LETTER XXXVIII.

In which Captain Downing describes his return to Downingville, after an absence of two years.

Downingville, Nov. 8, 1831.

To the Editor of the Portland Courier.

I

MY DEAR OLD FRIEND, YOU. - I got home to Downingville last night after an absence of nearly two years. meant to stop at Portland as I come on from Washington, but some how or other, I got into the wrong stage somewhere in New Hampshire, and come the upper road before I knew it. So the first thing I knew, when I thought I had got almost to Portland, I found myself plump in Downingville. But the dear folks were all so glad to see me, I didn't feel much sorry. Cousin Nabby hopped right up and down, like a mouse treed in a flour barrel; and Ephraim snapped his thumb and finger, and spit on his hands as though he had a cord of wood to chop; and poor ant Keziah set down and cried as much as two hours steady. Uncle Joshua catched down his pipe, and made the smoke roll out well; I never saw him smoke so fast before in my life; he finished two pipes full of tobacco in less than five minutes. I felt almost like a fool myself, and had to keep winking and swallowing, or I should have cried as hard as any of 'em. But you know it wouldn't do for a captain to cry, especially when he was going to enlisting soldiers.

Well, I must hurry along with my letter, for I haven't got much time to write to-day. I have been round among the folks in Downingville this forenoon to see how they felt about the Madawaska business, and whether any of 'em would go a sogering down there with me. I find some of 'em are right up about it, and ready

to shoulder their guns and march to-morrow if I say the word, and others are a little offish.

I guess I shall get about half enough for a company here pretty easy, and if I find it hard dragging to pick up the rest, I shall come right down to Portland to fill up my company there. For uncle Joshua tells me he has had some letters from Portland within a few days, and he says there are a number of chaps down there as warm as mustard about going to war down to Madawaska, and are only waiting for a good chance to list, and some of 'em he thinks will make capital sargents and corporals. I should be glad if you would send me word whether you think I could pick up some good lusty fellows there in case I should want 'em. I pay a month's wages cash down. But there is one subject that I feel rather uneasy about, and that is the greatest reason of my writing you to-day, to see if you can tell me any thing about it. Last night uncle Joshua and I sot up talking politicks pretty late, after all the rest of the folks had gone to bed. I told him all about one thing another at Washington, and then we talked about the affairs of this State.

I found uncle Joshua did't stand jest where he used to. You know once he was a little might in favor of Mr Huntoon; and then, when I was up for Governor, he was altogether in favor of me; and then he was pretty near equally balanced between Mr Smith and Mr Goodenow; but now, when I come to talk with him, I found he was all plump over on the democratic republican side. You know I've been leaning that way tu, ever since I got in to be good friends long with President Jackson. So says I, Well, uncle, our party is strong enough now to carry all afore 'em in this State. I guess governor Smith will have more than three quarters of the votes next time. At which uncle turned round towards me, and rolled up his great eyes over his spectacles, and took his pipe out of his mouth and put on a

mighty knowing look, and says he, Jack, jest between you and me, a much better man and a much greater republican than Gov. Smith, will be Governor of the State of Maine after another election.

I was kind of struck with a dunderment. I sot and looked at him as much as two minutes, and he all the time looked as knowing as a fox. At last, says I, Uncle, what do you mean? Did n't all the democratic republican papers in the State, when Gov. Smith was elected, say he was the very best republican there was in the - State for Governor. Well, well, Jack, said he, mark my words, that's all. But, said I, uncle, what makes you think so? O, said he, I have read the Argus and the Bangor Republican, and I have had a letter from a man that knows all about it, and when the time comes you 'll see. And that was all I could get out of him. Now I wish you would let me know what this mystery And I remain your old friend,

means.

CAPT. JACK DOWNING.

LETTER XXXIX.

Captain Downing's first Military Report to the President.

Madawaska, Nov. 15. 1831. To his Excellency, Gineral Jackson, President of the United

States, &c.

MY GOOD OLD SIR. - The prisoners are out and no blood spilt yet. I had prepared to give the British a most terrible battle, if they had n't let 'em out. I guess I should made 'em think old Bonapart had got back among 'em again, for a keener set of fellows than my musket or company is made up of never shouldered a trod shoe-leather. I was pesky sorry they let 'em out quite so soon, for I really longed to have a brush with

'em; and how they come to let 'em go I dont know, unless it was because they heard I was coming. And I expect that was the case, for the prisoners told me the British Minister at Washington, sent on some kind of word to Governor Campbell, and I suppose he told him how I had got a commission, and was coming down upon New Brunswick like a harrycane.

If I could only got down there a little sooner and fit sich a great battle as you did at New Orleans, my fortune would have been made for this world. I should have stood a good chance then to be President of the United States, one of these days. And that's as high as ever I should want to get. I got home to Downingville in little more than a week after I left you at Washington, for having a pretty good pocket full of money, and knowing that my business was very important, I rid in the stage most all the way. I spose I need n't stop to tell you how tickled all my folks were to see me. I did n't know for awhile but they'd eat me up. But I spose that's neither here nor there in making military reports, so I'll go on. I found no difficulty in getting volunteers. I believe I could have got nearly half the State of Maine to march if I had wanted 'em. But as I only had orders to list one good stout company, I took 'em all in Downingville, for I rather trust myself with one hundred genuine Downingville boys, than five hundred of your common run. I took one supernumerary however, when I got to Bangor. The editor of the Bangor Republican was so zealous to go, and said he 'd fight so to the last drop of his blood, that I could n't help taking him, so I appointed him supernumerary corporal. Poor fellow, he was so disappointed when he found the prisoners were out that he fairly cried for vexation. He's for having me go right on now and give all New Brunswick a real thrashing.

But I know what belongs to gineralship better than that; I have n't had my orders yet. Well, after we

out.

left Bangor we had a dreadful rough and tumble sort of a journey, over rocks and mountains and rivers and swamps and bogs and meadows, and through long pieces of woods that I didn't know as we should find the way But we got through at last, and arrived here at Madawaska day before yesterday. I thought I better come this way and make a little stop at Madawaska to see if the prisoners' wives and little ones were in want of any thing and then go down to Fredericton and blow the British ski high.

When our company first came out in sight in Madawaska, they thought it was the British coming to catch some more of 'em; and such a scattering and scampering I guess you never see. The men flew into the woods like a flock of sheep with forty dogs after 'em, and the women catched their babies up in their arms and run from one house to another screeching and screaming enough to make the woods ring again. But when they found out we were United States troops come to help 'em, you never see any body so glad. They all cried for joy then. The women run into the woods and called for their husbands to come back again, for there was nobody there that would hurt them, and back they came and treated us with the best they had in their houses. And while we sot chatting, before the women bardly got their tears wiped up, one of 'em looked up towards the woods and screamed out there comes the prisoners. Some turned pale a little, thinking it might be their ghosts, but in a minute in they come, as good flesh and blood as any of us, and then the women had another good crying spell.

I asked one of the prisoners how they got away, for I thought you would want to know all about it; and says he we come away on our legs. Did you break out of jail, said I? I guess there was no need of that, said he, for we want locked in half the time. Did you knock down the guard, said I, and fight your way out?