but ef the Dimmocrats will only be honest and plucky, they can do it. I want to live long enuff to vote the Dimmocratic ticket this fall, and help do it.

Yours till deth,

Majer Jack Downing

LETTERS OF MAJOR JACK DOWNING.

LETTER I.

The Major Announces that he "Still Lives"‌—‌The Reason why he has not Spoken before‌—‌Writes to "President Linkin," who at once Sends for him‌—‌How Lincoln Shakes Hands‌—‌His Troubles‌—‌The Major's Advice ‌—‌Lincoln to get an "Appintment on Gineral McClellan's Staff"‌—‌A Story About Old Rye, from Mr. Lincoln.

Washington, Feb. 4th, 1862.

To the Editers of The Cawcashin, New York:

Surs: I 'spose eenamost everybody believed I wus ded, 'cause they 'aint seen any letters of mine in the papers for a good while. But it taint so. I'me alive, and though I can't kick quite as spry as I used to, yet I kin ride a hossback about as good as I could twenty year ago. I am now nigh on eighty years old, and yet, except getting tuckered out easier than I used to, I believe I feel jest about as smart as I did when I was a boy. The last letters I writ fer the papers was about ten years ago, when I went all around the country with Kossoot, and showed him the sights. Sence then I've been livin' in Downingville, county of Penobscot, State of Maine, and enjoyin' in gineral a good state of helth. But if the public haint heard from me it taint because I wasn't keepin' a close eye on matters and things. But the sartin truth is jest here: I seen, a good while ago, how things was shapin'. I told Kossoot that the pesky Abolishunests would ruin him, and thay did, and I've knowed for a long time that thay would run this country off the Dimokratic track and smash it all to flinders. Wall, they've done it. You may wunder why I haint spoke and told the country all this before. Wall, the reason is jest here: I saw that the breechin' was broke some years ago, and there is no use of talkin or hollerin "whoa!" "whoa!" after that. I've seen the laziest old hoss that ever lived kick and run like all possessed as soon as the shafts tetched his heels, and that's jest the condishun we've been in in this country for some time. We've been kickin' and runnin' and raisin' the old scratch ginerally for ten years, all about these darned kinky-heded niggers. As there is no use of tryin' to stop a runaway hoss after the breechin' brakes until he gets to the bottom of the hill, so there is no use of talkin' to a country while it is goin' in the same direcshun. Didn't Noah preech to a hull generashun of aunty-Deluvens, and it warn't any use. They lafed him rite in the face; and cum round him and axed what he intended to do with a boat full of chicken coops, hoss stables, and so on. And at last, when the rain begun to cum down like all possessed, they swore it "warn't much of a freshet arter all." Wall, jest so it is with this generashun. I spect the aunty-slaveryites are sum relashun to the aunty-Deluvens, and that accounts for their simelur behaveyur.

But I think that we've got most to the bottom of the hill now, and it is about time to get things rited up in some sort of shape. Havin come to this conclushin, about ten days ago I wrote a letter to President Linkin, tellin him how that Gineral Jackson's old friend was yet alive, and that if he wanted my sarvices or advice I would come on to Washington and help him thro'. Wall, I got a letter rite back, in which Linkin said he "was tickled all into a heap to hear that Gineral Jackson's old friend, Major Jack Downing, was still alive, and that he wanted me to cum on to Washington rite off." So I put off, like shot off a shovel, and dident even stop in York a day, or I should have called to see you. The truth is, I'me darned glad I cum. I went rite up to the White House, which looks as nateral as when Gineral Jackson and I lived there, and sent in my keerd. In a minnit the sarvent cum back, and ses he, "walk up." I went up-stairs, and then into Linkin's room, and you never seed a feller gladder to see a man than he was to see me. He got hold of my hand, and ses he, "Major, you are a brick. I've thought a thousand times that if I only had such a friend as Gineral Jackson had in you, that I could git along as easy as snuff. But ye see, Major, all these pollyticens are a set of tarnel hyppercrits, and I hate 'em." And he kept talkin and shakin my hand until I thot hed sprain my rist. So I ses, "Mr. Linkin, I can't stand hard squeezin as well as I used to, so don't hold on quite so hard." Then he apologized, and said "how he was so anxus to see me that he was almost crazy." I told him that "I hed cum to see him through, jist as I did Gineral Jackson, and that I would stick by him as long as their was a shirt to his back, if he would only do rite."

"Wall," ses he, "Major, that is jist what I want to do. But its awful hard work to tell what is rite. Here I am pulled first one way and then tother."

Now, ses I, "Linkin, I'me goin to talk rite out to you. The fact is, there never was a President that had such a party at his back as you've got. You see its made up of old Whigs, Abolitionists and free sile Dimmycrats. Now, there ain't any more rale mixture to this conglommyrate than there is to ile and water. The truth is, I'd as soon take Illinoy muck, and Jersey mud, and Massachusetts cobble stuns to make a fine coat mortar of, as I would to get such materials to put into a pollytical party. You