Mr. Sharp's store for the 
 money. He entered with as much confidence that 
 he should receive the chink at once, as he would 
 have had in going with a check for the like sum in- 
 to the Bank of the United States, during that insti- 
 tution's palmiest days. He found Mr. Sharp at his 
 desk, and presented him the bill. That gentleman 
 took it and looked at it, and then looked at Peter. 
 
 " Oh ! ah, good morning," said he, " you are the 
 young man who called here on this business nearly 
 a year ago. Well, the year has come round, has 
 it?" 
 
 " Yes, I believe it has," said Peter. 
 
 " Well, bills of this kind," said Mr. Sharp, " are 
 paid at the house. We don't attend to them here ; 
 you just take it to the house, any time when you are 
 passing, and it will be settled." 
 
 " Oh, very well, sir," said Peter, bowing, and left 
 the store. " Doing too large a business at the store, 
 I suppose," he continued, to himself, as he walked 
 up the street, " to attend to little things of this kind. 
 Don't like to be bothered with 'em, probably." 
 
 But Peter thought he might as well make a finish 
 of the business, now he was out ; so he went di- 
 rectly to the house, and rung at the door. The 
 servant girl soon made her appearance. 
 
 " Mrs. Sharp within ?" said Peter. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the girl. 
 
 " Jest carry this bill to her, if you please, and ask 
 her if she will hand you the money for it." 
 
 The girl took the bill into the house, and present- 
 ly returned with the answer, that " Mrs. Sharp says 
 4 
 
T4 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 she doesn't pay none of these 'ere things here — you 
 must carry it to the store." 
 
 " Please to carry it back to Mrs. Sharp," said 
 Peter, " and tell her Mr. Sharp desired me to bring 
 the bill here, and said it would be paid at the 
 house." 
 
 This message brought Mrs. Sharp herself to the 
 door, to whom Peter raised his hat and bowed very 
 politely. 
 
 " I haven't nothing at all to do v/ith the bills here 
 at the house," said the lady ; " they must be car- 
 ried to the store — that's the place to attend to them." 
 
 " Well, mam," said Peter, " I carried it to the 
 store, and presented it to Mr. Sharp, and he told 
 me to bring it to the house and you would pay it 
 here, and that he couldn't attend to it at the store." 
 
 " But he couldn't mean that I should pay it," said 
 Mrs. Sharp, " for he knows I haven't the money." 
 
 " But he said so," said Peter. 
 
 "Well then there must be some mistake about 
 it," said the lady. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, mam," said Petei% " it's pos- 
 sible there may be," and he put the bill in his pock- 
 et, bowed and left the house. 
 
 " It is very queer," thought Peter to himself as 
 he walk away a little vexed. " I can't conceive 
 how there could be any mistake about it, though it 
 is possible there may be. There couldn't be any 
 mistake on my part, for I'm sure I understood him. 
 May be he thought she had money at the house 
 when she hadn't. I guess it will all come out right 
 enough in the end." 
 
 Consoling himself with these reflections, Peter 
 Punctual thought he would let Mr. Sharp rest two 
 or three days, and not show any anxiety by calling 
 again in a hurry. He would not be so unwise as 
 to offend a good subscriber, and run the hazard of 
 losing him, by an appearance of too much haste in 
 
JACK DOWNINa'S LETTERS. 75 
 
 presenting his bills. Accordingly, in about three 
 days, he called again at Mr. Sharp's store, and ask- 
 ed* him in a low voice, so that no one should over- 
 hear, if it v^^as convenient for him to take that little 
 bill for the magazine to-day. 
 
 " But I told you," said Mr. Sharp, " to carry that 
 bill to the house ; I can't attend to it here." 
 
 " Yes, sir, so I understood you," said Peter, " and 
 I carried it to the house, and Mrs. Sharp said she 
 couldn't pay it there, for she had no money, and I 
 must bring it to the store." 
 
 " Oh, strange," said Mr. Sharp ; " well, she didn't 
 properly understand it then. But I am too much 
 engaged to attend to you to-day ; you call again, or 
 call at the house sometime, when I am there." 
 
 Upon this, he turned to his desk and began to 
 write with great earnestness, and Peter left the 
 store. The afiair began to grow a little vexatious, 
 and Peter felt a little nettled. Still, he supposed 
 that people doing such very large business did tind 
 it difficult to attend to these little matters, and 
 doubtless it would be set right when he should call 
 again. 
 
 After waiting patiently a couple of weeks, Peter 
 called again at Mr. Sharp's store. When he enter- 
 ed the door, Mr. Sharp was looking at a newspa- 
 per ; but on glancing at Peter, he instantly dropped 
 the paper, and fell to writing at his desk with great 
 rapidity. Peter waited respectfully a few minutes, 
 unwilling to disturb the gentleman till he should ap- 
 pear to be a little more at leisure. But after wait- 
 ing some time without seeing any prospect of Mr. 
 Sharp's completing the very pressing business be- 
 fore him, he approached him with delerence, and 
 asked if it would be convenient for him to take that 
 little bill for the magazine to-day. Sharp turned 
 and looked at Peter very sternly. 
 
 " I can't be bothered with these little things," said 
 
76 JACK downinq's letters. 
 
 he, " when I am so much engaged. I am exceed- 
 ingly busy to-day — a good many heavy orders 
 waiting — you must call at the house, and hand the 
 bill to me or my wife, no matter which." And he 
 turned to his desk, and continued to write, without 
 saying anything more. 
 
 Peter began to think he had got hold of a hard 
 customer : but he had no idea of giving up the 
 chase. He called at the house several times after- 
 ward, but Mr. Sharp never happened to be at home. 
 Once he ventured to send the bill again by the girl 
 to Mrs. Sharp, who returned for answer, that she 
 had nothing to do with such bills ; he must carry it 
 to the store. 
 
 At last, after repeated calls, he found Mr. Sharp 
 one day at home. He came to the door, and Peter 
 presented the bill. Mr. Sharp expressed some sur- 
 prize and regret that he had come away from the 
 store, and forgot to put any money in his pocket. 
 Peter would have to call some other day. Accord- 
 ingly, Peter Punctual retired, with a full determin- 
 ation to call some other day, and that not very far 
 distant ; for it had now been several months that 
 he had been beaten back and forth like a shuttle- 
 cock between Mr. Sharp's store and Mr. Sharp's 
 house, and he was getting to be rather tired of the 
 game. 
 
 Having ascertained from the girl at what hour 
 the family dined, he called the next day precisely 
 at the dinner hour. He rung at the door, and when 
 the girl opened it, Peter stepped into the hall. 
 
 " Is Mr. Sharp in ?" said Peter. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the girl ; " he's up stairs. I'll 
 speak to him if you want to see him." 
 
 " Yes," said Peter, " and I'll take a seat in the 
 parlor till he comes down." 
 
 As he said this, Peter walked into the parlor and 
 seated himself upon an elegant sofa. The parlor 
 
JACK downing's letters. 7T 
 
 was richly furnished with Brussels carpet, the best 
 of mahogany furniture, a splendid piano, &c., &c. ; 
 and in the back parlor, to which folding doors were 
 open, everything appeared with corresponding ele- 
 gance. A table was there spread, upon which din- 
 ner seemed to be nearly ready. Presently the girl 
 returned from the chamber, and informed Peter, 
 that Mr. Sharp said " it was jest the dinner hour 
 now, and he would have to call again." 
 
 " Please to go and tell Mr, Sharp," said Peter, 
 " that I must see him, and I'll wait till he comes 
 down." 
 
 The girl carried the message, and Mr. Sharp 
 soon made his appearance in the parlor. A frown 
 passed over his brow as he looked at Peter and 
 saw him sitting so much at ease, and apparently so 
 much at home, upon the sofa. Peter rose and ask- 
 ed him politely if it was convenient for him to take 
 that little bill to-day. 
 
 " No," said Sharp, " it is not ; and if it was. .1 
 wouldn't take it at this hour. It's a very improper 
 time to call upon such an errand just as one is go- 
 ing to sit down to dinner. You must call again ; 
 but don't call at dinner time ; or you may drop in- 
 to the store sometime, and perhaps I may find time 
 to attend to it there." 
 
 " Well, now, Mr. Sharp," said Peter, with rather 
 a determined look, " I can't stand this kind of busi- 
 ness any longer, that's a fact. I'm a poor man, and 
 1 suppose you are a rich one. I can t afford to lose 
 five dollars, and I'm too poor to spend any more 
 time in running after it and trying to collect it. I 
 must eat, as well as other folks, and if you can't pay 
 me the five dollars to-day, to help me pay my board 
 at my regular boarding-house, I'll stay here and 
 board it out at your table," 
 
 " You will, will you ?" said Sharp, looking dag 
 gers, and stepping toward Peter. " If you give me 
 
78 JACK downing'6 letteks. 
 
 a word of your impudence, you may find it'll be a 
 long time before you collect your bill." 
 
 " It's been a long time already," said Peter, " and 
 1 can't afford to wait any longer. My mind is made 
 up ; if you don't pay me now, I'm going to stay 
 here and board it out." 
 
 Sharp colored, and looked at the door, and then 
 at Peter. 
 
 " Come, come, young man," said he, advancing 
 with rather a threatening attitude toward Peter, 
 " the sooner you leave the house peaceably the bet- 
 ter." 
 
 " Now, sir," said Peter, fixing his black eyes up- 
 on Sharp, with an intenseness that he could not but 
 feel, " I am a small man, and you are considerable 
 of a large one ; but my mind is made up. I am 
 not going to starve, when there's food enough that 
 I have an honest claim upon." 
 
 So saying, he took his seat again very deliber- 
 ately upon the sofa. Sharp paused; he looked ag- 
 itated and angry ; and after waiting a minute, ap- 
 parently undecided what to do, he left the parlor 
 and went up stairs. In a few minutes, the servant 
 rung for dinner. Mrs. Sharp came into the dining 
 room and took her seat at the head of the table. 
 Mr. Sharp followed, and seated himself opposite his 
 lady ; and between them, and on the right hand of 
 of Mrs. Sharp, sat another lady, probably some 
 friend or relative of the family. When they were 
 well seated, and Mr. Sharp was beginning to carve, 
 Peter walked out of the parlor, drew another chair 
 up to the table, and seated himself very composed- 
 ly opposite the last mentioned lady. Mr. Sharp 
 colored a good deal, but kept on carving. Mrs. 
 Sharp stared very wildly, first at Peter and then at 
 her husband. 
 
 "What in the world does this mean?" said she, 
 
JACK DO"WNT]SrG'S LETTl^RS. 70 
 
 " Mr. Sharp I didn't know we were to have com- 
 pany to dinner." 
 
 " Wc are not," said the husband. " This young 
 man has the impudence to take his seat at the table 
 unasked and says he is going to board out the 
 amount of the bill." 
 
 " Well, really, this is a pretty piece of politeness," 
 said Mrs. Sharp, looking very hard at Peter. 
 
 " Madam," said Peter, " hunger will drive a man 
 through a stone wall. I must have my board some- 
 where." 
 
 No reply was made to this, and the dinner went 
 on without any further reference to Peter at pre- 
 sent. Mr. Sharp helped his wife, and then the oth- 
 er lady, and then himself, and they all fell to eating. 
 Peter looked around him for a plate and knife and 
 fork, but there were none on the table but what 
 were in use. Peter, however, was not to be baf- 
 fled. He reached a plate of bread, and tipping the 
 bread upon the table cloth, appropriated the plate 
 for his own convenience. He then took possession 
 of the carving knife and fork, helped himself boun- 
 tifully to meat and vegetables, and commenced eat- 
 ing his dinner with the greatest composure imagin- 
 able. These operations on the part of Peter, had 
 the effect to suspend all operations for the time on 
 the part of the rest of the company. The ladies 
 had laid down their knives and forks, and were 
 staring at Peter in wild astonishment. 
 
 " For mercy's sake, Mr. Sharp," said the lady of 
 the house, " can't we pick up money enough about 
 the house to pay this man his five dollars and send 
 him off? I declare this is too provoking. I'll see 
 what I can find." 
 
 With that she rose and left the room. Mr. Sharp 
 presently followed her. They returned again in a 
 minute, and Mr. Sharp laid a five dollar bill before 
 Peter, and told him he would thank him to leave 
 
80 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 the house. Peter examined the bill to see if it was 
 a good one, and v^ery quietly folded it and put it in- 
 to his pocket. He then drew out a little pocket ink- 
 stand and a piece of paper, laid it upon the table 
 before him, wrote a receipt for the money, which 
 he handed to Mr. Sharp, rose from the table, bow- 
 ed to the company and retired, thinking as he left 
 the house that he had had full enough of the custom 
 of Solomon Sharp, the importer. 
 
 Peter Punctual still followed his vocation of cir- 
 culating magazines. He had no intention of ever 
 darkening the door of Mr. Solomon Sharp's store 
 again, but somehow or other, two or three years 
 after, as he was canvasing for subscribers in the 
 lower part of the city, he happened to blunder into 
 the same store accidentally, without noticing the 
 name upon the door. Nor did he discover his mis- 
 take, until he had nearly crossed the store and at- 
 tracted the attention of Mr. Sharp himself, who was 
 at his accustomed seat at the desk where Peter had 
 before so often seen him. Peter thought, as he 
 had got fairly into the store, he would not back out ; 
 so he stepped up to Mr, Sharp without a look of re- 
 cognition, and asked if he would not like to sub- 
 scribe for some magazines. Mr. Sharp, who either 
 did not recognize Peter, or chose not to appear to 
 recognize him, took the magazines and looked at 
 them, and found a couple he said he would like to 
 take, and inquired the terms. They were each 
 three dollars a year in advance. 
 
 " But I don't pay in advance for anything," said 
 Sharp. " If you have a mind to leave them at my 
 house, to be paid for at the end of the year, you 
 may put me down for these two." 
 
 " No," said Peter, " I don't wish to take any sub- 
 scribers, but those who pay in advance." 
 
 Saying this, he took up his specimens, and was 
 
JACK downtng's letters. 81 
 
 going out of the door, when Mr. Sharp called him 
 back. 
 
 " Here young man, you may leave those two at 
 any rate," said he, " and here's your advance," 
 handing him the six dollars. 
 
 " Where will you have them left 1" said Peter. 
 
 " At my house, up town," said Mr. Sharp, de- 
 scribing the street and number. 
 
 The business being completed, Peter retired, 
 inuch astonished at his good luck. He again be- 
 came a monthly visitor at Mr. Sharp's door, where 
 he regularly delivered to the servant girl the two 
 magazines. Two or three months after this, when 
 he called one day on his usual round, the girl told 
 him that Mr. Sharp wanted to see him, and desired 
 he would call at the store. Peter felt not a little 
 curious to know what Mr. Sharp might have to 
 say to him ; so in the course of the same day he 
 called at Mr. Sharp's store. 
 
 " Good morning," said Mr. Sharp as Peter enter- 
 ed ; " come, take a chair, and sit down here." 
 
 Peter, with a '• good morning, sir," did as he was 
 desired. 
 
 " Ain't you the young man," said Mr. Sharp, with 
 a comical kind of a look, '" who set out to board 
 out a subscription to the New England Magazine, 
 at my house two or three years ago." 
 
 " Yes," said Peter, " I believe I'm the same per- 
 son who once had the honor of taking board at your 
 house." 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Sharp, " I want to give you a 
 job." 
 
 " What is it ?" said Peter. 
 
 " Here, I want you to collect these bills for me," 
 said Mr. Sharp, taking a bundle from his desk, " for 
 .{'11 be hanged if /can; I've tried till I'm tired." 
 
 Whereupon he opened the bundle and assorted 
 6 
 
82 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 out the bills, and made a schedule of them, amount- 
 ing, in the aggregate, to about a thousand dollars. 
 
 *' There," said he, " I will give upon that list ten 
 per cent commission on all you collect ; and on 
 that list I'll give you twenty- fxve per cent on all 
 you collect. What say you? will you undertake 
 the job r 
 
 " Well, I'll try," said Peter, " and see what I can 
 do with them. How soon must I return them ?" 
 
 " Take your own time for it," said Mr. Sharp ; 
 " I've seen enough of you to know pretty well what 
 you are." 
 
 Peter accordingly took the bills and entered on 
 his new task, following it up with diligence and per- 
 severance. In a few weeks he called again at 
 Sharp's store. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Sharp, " have you made out 
 to collect anything on those bills f 
 
 " Yes," said Peter. 
 
 " There were some of the ten per cent Hst that I 
 thought it probable you might collect," said Mr. 
 Sharp. " How many have you collected ?" 
 
 " All of them," said Peter. 
 
 " All of them !" said Sharp ; " well, fact, that's 
 much more than I expected. The twenty-five per 
 cent list was all dead dogs, wasn't it ? You got 
 nothing on them, I suppose, did you V 
 
 " Yes, I did," said Peter. 
 
 " Did you though 1 How much V said Sharp. 
 
 " I got them all," said Peter. 
 
 " Oh, that's all a joke," said Sharp. 
 
 '* No, it isn't a joke," said Peter. " Fve collected 
 every dollar of them, and here's the money," taking 
 out his pocket-book, and counting out the bills. 
 
 Mr. Sharp received the money with the most 
 perfect astonishment. He had not expected one 
 half of the amount would ever be collected. 
 
 He counted out the commissions on the ten per 
 
JACK downing's letters. 83 
 
 cent list, and then the commissions on the twenty- 
 five per cent list, and handed the sum over to Pe- 
 ter, And then he counted out fifty dollars more, 
 and asked Peter to accept that as a present ; " part- 
 ly," said he, " because you have accomplished this 
 task so very far beyond my expectations, and part- 
 ly because my acquaintance with you has taught 
 me one of the best lessons of my life. It has taught 
 me the value of perseverance and punctuality. 1 
 have reflected upon it much ever since you under- 
 took to board out the bill for the magazine at my 
 house." 
 
 " Why yes," said Peter, " I think perseverance 
 and punctuality are great helps in the way of busi- 
 ness." 
 
 " If every person in the community," said Mr. 
 Sharp, " would make it a point to pay all of his bills 
 promptly, the moment they become due, what a 
 vast improvement it would make in the condition 
 of society all round. That would put people in a 
 condition, at all times, to be able to pay their bills 
 promptly." 
 
 We might add, that Peter Punctual afterward 
 opened a store in the city, in a branch of business 
 which brought Mr. Sharp to be a customer to him, 
 and he has been one of his best customers ever 
 since, paying all of his bills promptly, and whenever 
 Peter requires it, even paying in advance. 
 
84 JACK DOWjMTIntg's lettees. 
 
 POLLY GRAY AND THE DOCTORS- 
 
 BY SEBA SMITH. 
 
 It was a dark, and rainy night in June, when 
 Deacon Gray, about ten o'clock in the evening, 
 drove his horse and wagon up to the door, on his re- 
 turn from market. 
 
 " Oh dear, Mr. Gray," exclaimed his wife, as she 
 met him at the door, " I'm dreadful glad you've 
 come ; Polly's so sick, I'm afraid she won't live till 
 mornin', if something ain't done for her." 
 
 " Polly is always ailing," said the deacon delib- 
 erately ; " I guess it's only some of her old aches 
 and pains. Just take this box of sugar in ; it has 
 been raining on it this hour." 
 
 " Well, do come right in, Mr. Gray, for you don't 
 know what a desput case she is in ; I daren't leave 
 her a minute." 
 
 " You are. always scared half to death," said the 
 deacon, " if anything ails Polly ; but you know she 
 always gets over it again. Here's coffee and tea 
 and some other notions rolled up in this bag," hand- 
 ing her another bundle to carry into the house. 
 
 " Well, but Mr. Gray, don't pray stop for bundles 
 nor nothin' else. You must go right over after 
 Doctor Longley, and get him here as quick as you 
 can." 
 
 "Oh, if it's only Doctor Longley she wants," said 
 the deacon carelessly, " I guess she aint so danger- 
 ous after all." 
 
 " Now, Mr. Gray, jest because Doctor Longley is 
 a young man and about Polly's age, that you should 
 make such an unfeelin' expression as that, I think is 
 too bad." 
 
JACK downing's letters. 85 
 
 The deacon turned away without making a re- 
 ply, and began to move the harness from the horse. 
 
 " Mr. Gray, ain't you going after the doctor ?" 
 said Mrs. Gray, with increasing impatience. 
 
 " I'm going to turn the horse into the pasture, 
 and then I'll come in and see about it," said the 
 deacon. 
 
 A loud groan from Polly drew Mrs. Gray hastily 
 into the house. The deacon led his horse a quar- 
 ter of a mile to the pasture ; let down the bars and 
 turned him in ; put all the bars carefully up ; hunt- 
 ed round and found a stick to drive in as a wedge 
 to fasten the top bar ; went round the barn to sec 
 that the doors were all closed ; got an armful of 
 dry straw and threw it into the pig-pen ; called the 
 dog from his kennel, patted him on his head, and 
 went into the house. 
 
 " I'm afraid she's dying," said Mrs. Gray, as the 
 deacon entered. 
 
 " You are always scared half out of your wits," 
 said the deacon, " if there's anything the matter. 
 I'll come in as soon as I've took ofT my coat and 
 boots and put on some dry ones." 
 
 Mrs. Gray ran back to attend upon Polly ; but 
 before the deacon had got ready to enter the room, 
 Mrs. Gray screamed again with the whole strength 
 of her lungs, 
 
 *• Mr. Gray, Mr. Gray, do make haste, she's in a fit." 
 
 This was the first sound that had given the dea- 
 con any uneasiness about the matter. He had been 
 accustomed for years to hear his wife " worry" 
 about Polly, and had heard her predict her death so 
 often from very slight illness, that he had come to 
 regard such scenes and such predictions with as 
 little attention as he did the rain that pattered 
 against the window. But the wordj^^ was some- 
 thing he had never heard applied in these cases 
 before, and the sound of it gave iiim a strange feel- 
 
86 JACK DOWNING S LETTERS. 
 
 ing of apprehension. He had just thrown off his 
 boots and put his feet into dry shoes, and held a 
 dry coat in his hand, when this last appeal came to 
 his ear and caused him actually to hasten into the 
 room. 
 
 " Polly, what's the matter now 1" said the dea- 
 con, beginning to be somewhat agitated, as he ap- 
 proached the bedside. 
 
 Polly was in violent spasms, and heeded not the 
 inquiry. The deacon took hold of her arm, and 
 repeated the question more earnestly and in a ten- 
 der tone. 
 
 " You may as well speak to the dead," said Mrs. 
 Gray ; " she's past hearing or speaking." 
 
 The deacon's eyes looked wild, and his face 
 grew very long. 
 
 " Why didn't you tell me how sick she was 
 when I first got home ?" said the deacon, with a 
 look of rebuke. 
 
 " I did tell you when you first come," said Mrs. 
 Gray, sharply, " and you didn't take no notice on 
 it." 
 
 " You didn't tell me anything about how sick she 
 was," said the deacon ; " you only spoke jest as you 
 used to, when she w^asn't hardly sick at all." 
 
 The subject here seemed to subside by mutual 
 consent, and both stood with their eyes fixed upon 
 Polly, who was apparently struggling in the fierce 
 agonies of death. In a few minutes however she 
 came out of the spasm, breathed comparatively 
 easy, and lay perfectly quiet. The deacon spoke 
 to her again. She looked up with a wild delirious 
 look, but made no answer. 
 
 " I'll go for the doctor," said the deacon, " it 
 may be he can do something for her, though she 
 looks to me as though it was a gone goose with 
 her." 
 
 Saying this, he put on his hat and coat and start- 
 
JACK DOWNING 'S LETTERS. 87 
 
 ed. Having half a mile to go, and finding the doctor 
 in bed, it was half an hour before he returned with 
 Doctor Longley in his company. In the meantime 
 Mrs. Gray had called in old Mrs. Livermore who 
 lived next door, and they had lifted Polly up 
 and put a clean pillow upon the bed, and a clean 
 cap on her head, and had been round and " slicked 
 up" the room a little, for Mrs. Livermore said, 
 " Doctor Longley was such a nice man she always 
 loved to see things look tidy where he was coming 
 to." 
 
 The deacon came in and hung his hat up behind 
 the door, and Doctor Longley followed with his hat 
 in his hand and a small pair of saddle-bags on his 
 arm. Mrs. Gray stood at one side of the bed, and 
 Mrs. Livermore at the other, and the doctor laid 
 his hat and saddle-bags on the table that stood by 
 the window, and stepped immediately to the bed- 
 side. 
 
 •' Miss Gray, are you sick ?" said the doctor, 
 taking the hand of the patient. 
 
 No answer or look from the patient gave any 
 indication that she heard the question. 
 
 " How long has she been ill 1" said the doctor. 
 
 " Ever since mornin'," said Mrs. Gray. " She 
 got up with a head -ache, jest after her father went 
 away to market, and smart pains inside, and she's 
 been growing worse all day." 
 
 " And what have you given her ?" said the doctor. 
 
 " Nothing, but arb-drink," said Mrs. Gray ; 
 " whenever she felt worse, I made her take a good 
 deal of arb-drink, because that, you know, is always 
 good, doctor. And besides, when it can't do no 
 good, it would do no hurt." 
 
 But what sort of drinks have you given her?" 
 said the doctor. 
 
 " Well, I give her most all sorts, for we had a 
 plenty of 'em in the house," said Mrs. Gray. " I 
 
88 JACK downing's letteks. 
 
 give her sage, and peppermint, and sparemint, and 
 cammermile, and pennyryal, and motherwort, and 
 balm ; you know, balm is very coolin,' doctor, and 
 sometimes she'd be very hot, and then I'd make her 
 drink a good dose of balm." 
 
 " Give me a candle," said the doctor. 
 
 The deacon brought a candle and held it over 
 the patient's head. The doctor opened her mouth 
 and examined it carefully for the space of a minute. 
 He felt her pulse another minute, and looked again 
 into her mouth. 
 
 " Low pulse, but heavy and labored respiration," 
 said the doctor. 
 
 " What do you think ails her ?" said Mrs. Gray. , 
 
 The doctor shook his head. 
 
 " Do you think you can give her anything to 
 help her?" said the deacon anxiously. 
 
 The doctor looked very grave, and fixed his eyes 
 thoughtfully on the patient for a minute, but made 
 no reply to the deacon's question. 
 
 " Why didn't you send for me sooner ?" at last 
 said the doctor, turning to Mrs. Gray. 
 
 " Because I thought my arb-drink would help her, 
 and so I kept trying it all day till it got to be dark, 
 and then she got be so bad I didn't dare to leave 
 her till Mr. Gray got home." 
 
 " It's a great pity," said the doctor, tui'ning from 
 the bed to the table and opening his saddle-bags. 
 '• Thousands and thousands of lives are lost only by 
 delaying to send for medical advice till it is too 
 late ; thousands that might have been saved as well 
 as not, if only taken in season." 
 
 " But doctor, you don't think it's too late for Pol- 
 ly, do you ?" said Mrs. Gray. 
 
 " I think her case, to say the least, is extremely 
 doubtful," said the doctor. " Her appearance is 
 very remarkable. Whatever her disease is, it has 
 made such progress, and life is so nearly extinct, 
 
JACK downing's letters. 80 
 
 that it is impossible to tell what were the original 
 symptoms, and consequently what applications are 
 best to be made." 
 
 " Well, now, doctor," said Mrs. Livermore, " ex- 
 cuse me for speakin ; but I'm a good deal older 
 than you are, and have seen a great deal of sick- 
 ness in my day, and I've been in here with Polly a 
 number of times to-day, and sometimes this even- 
 ing, and I'm satisfied, doctor, there's something the 
 matter of her insidcs." 
 
 " Undoubtedly," said the doctor, looking very 
 grave. 
 
 This new hint from Mrs. Livermore seemed to 
 give Mrs. Gray new hope, and she appealed again 
 to the doctor. 
 
 " Well, now, doctor," said she, " don't you think 
 Mrs. Livermore has the right of it ?" 
 
 " Most unquestionably," said the doctor. 
 
 " Well, then, doctor, if you should give her some- 
 thing that's pretty powerful to operate inwardly, 
 don't you think it might help her ?" 
 
 " It might, and it might not," said the doctor ; 
 " the powers of life are so nearly exhausted, I must 
 tell you frankly I have very little hope of being 
 able to rally them. There is not life enough left to 
 indicate the disease or show the remedies that are 
 wanted. Applications now must be made entirely 
 in the dark, and leave the effect to chance." 
 
 At this, Mrs. Livermore took the candle and was 
 proceeding to remove it from the room, when the 
 doctor, perceiving her mistake, called her back. 
 He did not mean to administer the medicine literal- 
 ly in a dark room, but simply in a state of darkness 
 and ignorance as to the nature of the disease. It 
 was a very strange case ; it was certain life oould 
 hold out but a short time longer ; he felt bound to 
 do something, and therefore proceeded to prepare 
 such applications and remedies as his best jndg- 
 
90 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 ment dictated. These were administered without 
 confidence, and their effect awaited with painful so- 
 licitude. They either produced no perceptible ef- 
 fect at all, or very different from the ordinary re- 
 sults of such applications. 
 
 " I should like," said Doctor Longley to the dea- 
 con, " to have you call in Doctor Stubbs ; this is a 
 very extraordinary case, and I should prefer that 
 some other medical practitioner might be present." 
 
 The deacon accordingly hastened to call Doc- 
 tor Stubbs, a young man who had come into the 
 place a short time before, with a high reputation, 
 but not a favorite with the deacon and his family, 
 on account of his being rather fresh from college, 
 and full of modern innovations. 
 
 After Doctor Stubbs had examined the patient, 
 
 , and made various inquiries of the family, he and 
 
 Doctor Longley held a brief consultation. Their 
 
 united wisdom, however, was not sufficient to throw 
 
 any light upon the case or to afford any relief. 
 
 " Have you thought of poison ?" said Doctor 
 Longley. 
 
 " Yes," said Doctor Stubbs, " but there are cer- 
 tain indications in the case, which forbid that alto- 
 gether. Indeed, I can form no satisfactory opinion 
 about it ; it is the most anomalous case I ever knew." 
 
 Before their conference was brought to a close, 
 the deacon called them, saying he believed Polly 
 was a going. They came into the room and has- 
 tened to the bed-side. 
 
 " Yes," said Doctor Stubbs, looking at the pa- 
 tient, " those are dying struggles ; in a short time 
 all her troubles in this life will be over." 
 
 The patient sunk gradually and quietly away, 
 and in the course of two hours after the arrival of 
 Doctor Stubbs, all signs of life were gone. 
 
 " The Lord's will be done." said the deacon, as 
 
JACK downing's letters. 91 
 
 he stood by the bed and saw her chest heave for 
 the last time. 
 
 Mrs. Gray sat m the corner of the room with her 
 apron to her face weeping aloud. Old Mrs. Liver- 
 more and two other females, who had been called 
 in during the night, were already busily employed 
 in preparing for laying out the corpse. 
 
 It was about daybreak when the two doctors left 
 the house and started for home. 
 
 " Very singular case," said Doctor Stubbs, who 
 spoke with more ease and freedom, now that they 
 were out of the way of the afflicted family. " We 
 ought not to give it up so, doctor ; we ought to fol- 
 low this case up till we ascertain what was the 
 cause of her death. What say to a post mortem 
 examination ?" 
 
 '• I always dislike them," said Doctor Longley; 
 "they are ugly uncomfortable jobs ; and besides, I 
 doubt whether the deacon's folks would consent to 
 it." 
 
 " It is important for us, as well as for the cause of 
 the science," said Doctor Stubbs, " that something 
 should be done about it. We are both young, and 
 it may have an injurious bearing upon our reputa- 
 tion if we are not able to give any explanation of 
 the case. I consider my reputation at stake as well 
 as yours, as I was called in for consultation. There 
 will doubtless be an hundred rumors afloat, and the 
 older physicians, who look upon us, you know, with 
 rather an evil eye, will be pretty sure to lay hold of 
 the matter and turn it greatly to our disadvantage, 
 if we cannot show facts for our vindication. The 
 deacon's folks must consent, and you had better go 
 down after breakfast and have a talk with the dea- 
 con about it." 
 
 Doctor Longley felt the force of the reasoning 
 and consented to go. Accordingly, after breakfast, 
 he returned to Deacon Gray's, and kindly offered 
 
92 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 his services, if there was any assistance he could 
 render in making preparations for the funeral. The 
 deacon felt much obliged to him, but didn't know 
 as there was anything for which they particularly 
 needed his assistance. The doctor then broached 
 the subject of the very sudden and singular death of 
 Polly, and how important it was for the living that 
 the causes of such a sudden death should, if possi- 
 ble, be ascertained, and delicately hinted that the 
 only means of obtaining this information, so desira- 
 ble for the benefit of the science and so valuable for 
 all living, was by opening and examining the body 
 after death. 
 
 At this the deacon looked up at him with such an 
 awful expression of holy horror, that the doctor 
 saw at once it would be altogether useless to pur- 
 sue the subject further. Accordingly, after advis- 
 ing, on account of the warm weather and the pa- 
 tient dying suddenly and in full blood, not to post- 
 pone the funeral later than that afternoon, the doc- 
 tor took his leave. 
 
 " Well, what is the result ?" said Doctor Stubbs, 
 as Doctor Longley entered his dooi'. 
 
 " Oh, as I expected," said Doctor Longley. " The 
 moment I hinted at the subject to the deacon, I saw 
 by his looks, if it were to save his own life and the 
 lives of all his friends, he never would consent to 
 it." 
 
 " Well, 'tis astonishing," said Doctor Stubbs, 
 f that people who have common sense should have 
 so little sense on a subject of this kind. I won't be 
 baffled so. Doctor Longley ; I'll tell you what I'll 
 do. What time is she to be buried ?" 
 
 " This afternoon," said Doctor Longley. 
 
 " In the burying ground by the old meeting-house 
 up the road, I suppose," said Doctor Stubbs. 
 
 " Yes, undoubtedly," replied Dr. Longley. 
 
 " W"'l, I'll have that corpse taken up this night, 
 
JACK downtng's letters. 93 
 
 and you may depend upon it,"' said Doctor Stubbs. 
 '•I'll not only ascertain the cnuse of her death, but 
 I want a subject for dissection, and she having died 
 so suddenly will make an excellent one." 
 
 Doctor Longley shuddered a little at the bold pro- 
 ject of Doctor'Stubbs. " You know, doctor, there 
 is a law against it," said he, " and besides, the bury- 
 ing ground is in such a lonely place and surround- 
 ed by woods, I don't believe you can find anybody 
 with nerve enough to go there and take up a newly 
 buried corpse in the night." 
 
 " Let me alone for that," said Doctor Stubbs. 
 " I know a chap that would do it every night in the 
 week if 1 wanted him to ; a friend of mine down 
 there in the college, in the senior class. He has 
 nerve enough to go anywhere, and is up to a job of 
 this kind at'any time. " The business is all arrang- 
 ed, doctor, and I shall go through with it. Joe 
 Palmer is the man for it, and Rufus Barnes will go 
 with him. I'd go myself, but it would be more pru- 
 dent for me to be at home, for in case of accident, 
 and the thing should be discovered, suspicion would 
 be likely to fall on me, and it would be important 
 for me to be able to prove where I was. Rufus 
 must go to the funeral and. see whereabouts the 
 corpse is buried, so he can find the place in a dark 
 night, and I shall have to go down to the college 
 the first of the evening after Joe myself^ and get 
 him started, and then come right home, and stay at 
 home, so that I can prove an alibi in case of any 
 questions. Don't I understand it. doctor ?" 
 
 " Yes, full well enough," said Doctor Longley, 
 "but I had rather vou would be in the scrape than 
 I should." 
 
 That evening, half an hour after dark, there was 
 a light rap at Joe Palmer's door in the third story 
 of one of the college buildings. The door was 
 partly open, and Joe said " come in." No one en- 
 
94 JACK downing's letters, 
 
 tered, but in a few moments the rap was heard 
 again. " Come in." said Joe. Still no one enter- 
 ed. Presently a figure, concealed under a cloak 
 and with muffled face, appeared partly before the 
 door, and said something in a low voice. Joe look- 
 ed wild and agitated. Some college scrape, he 
 thought, but what was the nature of it he could not 
 divine. The figure looked mysterious. Presently 
 the voice was heard again, and understood to utter 
 the word Palmer. Joe was still more agitated, and 
 looked at his chum most inquiringly. His chum 
 stepped to the door and asked what was wanting. 
 The figure drew back into the darkness of the hall, 
 and answered in a faint voice, that he wanted Pal- 
 mer. At last Palmer screwed his resolution up to 
 the sticking point and ventured as far as the door, 
 while his chum stepped back into the room. The 
 figure again came forward and whispered to Pal- 
 mer to come out, for he wanted to speak with him. 
 
 " But who are you ?" said Palmer. 
 
 The figure partially uncovered his face, and 
 whispered " Doctor Stubbs." 
 
 Palmer at once recognized him, and stepped back 
 as bold as a lion, and took his hat and went out. 
 In a few minutes he returned and told his chum, 
 with rather a mysterious air, that he was going out 
 with a friend to be gone two or three" hours, that 
 he need not feel uneasy about him, and might leave 
 the door unfastened for him till he returned. 
 
 Doctor Stubbs, having given Joe and Rufus full 
 dii'ections how to proceed, telling them^ to get a 
 large wide chaise, so that they could manage to 
 carry the corpse conveniently, and informing them 
 where they could find spades and shovels deposited 
 by the side of the road for the purpose, left them 
 and hastened home. 
 
 "Well now, Rufe," said Joe, " we'll just go over 
 to Jake Rider's and get one of his horses and chaise. 
 
JACK downing's letters. 95 
 
 But we needn't be in a hurry, for we don't want 
 to get there much before midnight ; and we'll go 
 into the store here and get a drink of brandy to be- 
 gin with, for this kind of business needs a little stim- 
 ulus." 
 
 Having braced their nerves with a drink of bran- 
 dy, they proceeded to Jacob Rider's. 
 
 "Jake, give us a horse and chaise to take a ride 
 three or four hours," said Joe. " You needn't mind 
 setting up for us ; we'll put the horse up when we 
 come back, and take good care of him ; we know 
 where to put him. We don't want a nag ; an old 
 steady horse that will give us an easv pleasant 
 ride." 
 
 " Old Tom is jest the horse you want," said Ja- 
 cob, " and there's a good easy going chaise." 
 
 " That chaise isn't wide enough," said Joe ; "give 
 us the widest one you've got." 
 
 " But that's plenty wide enough for two to ride 
 in," said Jacob ; " I don't see what you want a wi- 
 der chaise than that for." 
 
 " Oh, I like to have plenty of elbow room," said 
 Joe. 
 
 " Maybe you are going to have a lady to ride 
 with you," said Jacob. 
 
 Joe laughed, and whispered to Rufus that Jake 
 had hit nearer the mark than he was aware of. 
 
 Jacob selected another chaise. " There is one," 
 said he " wide enough for three to ride in, and even 
 four upon a pinch." 
 
 " That'll do," said Joe ; " now put in old Tom." 
 
 The horse was soon harnessed, and Joe and Ru- 
 fus jumped into the chaise and drove off." 
 
 " Confound these college chaps," said Jacob to 
 himself as they drove out of the yard ; " they are 
 always a sky-larkin' somewhere or other. There's 
 one thing in it though, they pay me well for my 
 horses. But these two fellows wanting such a' 
 
96 JACK DOWNING 'S LETTERS. 
 
 broad chaise ; they are going to have a real frolic 
 somewhere to night. I've a plaguy good min-d to 
 jump on to one of the horses and follow, and see 
 what sort of snuff they are up to. It's so dark I 
 could do it just as well as not, without the least dan- 
 ger of their seeing me." 
 
 No sooner thought than done. Jake at once 
 mounted one of his horses, and followed the chaise. 
 There was no moon, and the night was cloudy and 
 dark ; but a slight rattle in one of the wheels of the 
 chaise, enabled him easily to follow it, though en- 
 tirely out of sight. Having gone about two miles 
 the chaise stopped at the corner, about a hundred 
 rods from the house of Dr. Stubbs. Jake got off 
 and hitched his horse, and crept carefully along by 
 the side of the fence to see what was done there. 
 By stooping down and looking up against a clear 
 patch of sky, he could see one of the two leave the 
 chaise and go to the fence by the side of the road 
 and return again, carrying something in his arms to 
 the chaise. He repeated this operation twice ; but 
 what he carried Jake could not discern. Perhaps 
 it might be some baskets of refreshments. They 
 were going off to some house to have a frolic. The 
 chaise moved on again, and Jake mounted his horse 
 and followed. They went up the road till they 
 came to the old meeting-house ; they passed it a 
 little, and came against the old burying ground. 
 The chaise stopped and Jake stopped. The chaise 
 stood still for the space of about five minutes, and 
 there was not the least sound to be heard in any di- 
 rection. At last, from the little rattle of the chaise 
 wheel, he perceived they were moving at a moder- 
 ate walk. They came to the corner of the bury- 
 ing ground, and turned a little out of the road and 
 sto.pped the chaise under the shadow of a large 
 spreading tree, where it could not be perceived by 
 
JACK downing's letters. 97 
 
 any one passing in the road, even should the clouds 
 brush away and leave it starlight. 
 
 " It is very odd," thought Jake, " that they should 
 stop at such a place as this in a dark night ; the last 
 place in the world I should think of stopping at." 
 
 Jake dismounted and hitched his horse a little 
 distance, and crept carefully up to watch their move- 
 ments. They took something out of. the chaise, 
 passed along by the fence, went through the little 
 gate, and entered the burying ground. Here a new 
 light seemed to flash upon Jake's mind. 
 
 " I hope no murder has been committed," thought 
 he to himself; " but it's pretty clear something is to 
 be buried here to-night that the world must know 
 nothing about." 
 
 Jake was perplexed, and in doubt as to what he 
 should do. He had some conscience, and felt as 
 though he ought to investigate the matter, and put 
 a stop to the business if anything very wicked was 
 going on. But then there were other considera- 
 tions that weighed on the other side. If murder 
 had been committed it was within the range of pos- 
 sibility, and not very unreasonable to suppose, that 
 murder might be committed again to conceal it. 
 There were two of them, and he was alone. It 
 might not be entirely safe for him to interfere. He 
 would hardly care to be thrown into a grave and 
 buried there that night. And then, again, Jake was 
 avaricious, and wouldn't care to break friends with 
 those college fellows, for they paid him a good deal 
 of money. On the whole, he was resolved to keep 
 quiet and see the end of the matter. 
 
 Joe and Rufus walked two-thirds of the way 
 across the burying ground and stopped. Jake fol- 
 lowed at a c-areful distance, and when he found 
 they had stopped, he crept slowly up on the darkest 
 side, so near that, partly by sight and partly by 
 sound, he could discover what took place. There 
 7 
 
98 JACK downing's letteks. 
 
 was not a loud word spoken, though he occasion- 
 ally heard them whisper to each other. Then he 
 heard the sound of shovels and the moving of gravel. 
 
 " It is true," said Jake to himself, " they are dig- 
 ging a grave !" and the cold sweat started on his 
 forehead. Still he resolved to be quiet and see it 
 all through. Once or twice they stopped and seem- 
 ed to be listening, as though they thought they 
 heard some noise. Then he could hear them whis- 
 per to each other, but could not understand what 
 they said. After they had been digging and throw- 
 ing out gravel some time, he heard a sound like the 
 light knock of a shovel upon the lid of a coffin. 
 
 " Take care," said Joe, in a very loud whisper, 
 " it'll never do to make such a noise as that ; it 
 could be heard almost half a mile ; do be more care- 
 ful." 
 
 Again they pursued their work, and occasional- 
 ly a hollow sound like a shovel scraping over a cof- 
 fin was heard. At length their work of throwing 
 out gravel seemed to be completed ; and then there 
 was a pause for some time, interrupted occasional- 
 ly by sounds of screwing, and wedging, and wrench- 
 ing; and at last they seemed to be lifting some 
 heavy substance out of the grave. They carried 
 it toward the gate. Jake was lying almost upon 
 the ground, and as they passed near him, he could 
 perceive they were carrying some white object 
 about the length and size of a corpse. They went 
 out at the gate and round to the chaise ; and pre- 
 sently they returned again, and appeared by their 
 motions and the sound to be filling up the grave. 
 Jake took this opportunity to go and examine the 
 chaise ; and sure enough he found there a full-sized 
 corpse, wrapped in a white sheet, lying in the cen- 
 tre of the chaise, the feet resting on the floor, the 
 body leaning across the s^at, and the head resting 
 against the centre of the back part of the chaise. 
 
JACK DOWNING 'S LETTERS. 99 
 
 " Only some scrape of the Doctor's after all," said 
 Jake to himself, who now began to breathe some- 
 what easier than he had done for some time past. 
 "But it's rather shameful business, though; this 
 must be Deacon Gray's daughter, I'm sure ; and it's 
 a shame to treat the old man in this shabby kind of 
 way. I'll put a stop to this, anyhow. Polly Gray 
 was too good a sort of a gal to be chopped up like 
 a quarter of beef, according to my way of thinking, 
 and it shan't be." 
 
 Jake then lifted the corpse out of tha chaise, car- 
 ried it a few rods farther from the road, laid it down, 
 took off the winding sheet, wrapped it carefully 
 round himself, went back and got into the chaise, 
 and placed himself exactly in the position in which 
 the corpse had been left. He had remained in that 
 situation but a short time before Joe and Rufus, 
 having filled up the grave and made all right there, 
 came and seated themselves in the chaise, one on 
 each side of the corpse, and drove slowly and qui- 
 etly off. 
 
 " I'm glad it's over," said Rufus, fetching^ long 
 breath. " My heart's been in my mouth the whole 
 time. I thought I heard somebody coming half a 
 , dozen times; and then it's such a dismal, gloomy 
 place too. You wouldn't catch me there again, in 
 such a scrape, I can tell you." 
 
 " Well, I was calm as clock-work the whole 
 time," said Joe. " You should have such pluck as 
 I've got, Rufe; nothing ever frightens me." 
 
 At that moment the chaise wheel struck a stone, 
 and caused the corpse to roll suddenly against Joe. 
 He clapped up his hand to push it a little back, and 
 instead of a cold clammy corpse, he felt his hand 
 pressed against a warm face of live flesh. As 
 quick as though he had been struck by lightning, 
 Joe dropped the reins, and with one bound sprang 
 
100 JACK downing's letteks. 
 
 a rod from the chaise and ran for his Hfe. Rufas, 
 without knowing the cause of this strange and sud- 
 den movement, sprang from the other side with al- 
 most equal agility, and followed Joe with his ut- 
 most speed. They scarcely stopped to take breath 
 till they had run two miles and got into Joe's room 
 at the college, and shut the door and locked them- 
 selves in. Here, having sworn Joe's chum to se- 
 crecy, they began to discuss the matter. But con- 
 cerning the very strange warmth of the corpse they 
 could come to no satisfactory conclusion. V/heth- 
 er it could be, that they had not actually takeni up 
 the corpse from the grave, but before they had got 
 down to it some evil spirit had come in the shape 
 of the corpse and deceived them, or whether it was 
 actually the corpse, and it had come to life, or 
 whether it was the ghost of Polly Gray, were ques- 
 tions they could not. decide. They agreed, how- 
 ever, to go the next morning by sunrise on to the 
 ground, and see what discoveries they could make. 
 
 When Jacob Rider found himself alone in the 
 chaisd*, being con\^inced that Joe and Rufus would 
 not come back to trouble him that night, he turned 
 about and drove back to the burying ground. 
 
 " Now," said Jake, " I think the best thing I can 
 do, for all concerned, is to put Polly Gray back 
 where she belongs, and there let her rest." 
 
 Accordingly Jake went to work and opened the 
 grave again, carried the corpse and replaced it as 
 well as he could, and filled up the grave and round- 
 ed it off in good order. He then took his horses and 
 chaise and returned home, well satisfied with his 
 night's work. 
 
 The next morning, some time before sunrise, and 
 before any one were stirring in the neighborhood, 
 Joe and Rufus was at the old burying ground. 
 They went round the inclosure, went to the tree 
 where they had fastened their horse, and looked on 
 
JACK downing's letters. 101 
 
 every side, but discovered nothing. They vrent 
 through the gate, and across to the grave where 
 they had been the night before. The grave look- 
 ed ail right, as though it had not been touched since 
 the funeral. They could see nothing of the horse 
 or chaise, and they concluded if the corpse or evil 
 spirit, or whatever it was in the chaise, had left the 
 horse to himself, he probably found his way direct- 
 ly home. They thought it best therefore immedi- 
 ately to go and see Jake, and make some kind of 
 an explanation. So they went over immediately to 
 Jake's stable, and found the horse safe in his stall. 
 Presently Jake made his appearance. 
 
 " Well, your confounded old horse," said Joe, 
 " wouldn't stay hitched last night. He left us in 
 the lurch, and we had to come home afoot. I see 
 he's come home, though. Chaise all right, I hope." 
 
 " Yes, all right," said Jake. 
 
 " Well, how much for the ride," said Joe, " see- 
 ing we didn't ride but one way ?" 
 
 " Seeing you rode part loay back," said Jake, " I 
 shall charge you fifty dollars." ♦ 
 
 Joe started and looked round, but a knowing leer 
 in Jake's eye convinced him it was no joke. He 
 handed Jake the fifty dollars, at the same tune plac- 
 ing his finger emphatically across his lips ; and Jake 
 took the fifty dollars, whispering in Joe's ear, " dead 
 folks tell no tales." Jake then pat his finger across 
 his lips, and Joe and Rufus bade him good morn- 
 ing. 
 
102 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 CHRISTOPHER CROTCHET! 
 
 THE SINGING-MASTER. 
 
 BY SEBA SMITH. 
 
 Your New England country singing-master is a 
 peculiar character; who shall venture to describe 
 him 1 During his stay in a country village, he is 
 the most important personage in it. The common 
 school-master, to be siire, is a man of dignity and 
 importance. Children never pass him on the road, 
 without turning square round, pulling off their hats, 
 and making one of their best and most profound 
 bows. He is looked up to with universal deference 
 both by young and old, and is often invited out to 
 tea. Or, if he "boards round," great is the parade, 
 and great the preparation, by each family, when 
 their "week for boarding the master" draws near. 
 Then ifbt unfrequently a well fatted porker is killed, 
 and the spare ribs ai'e duly hung round the pantry 
 in readiness for roasting. A half bushel of sausa- 
 ges are made up into " links," and suspended on a 
 pole near the ceiling from one end of the kitchen 
 to the other. And the Saturday beforehand, if the 
 school-master is to come on Monday, the work of 
 preparation reaches its crisis. Then it is, that the 
 old oven, if it be not "beaten seven tiroes hotter 
 than it is wont to be," is at least heated seven times ; 
 and apple-pies, and pumpkin-pies, and mince-pies 
 are turned out by dozens, and packed .away in 
 closet and cellar for the coming week. And the 
 " fore room," which has not had a fire in it for the 
 winter, is now duly washed and scrubbed and put 
 to rights, and wood is heaped on the fire with a 
 
JACK dowking's letters. 103 
 
 liberal hand, till the room itself becomes almost 
 another oven. George is up betimes on Monday 
 morning to go with his hand-sled and bring the 
 master's trunk ; Betsey and Sally are rigged out in 
 the best calico gowns, the little ones have their 
 faces washed and their hair combed with more than 
 ordinary care, and the mother's cap has an extra 
 crimp. And all this stir and preparation for the 
 common school-master. And yet he is but an 
 every-day planet, that moves in a regular orbit, and 
 comes round at least every winter. 
 
 But the singing-master is your true comet. Ap- 
 pearing at no regular intervals, he comes suddenly, 
 and often unexpected. Brilliant, mysterious and 
 erratic, no wonder that he attracts all eyes, and 
 produces a tremendous sensation. Not only the 
 children, but the whole family, flock to the windows 
 when he passes, and a face may be seen at every 
 pane of glass, eagerly peering out to catch a 
 glimpse of the singing-master. Even the very 
 dogs seem to partake of the awe he inspires, and 
 bark with uncommon fierceness whenever they 
 meet him. , 
 
 •' O, father," said little Jimmy Brown, as he came 
 running into the house on a cold December night, 
 with eyes staring wide open, and panting for breath, 
 " O, father, Mr. Christopher Crotchet from Quaver- 
 town, is over to Mr. Gibbs' tavern, come to see 
 about keeping singing- school ; and Mr. Gibbs, and 
 a whole parcel more of 'em, wants you to come 
 right over there, cause they're goin' to have a 
 meeting this evening to see about hiring of him," 
 
 Squire Brown and his family, all except Jimmy, 
 were seated round the supper table when this inter- 
 esting piece of intelligence was announced. Every 
 one save Squire Brown himself, gave a sudden 
 start, and at once suspended operations ; but the 
 Squire, who was a very moderate man, and never 
 
104 JACK downtng's letteks. 
 
 did anything from impulse, ate on without turning 
 his head, or changing his position. After a short 
 pause, however, which was a moment of intense 
 anxiety to some members of the family, he replied 
 to Jimmy as follows: — 
 
 " I shan't do no sich thing ; if they want a sing- 
 ing-school, they may get it themselves. A singing- 
 school wont do us no good, and I've ways enough 
 to spend my money without paying it for singing." 
 Turning his head round and casting a severe look 
 upon Jimmy, he proceeded with increasing energy : 
 
 " Now, Sir, hang your hat up and set down and 
 eat your supper ; I should like to know what sent 
 you off over to the tavern without leave." 
 
 " I wanted to see the singing-master," said Jim- 
 my. "Sam Gibbs said there was a singing-master 
 over to their house, and so I wanted to see him." 
 
 "Well, I'll singing-master you," said the Squire, 
 "if I catch you to go olF so again without leave. 
 Come, don't stand there ; set down and eat your 
 supper, or I'll trounce you in two minutes." 
 
 " There, I declare," said Mrs. Brown, " I do think 
 it too bad. I do wish I could live in peace one 
 moment of my life. The children will be spoilt 
 and ruined. They never can stir a step nor hardly 
 breathe, but what they must be scolded and fretted 
 to death." 
 
 Squire Brown had been accustomed to these 
 sudden squalls about twenty- five years, they having 
 commenced some six months or so after his mar- 
 riage ; and long experience had taught him, that 
 the only way to escape with safety, was' to bear 
 away immediately and scud before the wind. Ac- 
 cordingly he turned again to Jimmy, and with a 
 much softened tone addressed him as follows : — 
 
 " Come, Jimmy, my son, set down and eat your 
 supper, that's a good boy. You shouldn't go away 
 
JACK downixg's letters. 105 
 
 without asking your mother or me ; but you'll try 
 to remember next time, won't you ?" 
 
 Jimmy and his mother were both somewhat 
 soothed by this well-timed suavity, and the boy 
 took his seat at the table. 
 
 "jN'ow, pa." said Miss Jerusha Brown, "you will 
 go over and see about having a singing-school, 
 won't you ? I want to go dreadfully ?" 
 
 " Oh, I can't do anything about that," said the 
 Squire ; " it'll cost a good deal of money, and I 
 can't afford it. And besides, there's no use at all in 
 it. You can sing enough now, any of you ; you 
 are singing half your time." 
 
 " There," said Mrs. Brown, " that's just the way. 
 Our children will never have a chance to be any- 
 thing as long as they live. Other folks' children 
 have a chance to go to singing-schools, and to see 
 young company, and to be something in the world. 
 Here's our Jerusha has got to be in her twenty- 
 fifth year now, and if she's ever going to have 
 young company, and have a chance to be anything, 
 she must have it soon ; for she'll be past the time 
 bime-by for sich things. 'Tisn't as if we was poor 
 and couldn't afford it; for you know, Mr. Brown, 
 you pay the largest tax of anybody in the town, 
 and can afford to give the children a chance to be 
 someiliing in the world, as well as not. And as for 
 living in this kind of way anv longer, I've no notion 
 on't.". 
 
 Mrs. Brown knew how to follow up an advan- 
 tage. She had got her husband upon the retreat 
 in the onset a moment before, in reference to Jim- 
 my's absence, and the closing part of this last 
 speech was uttered with an energy and determina- 
 tion, of which Squire Brown knew too well the 
 import to disregard it. Perceiving that a storm 
 was brewing that would burst upon his head with 
 tremendous power, if he did not take care to avoid 
 
106 JACK DOWXmG-'S LETTERS. 
 
 it, he finished his supper with all convenient des- 
 patch, rose from the table, put on his great-coat 
 and hat, and marched deliberately over to Gibbs' 
 tavern. Mrs. Brown knew at once, that she had 
 won the victory, and that they should have a sing- 
 ing-school. The children also had become so well 
 versed in the science of their mother's tactics, that 
 the}^ understood the same thing, and immediately 
 began to discuss matters preparatory to attending 
 the school. 
 
 Miss Jerusha said she must have her new calico 
 gown made right up, the next day ; and her mother 
 said she should, and David might go right over af- 
 ter Betsey Davis to come to work on it the next 
 morning. 
 
 " How delightful it will be to have a singing- 
 school," said Miss Jerusha : " Jimmy, what sort of 
 a looking mafi is Mr. Crotchet 1" 
 
 " Oh, he is a slick kind of a looking man," said 
 Jimmy. 
 
 " Is he a young man, or a married man ?" inquir- 
 ed Miss Jerusha. 
 
 " Ho ! married ? no ; I guess he isn't," said 
 Jimmy, " I don't believe he's more than twenty 
 years old." 
 
 " Poh ; I don't believe that story," said Jerusha, 
 " a singing-master must be as much as twenL_y-iive 
 years old, I know ! How is he dressed ? Isn't he 
 dressed quite genteel 1" 
 
 " Oh, he's dressed pretty slick," said Jimmy. 
 
 " Well, that's what makes him look so young," 
 said Miss Jerusha ; " I dare say he's as much as 
 twentv-five years old ; don't you think he is, moth- 
 er ?" " 
 
 " Well, I think it's pretty likely he is," said Mrs. 
 Brown ; " singing-masters are generally about that 
 age." 
 
JACK downing's letters, 107 
 
 " How does he look ?" said Miss Jerusha ; " is he 
 handsome ?" 
 
 " He's handsome enough," said Jimmy, " only he's 
 got a red head and freckly face." 
 
 " Now, Jim, I don't believe a word you say. You 
 are saying this, only just to plague me." 
 
 To understand the propriety of this last remark 
 of Miss Jerusha, the reader should be informed, that 
 for the last ten years she had looked upon every 
 young man who came into the place, as her own 
 peculiar property. And in all cases, in order to 
 obtain possession of her aforesaid property, she had 
 adopted prompt measures, and pursued them with 
 a dihgence worthy of all praise. 
 
 "No I ain't neither," said Jimmy, "I say he has 
 got a red head and freckly face." 
 
 " La, well," said Mrs. Brown, " what if he has 1 
 I'm sure a red head don't look bad; and one of 
 the handsomest men that ever I see, had a freckly 
 face." 
 
 " Well, Jimmy, how large is he? Is he a tall 
 man, or a short man ?" said Miss Jerusha. 
 
 " Why, he isn't bigger round than I be," said 
 Jimmy ; " and I guess he isn't quite as tall as a hay- 
 pole : but he's so tall he has to stoop when he goes 
 into the door." 
 
 So I'ar from adding to the shock, which Miss Jeru- 
 sha's nerves had already received from the account 
 of the red head and freckly face, this last piece of 
 intelligence was on the whole rather consolatory ; 
 for she lacked but an inch and a half of six feet in 
 height herself. 
 
 '• Well, Jimmy," said Miss Jerusha, " when he 
 stands up, take him altogether, isn't he a good-look- 
 ing young man?" 
 
 " I don't know anything about that," said Jimmy ; 
 "he looks the most like" the tongs in the riddle, of 
 anything I can think of: 
 
108 JACK downing's lettees. 
 
 ' Long legs and crooked thighs, 
 Little head and no eyes.' " 
 
 " There, Jim, you little plague," said Miss Jeru- 
 sha, " you shall go right off to bed, if you don't 
 leave off your noDsense. I won't hear another word 
 of it." 
 
 " I don't care it you won't," said Jimmy, " it's all 
 true, every word of it." 
 
 "What! then the singing-muster hasn't got no 
 eyes, has he ?" said Miss Jerusha ; " that's a pretty 
 story." 
 
 " I don't mean, he hasn't got no eyes at all," said 
 Jimmy, " only his eyes are dreadful little, and you 
 can't see but one of 'em to time neither, they're 
 twisted round so." 
 
 " A little cross-eyed, I s'pose," said Mrs. Brown, 
 " that's all ; I don't think that hurts the looks of a 
 man a bit ; it only makes him look a little sharp- 
 er." 
 
 While these things were transpiring at Mr. 
 Brown's, matters of weight and importance were 
 being discussed at the tavern. About a dozen of 
 the neighbors had collected there early in the even- 
 ing, and every one, as soon as he found that Mr. 
 Christopher Crotchet from Quavertown was in the 
 village, was for having a singing-school forthwith, 
 cost what it would. They accoi-dingly proceeded 
 at once to ascertain Mr. Crotchet's terms. His 
 proposals were, to keep twenty evenings for twenty 
 dollars and " found," or for thirty and board him- 
 self. The school to be kept three evenings in a 
 week. A subscription-paper was opened, and the 
 sum of fifteen dollars was at last made up. But 
 that was the extent to which they could go ; not 
 another dollar could be raised. Much anxiety was 
 now felt for the arrival of Squire Brown ; for the 
 question of school or no school depended entirely 
 on him. 
 
' . JACK downing's letters. 109 
 
 *• Squire Brown's got money enough," said Mr. 
 Gibbs, '• and if he only has the will, we shall have a 
 school." 
 
 " Not exactly," said Mr. Jones ; ." if Mrs. Brown 
 has the will, we shall have a school, let the Squire's 
 will be what it may." 
 
 Before the laugh occasioned by this last remark 
 had fully subsided, Squire Brown entered, much to 
 the joy of the whole company. 
 
 '' Squire Brown, I'm glad to see you," said Mr. 
 Gibbs ; " shall I introduce you to Mr. Christopher 
 Crotchet, singing-master from Quavertown. 
 
 The Squire was a very short man, somewhat in- 
 clined to corpulence, and Mr. Crotchet, according 
 to Jimmy's account, was not quite as tall as a hay- 
 pole ; so that by dint of the Squire's throwing his 
 head back and looking up, and Mr. Crotchet's cant- 
 ing his head on one side in order to bring one eye 
 to bear on the Squire, the parties were brought 
 within each other's field of vision. The Squire 
 made a bow,. which was done by throwing his head 
 upward, and Mr. Crotchet returned the compliment 
 by extending his arm downward to the Squire and 
 shaking hands. 
 
 When the ceremony of introduction was over, 
 Mr. Gibbs laid the whole matter before Mr. Brown, 
 showed him the subscription-paper, and told him 
 they were all depending upon him to decide wheth- 
 er they should have a singing-school or not. Squire 
 Brown put on his spectacles and read the subscrip- 
 tion-paper over two or three times, till he fully un- 
 derstood the terms, and the deficiency in the amount 
 subscribed. Then without saying a word, he took 
 a pen and deliberately subscribed five dollars. 
 That settled the business i the desired sum was 
 raised, and the school was to go ahead. It was 
 agreed that it should commence on the following 
 evening, and that Mr. Crotchet should board with 
 
110 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 Mr. Gibbs one week, with the Squire the next, and 
 so go round through the neighborhood. 
 
 On the following day there was no small com- 
 motion among the young folks of the village, in 
 making preparation for the evening school. New 
 singing-books were purchased, dresses were pre- 
 pared, curling-tongs and crimping-irons were put 
 in requisition, and early in the evening the long 
 chamber in Gibbs' tavern, which was called by way 
 of eminence " the hall," was well filled by youth of 
 both sexes, the old folks not being allowed to at- 
 tend that evening, lest the " boys and gals " should 
 be diffident about " sounding the notes." A range 
 of long narrow tables was placed round three sides 
 of the hall, with benches behind them, upon which 
 the youth were seated. A singing-book and a can- 
 dle were shared by two, all round the room, till you 
 came to Miss Jerusha Brown, who had taken the 
 uppermost seat, and monopolized a whole book and 
 a whole candle to her own use. Betsey Buck, a 
 lively, reckless sort of a girl of sixteen, who cared 
 for nobody nor nothing in this world, but was full 
 of frolic and fun, had by chance taken a seat next 
 to Miss Jerusha. Miss Betsey had a slight inward 
 turn of orte eye, just enough to give her a roguish 
 look, that comported well with her character. — 
 While they were waiting for the entrance of the 
 master, many a suppressed laugh, and now and then 
 an audible giggle, passed round the room, the mere 
 ebullitions of buoyant spirits and contagious mirth, 
 without aim or object. Miss Jerusha, who was try- 
 ing to behave her prettiest, repeatedly chided their 
 rudeness, and more than once told Miss Betsey 
 Buck, that she ought to be ashamed to be laughing 
 so raUch ; " for what would Mr. Crotchet think, if 
 he should come in and find them all of a giggle ?" 
 
 After a while the door opened, and Mr. Christo- 
 pher Crotchet entered. He bent his body slightly 
 
JACK DOWNINft'S LETTERS. Ill 
 
 as he passed the door, to prevent a concussion of 
 his head against the Hntel, anfl then walked very 
 erect into the middle of thfe floor, and made a short 
 speech to his class. His grotesque appearance 
 caused a slight tittering round the room, and Miss 
 Betsey was even guilty of an incipient audible 
 laugh, which however she had the tact so far to 
 turn into a cough as to save appearances. Still it 
 was observed by Miss Jerusha, who told her again 
 in a low whisper that she ought to be ashamed, and 
 added that "Mr, Crotchet was a most spleiidi-d man ; * 
 a beautiful man." 
 
 After Mr. Crotchet had made his introductory 
 speech, he proceeded to try the voices of his pupils, 
 making each one alone follow him in rising and fall- 
 ing the notes. He passed round without difficulty 
 till he came to Miss Betsey Buck. She rather hes- 
 itated to let her voice be heard alone ; but the mas- 
 ter told her she must sound, and holding his head 
 down so close to hers that they almost met, he com- 
 menced pouring his faw, sole, law, into her ear. 
 Miss Betsey drew back a little, but followed with a 
 low and somewhat tremulous voice, till she had 
 sounded three or four notes, when her risible mus- 
 cles got the mastery, and she burst out in an unre- 
 strained fit of laughter. 
 
 The master looked confused and cross ; and Miss 
 Jerusha even looked crosser than the master. She 
 again reproached Miss Betsey for her rudeness, and 
 told her in an emphatic whisper, which was intend- 
 ed more especially for the master's ear, " that such 
 conduct was shameful, and if she couldn't behave 
 better she ought to stay at home." 
 
 Miss Jerusha's turn to sound came next, and she 
 leaned her head full half way across the table to 
 meet the masters, and sounded the notes clear 
 through, three or four times over, from bottom to 
 top and from top to bottom; and sounded them 
 
112 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 with a loudness and strength fully equal to that of 
 the master. 
 
 When the process of sounding the voices sep- 
 arately had been gone through with, they were 
 called upon to sound together.; and before the close 
 of the evening they were allowed to commence the 
 notes of some easy tunes. It is unnecessary here 
 to give a detailed account of the progress that was 
 made, or to attempt to describe the jargon of strange 
 sounds, with which Gibbs' hall echoed that night. 
 Suffice it to say, that the proficiency of the pupils 
 ' was so great, that on the tenth evening, or when 
 the school was half through, the parents were per- 
 mitted to be present, and were delighted to hear 
 their children sing Old Hundred, Mear, St. Martin, 
 Northfield, and Hallowell, with so much accuracy, 
 that those who knew the tunes, could readily tell, 
 every time, which one was being performed. Mrs. 
 Brown was almost in ecstacies at the performance, 
 and sat the whole evening and looked at Jerusha, 
 who sung with great earnestness and with a voice 
 far above all the rest. Even Squire Brown him- 
 self was so much softened that evening, that his 
 face wore a sort of smile, and he told his wife " he 
 didn't grudge his five dollars, a bit." 
 
 The school went on swimmingly. Mr. Crotchet 
 became the lion of the village ; and Miss Jerusha 
 Brown " thought he improved upon acquaintance 
 astonishingly." Great preparation was made at 
 Squire Brown's for the important week of boarding 
 the singing-master. They outdid all the yillage in 
 the quantity and variety of their eatables, and at 
 every meal Miss Jerusha was particularly assidu- 
 ous in placing all the good things in the neighbor- 
 hood on Mr. Crotchet's plate. In fact, so bountiful- 
 ly and regularly was Mr. Crotchet stufied during 
 the week, that his lank form began to assume a per- 
 ceptible fulness. He evidently seemed very fond 
 
JACK downing's lettees. 113 
 
 of his boarding place, especially at meal time ; and 
 made himself so much at home, that Mrs. Brown 
 and Jerusha were in a state of absolute felicity the 
 whole week. It was true he spent two evenings 
 abroad during the week, and it was reported that 
 one of them was passed at Mr. Buck's. But Miss 
 Jerusha would not believe a word of such a story. 
 She said " there was no young folks at Mr. Buck's 
 except Betsey, and she was sure Mr. Crotchet was 
 a man of more sense than to spend his evenings 
 with such a wild, rude thing as Betsey Buck." 
 Still, however, the report gave her a little uneasi- 
 ness ; and when it was ascertained, that during the 
 week on which Mr. Crotchet boarded at Mr. Buck's 
 he spent every evening at home, except the three 
 devoted to the sincrine-school, Miss Jerusha's un- 
 easiness evidently increased. She resolved to make 
 a desperate effort to counteract these untoward in- 
 fluences, and to teach Miss Betsey Buck not to in- 
 terfere with other folk's concerns. For this pur- 
 pose she naade a grand evening party, and invited 
 all the young folks of the village, except Miss Buck, 
 who was pointedly left out. The treat was elabo- 
 rate for, a country village, and Miss Jerusha was 
 uncommonly assiduous in her attentions to Mr. 
 Crotchet during the evening. But to her inexpres- 
 sible surprise and chagrin, about eight o'clock, Mr. 
 Crotchet put on his hat and great coat and bade the 
 company good night. Mrs. Brown looked very 
 blue, and Miss Jerusha's nerves were in a state of 
 high excitement. What could it mean? She 
 would give anything in the world to know where 
 he had gone. She ran up into the chamber and 
 looked out from the window. The night was ra- 
 ther dark, but she fancied she saw him making his 
 way toward Mr. Buck's. The company for the re- 
 mainder of the evening had rather a dull time ; and 
 Miss Jerusha passed almost a sleepless night. 
 
114 JACK downing's lettees. 
 
 The next evening Miss Jerusha was early at the 
 singing-school. She took her seat with a disconso- 
 late air, opened her singing-book and commenced 
 singing Hallowell in the following words : 
 
 " As on some lonely building's top, 
 
 The sparrow tells her moan, 
 Far from the tents of joy and hope, 
 
 I sit and grieve alone." 
 
 On former occasions, when the scholars were 
 singing before school commenced, the moment the 
 master opened the door they broke off short, even 
 if they were in the midst of a tune. But now, when 
 the master entered. Miss Jerusha kept on singing. 
 She went through the whole tune after Mr. Crotch- 
 et came in, and went back and repeated the latter 
 half of it with a loud and full voice, which caused a 
 laugh among the scholars, and divers streaks of red 
 to pass over the master's face. 
 
 At the close of the evening's exercises Miss Je- 
 rusha hurried on her shawl and bonnet, and watch- 
 ed the movements of the master. She perceived 
 he went out directly after Betsey Buck, and she 
 hastened after them v/ith becoming speed. She 
 contrived to get between Miss Buck and the mas- 
 ter as they walked along the road, and kept Mr. 
 Crotchet in close conversation with her, or rather 
 kept herself in close conversation with Mr. Crotch- 
 et, till they came to the corner that turned down to 
 Mr. Buck's house. Here Mr. Crotchet left her 
 somewhat abruptly, and walked by the side of Miss 
 Betsey toward Mr. Buck's. This was more than 
 Miss Jerusha's nerves could well bear* She was 
 under too much excitement to proceed on her way 
 home. She stopped and gazed after the couple as 
 they receded from her ; and as their forms became 
 indistinct in the darkness of the night, she turned 
 and followed them, just keeping them in view till 
 they reachnd the house. The door opened, and to 
 
JACK downing's letters. 115 
 
 her inexpressible horror, they both went in. It was 
 past ten o'clock, too ! She was greatly puzzled. 
 The affair was entirely inexplicable to her. It could 
 not be, however, that he would stop many minutes, 
 and she waited to see the result. Presently a light 
 appeared in the "fore-room;" and from the mellow- 
 ness of that light a fire Was evidently kindled there. 
 Miss Jcrusha approached the house and reconnoi- 
 tred. She tried to look in at the window, but a 
 thick curtain effectually prevented her from seeing 
 anything within. The curtain did not reach quite 
 to the top of the window, and she thought she saw 
 the shadows of two persons before the fire, thrown 
 against the ceiling. She was determined by some 
 means or other to know the worst of it. She look- 
 ed round the door-yard and found a long piece of 
 board. She thought by placing this against the 
 house by the side of the window, she might be able 
 to climb up and look over the top of the curtain. 
 The board was accordingly raised on one end and 
 placed carefully by the side of the window, and Miss 
 Jerusha eagerly commenced the task of climbing. 
 She had reached the top of the curtain and cast one 
 glance into the room, where, sure enough, she be- 
 held Mr. Crotchet seated close by the side of Miss 
 Betsey. At this interesting moment, from some 
 cause or other, either from her own trembling, for 
 she was exceedingly agitated, or from the board 
 not being properly supported at the bottom, it slip- 
 ped and canted, and in an instant one half of the 
 window was dashed with a tremendous crash into 
 the room. 
 
 Miss Jerusha fell to the ground, but not being 
 much injured by the fall, she sprang to her feet and 
 ran with the fleetness of a wild deer. The door 
 opened, and out came Mr. Crotchet and Mr. Buck, 
 and started in the race. They thought they had a 
 glimpse of some person running up the road when 
 
"^16 JACK downinq's letters. 
 
 they first came out, and Mr. Crotchet's long legs 
 measured off the ground with remarkable velocity. 
 But the fright had added so essentially to Miss Je- 
 rusha's powers of locomotion, that not even Mr. 
 Crotchet could overtake her, and her pursuers soon 
 lost sight of her in the darkness of the night, and 
 gave up the chase and returned home. 
 
 Miss Jerusha was not seen at the singing-school 
 after this, and Mrs. Brown said she stayed at home 
 because she had a cough. Notwithstanding there 
 were many rumors and surmises afloat, and some 
 slanderous insinuations thrown out against Miss Je- 
 rusha Brown, yet it was never ascertained by the 
 neighbors, for a certainty, who it was that demol- 
 ished Mr. Buck's window. 
 
 One item farther remains to be added to this ve- 
 ritable history ; and that is, that in three months 
 from this memorable night. Miss Betsey Buck be- 
 came Mi's. Crotchet of Quavertown. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 BY MAJOR DOWNING. 
 
 When a lady or a politician writes a letter, you may gener- 
 ally expect the most important idea to come into the post- 
 script, jest as the newspaper folks put in a postscript for the 
 latest news, and sometimes " stop the press" to announce it. 
 Whether my postscript here will be the most important thing 
 in the book, is not for me to say ; but it is the latest news, so 
 I've stopt the press to put it in. 
 
 The American Review for June has made an outrageous at- 
 tack upon Daniel Webster, and my literature. It is a whig 
 Review, and therefore thinks Daniel Webster is small potatoes. 
 It is a lif'r'nri/ Review, and therefore thinks my literature is 
 
JACK downing's letters. 117 
 
 worse than nothin. According to my notion, Daniel is able 
 enough to hoe his own potatoes, and therefore I shant answer 
 for him ; but I have a word or two to say for myself. What 
 is one's meat is another's pisen ; and if the American Review 
 don't like my literature, it is because he doesn't know what is 
 good, for every body else eats it and likes it. But let us see 
 what the Review has to say about me. 
 
 [From the. American Review for June, 1845.] 
 
 " American Letters. — Is there an American school of 
 writers ? None, certainly, unless they who degrade and vul- 
 garise the tongueymd the taste of the country by performances, 
 the whole merit of which consists in their adoption of particu- 
 lar local slang (such as was employed in Major Downing's 
 Letters, or in the lucubrations of Sam Slick) are the models 
 of a new and noble literature that is to be for us. When these 
 things shall found for us a learning, the Ethiopian Minstrels 
 will create for us a Music, and the disciples of Jim Crow a 
 Theatre of our own.'* 
 
 I am willing to believe, after reading the Publisher's Pre- 
 face to tl>is little book, that there is a Downing school of lite- 
 rature in the country, and that I had something to do with it. 
 But I did not know, before the American Review said so, that 
 mine was the only " Amei'ican school of writers." The New- 
 York Evening Gazette copies the paragraph from the Review, 
 and makes the following remarks about it, which I think prove 
 that the Gazette can tell a hawk from a handsaw if the Re- 
 view cant. 
 
 [From the Evening Gazette.] 
 
 " The writer of the above amusingly confounds ' learning' 
 with genius in the quoted sentence ; just as he elsewhere in 
 the same article confounds the honor which the production of 
 some great poem may confer upon the land which produced it, 
 with the poetic associations wherewith a song-writer like 
 Burns may clothe that land. We may never, in this country, 
 produce an Epic that will live ; we may never, in these United 
 States, give birth to a Homer, a Milton, or Tasso, whose 
 world-isenown may proudly reflect upon ourselves. But, a 
 hundred songs, from anonymous pens if you choose, having 
 half the merit of those which have given a mystic charm to 
 the braes and brooksides of the land of Burns, would still as- 
 sociate a poelic feeling with the soil, that might be worth all 
 the glory of an Epic. 
 
118 JACK downing's letteks. 
 
 "In a word,. we maybe natio?iaIized in \itevaut\ire as well 
 through our affections as through our intellect ; just as we 
 may be more bound together by the characteristic strains of 
 a few national airs than by the production of an opera ; — 
 while the organ of those airs, if they come from among the 
 many, will speak more for the general musical feeling of the 
 people than the composition of the grandest overture from the 
 hand of a Master. 
 
 " The learned Dr. Julius, who was sent here by the King of 
 Prussia, to make notes upon certain institutions of our country, 
 carried home with him a scroll of these very ' Ethiopian 
 songs,' at which this Reviewer sneers, as affording proof as 
 striking as it was interesting, that we had the germs of a na- 
 tional music among us ; and when his large collection of min- 
 erals, pamphlets, &c., &c., was destroyed in the great fire of 
 New- York, as he was on the eve of sailing for Europe — the 
 worthy Doctor, in trying to replace what he could, was partic- 
 ularly careful to supply the place of those humble ditties 
 which had shared the fate of the vast mass of interesting ma- 
 terials which he had been so indefatigable in bringing together 
 for his royal master. 
 
 "And now, as to the ' Jack Downing and Sam Slick litera- 
 ture,' which this sage Reviewer thinks has the one sole mis- 
 sion of vulgarizing the tongue and the taste of the country. We 
 are not unwillmg to admit that it may have, in some degree, 
 produced this effect ; but we care not for a small evil if it be 
 inseparable from a great good. And this ' literature' has 
 done good ; for if not the first sign of our intellectual inde- 
 pendence, it certainly has aided vastly in breaking the servile 
 chain of provilfbial imitation. It established the independent 
 Republic of American jokedomupoa the ruins of transplanted 
 cockneyism." 
 
 Now, as for this ere difficulty between me and the editor of 
 the American Review, I shant stop to have any very long 
 yarn about it. If I was a great writer, as he is, I'd go at 
 him pell-mell and raise such a dust about his head that he 
 couldn't be seen again this six months. But I'm only a plain, 
 blunt man, that speaks right on, and tells folks what they al- 
 ready know. I'm something like that old Roman that Mr. 
 Shakspeare tells about — for I do re id Shakspeare sometimes 
 in winter evenings, and like it, it's full of meat as an oyster — 
 so I say I'm something like that old Roman, " for I have 
 neither wit, nor worth, nor words, action, nor utterance,''nor 
 
JACK downing's letters. 119 
 
 power of speech to stir men's blood ;" and all I can do is to 
 point my adversary to the pens of his editorial brethren, 
 " poor, poor, dumb mouths, and bid them speak for me." 
 
 The New- York Mirror, — I mean the old Mirror — five or six 
 years ago, speaking of some of my writings published at that 
 time, says : 
 
 " These are the most graphic and really the best Yankee 
 papers we have overseen, or expect to see, let who will write 
 them. Their author has struck at a new line in literature, 
 more piquant, racy, and original, than that adopted by ' Boz.' 
 \\ e like him none the less for being ' native here, and to the 
 manor born ;' for we are among those who can appreciate 
 a good production, even before it has received the commen- 
 dation of foreign critics." 
 
 The New- York Morning Despatch, April 22, 1839, speaking 
 of the same writings, says : 
 
 " The author has the richest and most natural Yankee dia- 
 lect of any writer who has attempted to give the peculiarities 
 of Jonathan. The wit is real, attic, and something more than 
 poor orthography." 
 
 The New-Yorker, May 25th, 1839, speaking of the same 
 writings, says : 
 
 " It is enough to observe thit they emanate from the pen of 
 the original author of the Jack Downing Letters. His Yan- 
 kee stories and style are very diverting, and possess an origi- 
 nality and fidelity, which are not discernable in the writings 
 of a numerous horde of imitators." 
 
 The New- York Courier and Enquirer, July 3, 1839, speaks 
 of the same writings as follows : 
 
 " There is no doubt that the author of this little volume is 
 the best painter of Yankee peculiarities that ever wrote. He 
 is true to nature and never caricatures, but without caricatur- 
 ing, is most amusing." 
 
 There, I might go on in this way and fill up another book. 
 But I shan't do it ; for if the American Reviewer won't be- 
 lieve the witnesses I've already brought up, I don't spose he 
 would believe it if my dear old friend the Gineral should come 
 back and tell him he was a goose. 
 
 So I shall here bid my readers good-by till next time. 
 
 THE END. 
 
JACK downing's letters. 113 
 
 of his boarding place, especially at meal time ; and 
 made himself so much at home, that Mrs. Brown 
 and Jerusha were in a state of absolute felicity the 
 whole week. It was true he spent two evenings 
 abroad during the week, and it was reported that 
 one of them was passed at Mr. Buck's. But Miss 
 Jerusha would not believe a word of such a story. 
 She said " there was no young folks at Mr. Buck's 
 except Betsey, and she was sure Mr. Crotchet was 
 a man of more sense than to spend his evenings 
 with such a wild, rude thing as Betsey Buck." 
 Still, however, the report gave her a little uneasi- 
 ness ; and when it was ascertained, that during the 
 week on which Mi\ Crotchet boarded at Mr. Buck's 
 he spent every evening at home, except the three 
 devoted to the singing-school. Miss Jerusha's un- 
 easiness evidently increased. She resolved to make 
 a desperate effort to counteract these untoward in- 
 fluences, and to teach Miss Betsey Buck not to in- 
 terfere with other folk's concerns. For this pur- 
 pose she made a grand evening party, and invited 
 all the young folks of the village, except Miss Buck, 
 who was pointedly left out. The treat was elabo- 
 rate for a country village, and Miss Jerusha was 
 uncommonly assiduous in her attentions to Mr. 
 Crotchet during the evening. But to her inexpres- 
 sible surprise and chagrin, about eight o'clock, Mr. 
 Crotchet put on his hat and great coat and bade the 
 company good night. Mrs. Brown looked very 
 blue, and Miss Jerusha's nerves were in a state of 
 high excitement. What could it mean 1 She 
 would give anything in the world to know where 
 he had gone. She ran up into the chamber and 
 looked out from the window. The night was ra- 
 ther dark, but she fancied she saw him making his 
 way toward Mr. Buck's. The company for the re- 
 mainder of the evening had rather a dull time ; and 
 Miss Jerusha passed almost a sleepless night. 
 
114 JACK downing' S LETTEES. 
 
 The next evening Miss Jerusha was early at the 
 singing-school. She took her seat with a disconso- 
 late air, opened her singing-book and commenced 
 singing Hallowell in the following Vv^ords: 
 
 " As on some lonely building's top, 
 
 The sparrow tells her moan, 
 Far from the tents of joy and hope, 
 
 I sit and grieve alone." 
 
 On former occasions, when the scholars were 
 singing before school commenced, the moment the 
 master opened the door they broke off short, even 
 if they were in the midst of a tune. But now, when 
 the master entered, Miss Jerusha kept on singing. 
 She went through the whole tune after Mr. Crotch- 
 et came in, and went back and repeated the latter 
 half of it with a loud and full voice, which caused a 
 laugh among the scholars, and divers streaks of red 
 to pass over the master's face. 
 
 At the close of the evening's exercises Miss Je- 
 rusha hurried on her shawl and bonnet, and watch- 
 ed the movements of the master. She perceived 
 he went out directly after Betsey Buck, and she 
 hastened after them with becoming speed. She 
 contrived to get between Miss Buck and the mas- 
 ter as they walked along the road, and kept Mr. 
 Crotchet in close conversation with her, or rather 
 kept herself in close conversation with Mr. Crotch- 
 et, till they came to the corner that turned down to 
 Mr. Buck's house. Here Mr. Crotchet left her 
 somewhat abruptly, and walked by the side of Miss 
 Betsey toward Mr. Buck's. This was more than- 
 Miss Jerusha's nerves could well bear. She was 
 under too much excitement to proceed on her way 
 home. She stopped and gazed after the couple as 
 they receded from her ; and as their forms became 
 indistinct in the darkness of the night, she turned 
 and followed them, just keeping them in view till 
 they I'eachnd the house. The door opened, and to 
 
JACK downing's letters. 115 
 
 her inexpressible horror, they both went in. It was 
 past ten o'clock, too ! She was greatly puzzled. 
 The affair was entirely inexplicable to her. ^ It could 
 not be, however, that he would stop many minutes, 
 and she waited to see the result. Presently a light 
 appeared in the "fore-room ;" and from the mellow- 
 ness of that light a fire was evidently kindled there. 
 Miss Jerusha approached the house and I'econnoi- 
 tred. She tried to look in at the window, but a 
 thick curtain effectually prevented her from seeing 
 anything within. The curtain did not reach quite 
 to the top of the window, and she thought she saw 
 the shadows of two persons before the -lire, thrown 
 against the ceiling. She was determined by some 
 means or other to know the worst of it. She look- 
 ed round the door-yard and found a long piece of 
 board. She thought by placing this against the 
 house by the side of the window, she might be able 
 to climb up and look over the top of the curtain. 
 The board was accordingly raised on one end and 
 placed carefully by the side of the window, and Miss 
 Jerusha eagerly commenced the task of climbing. 
 She had reached the top of the curtain and cast one 
 glance into the room, where, sure enough, she be- 
 held Mr. Crotchet seated close by the side of Miss 
 Betsey. At this interesting moment, from some 
 cause or other, either from her own trembling, for 
 she was exceedingly agitated, or from the board 
 not being properly supported at the bottom, it slip- 
 ped and canted, and in an instant one half of the 
 window was dashed with a tremendous crash into 
 the room. 
 
 Miss Jerusha fell to the ground, but not being 
 much injured by the fall, she sprang to her feet and 
 ran with the fleetness of a wild deer. The door 
 opened, and out came Mr. Crotchet and Mr. Buck, 
 and started in the race. They thought they had a 
 glimpse of some person running up the road when 
 
''16 V JACK downing's letters. 
 
 they first came out, and Mr. Crotchet's long legs 
 measured off the ground with remarkable velocity. 
 Bat the fright had added so essentially to Miss Je- 
 rusha's powers of locomotion, that not even Mr. 
 Crotchet could overtake her, and her pursuers soon 
 lost sight of her in the darkness of the night, and 
 gave up the chase and returned home. 
 
 Miss Jerasha was not seen at the singing-school 
 after this, and Mrs. Brown said she stayed at home 
 because she had a cough. Notwithstanding there 
 were many rumors and surmises afloat, and some 
 slanderous insinuations thrown out against Miss Je- 
 rusha Brown, yet it was never ascertained by the 
 neighbors, for a certainty, who it was that demol- 
 ished Mr. Buck's window. 
 
 One item farther remains to be added to this ve- 
 ritable history ; and that is, that in three months 
 from this memorable night. Miss Betsey Buck be- 
 came Mrs. Crotchet of Quavertown. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 BT MAJOR DOWNING. 
 
 When a lady or a politician writes a letter, you may gener- 
 ally expect the most important idea to come into the post- 
 script, jest as the newspaper folks put in a postscript for the 
 latest news, and sometimes " stop the press" to announce it. 
 Whether my postscript here will be the most important thing 
 in the book, is not for me to say ; but it is the latest news, so 
 I've stopt the press to put it in. 
 
 The American Review for June has made an outrageous at- 
 tack upon Daniel Webster, and my literature. It is a whig 
 Review, and therefore thinks Daniel Webster is small potatoes. 
 It is a lit^'r'vry Review, and therefore thinks my literature is 
 
JACK downing's letters. 117 
 
 worse than nothin. According to my notion, Daniel is able 
 enough to hoe his own potatoes, and therefore I shant answer 
 for him ; but I have a word or two to say for myself. What 
 is one's meat is another's pisen ; and if the American Review 
 don't like my literature, it is because he doesn't know what is 
 good, for every body else eats it and likes it. But let us see 
 what the Review has to say about me. 
 
 [From the American Review for June, 1845.] 
 
 " American Letters. — Is there an American school of 
 writers 1 None, certainly, unless they who degrade and vul- 
 garise the tongutyand the taste of the country by performances, 
 the whole merit of which consists in their adoption of particu- 
 lar local slang (such as was employed in Major Downing's 
 Letters, or in the lucubrations of Sam Slick) are the models 
 df a new and noble literature that is to be for us. When these 
 things shall found for us a learning, the Ethiopian Minstrels 
 will create for us a Music, and the disciples of Jim Crow a 
 Theatre of our own." 
 
 I am willing to believe, after reading the Publisher's Pre- 
 face to this little book, that there is a Downing school of lite- 
 rature in the country, and that I had something to do with it. 
 But I did not know, before the American Review said so, that 
 mine was the only " American school of writers." The New- 
 York Evening Gazette copies the paragraph from the Review, 
 and makes the following remarks about it, which I think prove 
 that the Gazette can tell a hawk from a handsaw if the Re- 
 view cant. 
 
 [From the Evening Gazette.] 
 
 " The writer of the above amusingly confounds ' learning' 
 with genius in the quoted sentence ; just as he elsewhere in 
 the same article confounds the honor which the production of 
 some great poem may confer upon the land which produced it, 
 with the poetic associations wherewith a song-writer like 
 Burns may clothe that land. We may never, in this country, 
 produce an Epic that will live ; we may never, in these United 
 States, give birth to a Homer, a Milton, or Tasso, whose 
 world-senown may proudly reflect upon ourselves. But, a 
 hundred songs, from anonymous pens if you choose, having 
 half" the merit of those which have given a mystic charm to 
 the b7'aes and brooksides of the land of Burns, would still as- 
 sociate a jwelic feeling with the soil, that might be worth all 
 the glory of an Epic. 
 
118 JACK downing's letters. 
 
 " In a word, we may be nationalized in literature as well 
 through our affections as through our intellect ; just as we 
 may be more bound together by the characteristic strains of 
 a few national airs than by the production of an opera ; — 
 while the organ of those airs, if they come from among the 
 many, will speak more for the general musical feeling of the 
 people tlian the composition of the grandest overture from the 
 hand of a Master. 
 
 " The learned Dr. Julius, who was sent here by the Iling of 
 Prussia, to make notes upon certain institutions of our country, 
 carried home' with him a scroll of these very ' Ethiopian 
 songs,' at which this Reviewer sneers, as affording proof as 
 striking as it was interesting, that we had the germs of a na- 
 tional music among us ; and when his large collection of min- 
 erals, pamphlets, &c., &c., was destroyed in the great fire of 
 New- York, as he was on the eve of sailing for Europe— ((he 
 worthy Doctor, in trying to replace what lie could, was partic- 
 ularly careful to supply the place of those humble ditties 
 which had shared the fate of the vast mass of interesting ma- 
 terials which he had been so indefatigable in bringing together 
 for his royal master. 
 
 " And now, as to the ' Jack Downing and Sam Slick litera- 
 ture,' which this sage Reviewer thinks has the one sole mis- 
 sion of vulgarizing the tongue and the taste of the country. We 
 are not unwillmg to admit that it may have, in some degree, 
 produced this effect ; but we care not for a small evil if it be 
 inseparable from a great good. And this ' literature' has 
 done good ; for if not the first sign of our intellectual inde- 
 pendence, it certainly has aided vastly in breaking the servile 
 chain of provincial imitation. It established the independent 
 Republic of American jokedom upon the ruins of transplanted 
 cockneyism." 
 
 Now, as for this ere difficulty between me and the editor of 
 the American Revievir, I shant stop to have any very long 
 yarn about it. If I was a great writer, as he is, I'd go at 
 him pell-mell and raise such a dust about his head that he 
 couldn't be seen again this six months. But I'm only a plain, 
 blunt man, that speaks right on, and tells folks what they al- 
 ready know. I'm something like that old Roman that Mr. 
 Shakspeare tells about — for I do rejd Shakspeare sometimes 
 in winter evenings, and like it, it's full of meat as an oyster — 
 so I say I'm something like that old Roman, " for I have 
 neither wit, nor worth, nor words, action, nor utterance, nor 
 
JACK DOWNING 'S LETTERS. 119 
 
 power of speech to stir men's blood ;" and all I can do is to 
 point my adversary to the pens of his editorial brethren, 
 " poor, poor, dumb mouths, and bid them speak for me." 
 
 The New-York Mirror, — I mean the old Mirror — five or six 
 years ago, speaking of some of my writings published at that 
 time, says : 
 
 " These are the most graphic and really the best Yankee 
 papers we have ever seen, or expect to see, let who will write 
 theiai. Their author has struck at a new line in literature, 
 more piquant, racy, and original, than tliat adopted by ' Boz.' 
 We like him none the less for being ' native here, and to the 
 manor born ;' for we are among those who can appreciate 
 a good production, even before it has received the commen- 
 dation of foreign critics." 
 
 The New- York Morning Despatch, April 22, 1839, speaking 
 of the same writings, says : 
 
 " The author has the richest and most natural Yankee dia- 
 lect of any writer who has attempted to give the peculiarities 
 of Jonathan. The wit is real, attic, and something more than 
 poor orthography." 
 
 The New-Yorker, May 25th, 1839, speaking of the same 
 writings, says : 
 
 " It is enough to observe that they emanate from the pen of 
 the original author of the Jack Downing Letters. His Yan- 
 kee stories and style are very diverting, and possess an origi- 
 nality and fidelit)', which are not discernable in the writings 
 of a numerous horde of imitators." 
 
 The New- York Courier and Enquirer, July 3, 1839, speaks 
 of the same writings as follows : 
 
 " There is no doubt that the author of this little volume is 
 the best painter of Yankee peculiarities that ever wrote. He 
 is true to nature and never caricatures, but without caricatur- 
 ing, is most amusing." 
 
 There, I might go on in this way and fill up another book. 
 But I shan't do it ; for if the American Reviewer won't be- 
 lieve the witnesses I've already brought up, I don't spose he 
 would believe it if my dear old friend the Gineral should come 
 back and tell him he was a goose. 
 
 So I shall here bid my readers good-by till next time. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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