November 8, 1862, page 715 (3-4)
To the Edditer of Harpers Weekly:
Dear Mr. EdditerSarah Blue is a woman, and I
bein a person ov the sam secks, yu see its nateral we shouldnt allways
I call myself a thorrough administratixI go fur the
administrashun, thet is, fur the present one. None ov yure sham demockracys fur me!
Sarah says the same; but, between yu and me it aint
true. Sarah is a good administratrix jest as long as affares go on tu suit her, but jest
the eyedentical minit things go against the grain, shes off on the other side
like a roket.
But I dont wunder at her idees bein sumwhat
fuddled on pollytics, for her father was the gratest turn-coat yu ever did see. He was
brot up a methodistthen turned dimmycrat, and was made hog-reeve the same yeer, and
evry one said that he intered inter pollytical life for the sake ov gittin that
office. Bimeby he hined the odd fellus (he was odd enuff the, in all konshunce!), and
putty soon arter that he gut married and dyed his whiskers, fur which latter offense he
was expelled frum the methodists, on the charge of pervurtin the Scripture, which
says, thou canst not make one hair white or black. Then he bort a small farm (he was a
blacksmith before), and settled daown near us, and has boted reggerlarly on the
dimmycratic ticket ever sense, but twiseonce in Harrisons time, and agin in
Taylors; and ef aour State elecshun had come befour Pennsilvany, so hed a
known old Abe was baound tu win, hed have voted for him.
Sense the war brokek aout hes jined the Quakers, and
every time he hears ov a draft bein spoken of he quakes like a piece
ocrab-apply jelly when yu fust turn it ker slap aout of the mold.
Naow theres one thing where Sarah is as like her
father as two peas. She is fond ov pollytics. She reeds the New York Herald
reggerlarly, sos tu be on all sides tu once; and dont hardly touch a
novel except the hisstorical novels in the Sunday paperss. She dont reed menny works
of fickshun, except ockashunally storys rit by the reliable correspondents of some of the
newspapers. She nevver plays whist, becawse her father was a methodist; but she cheets
awful in old maid and slap-jack, and sumtimes tells fokeses fortunes with the kards. But
they dont many of em cum true. Tho once she told Sam Jennings thet he
would be choked tu death sum dayeeting flap-jacks, as he had so menny in his maouth thet
it removed the senter of gravety, and made him top-heavy, which cawsed him tu fall daown
Waal, as I was goin tu remarc, the larst
conversashun I had with Sarah was abaout pollytics.
I was doin oaur ioningwe dont keep no
hired gurl, and I du the work mostlywhen in rushed Sarah Blue, as mad as a march
hair, and sot rite daown on my pile ov hankerchefs, thet Id put on the settle bench
after ioning of em till they was as slick as a whistle.
"Charity! What du you think?" says she,
as pail as a gost.
"Why, for the lands sake, whats the
matter?" says I.
"Matter enuff!" she ansered, looking the very
picture of skorn. "Old Abe Lincoln has made a nu proclamashun!"
"Waal naow," says I, "Im glad
ont!is it good?"
Yu see I didnt know exackly what it wasI
didnt know but it was sum nu kin of cake hed maid. Yu know we hev Washingtun
Cake, and Lecshun Cake, and why shuldnt we hev Lincun Cake? Haowever, I
didnt tell Sarah what I thort it was, and I was glad I didnt arterwards.
"Good! Ther aint no good tu it," she
replyed; "dont yu think hes gorne and told all the niggers tu cut sticks
and run from there marsters as farst as thay kan; and he is trying tu aggeravate aour
Suthern brethren [thets what she kalls the rebels], and Im afrade they
wunt like it!"
"Du tell!" said I.
"Oh Abe, dear Abe!" says she, agoin
rite daown on her nees tu the picture of the present ockupent ov the White Haouse,
"du evry thing else but that! Kill the Saouth with yure bagonets, run em
thro with sords, shute em with pistuls, and knock em over with the
cannons rore, but spare, oh! spare thare pockets! Skin em alive, but
dont tutch their niggars!"
"Dont yu mind a wurd she says!" cried I,
impashuntly. "She dont knnow what shes a saying! Go it, Farther Abraham,
and Ill sustane yu!"
"Grimes and liberty!" "Glory
Dont yu think, Mister Edditer, that kritter gut so
mad, she up and took one of my own flat ions and kum at me like a wild-cat!
I emmejitly seesed hold of the tongs, and we fit thare in
the kitchen till her face looked as if shed hed the small-pox, and mine was puffed
up as tis when I hev the tooth-ake, and all my kleen close that Id oined hed
tu be put inter the was agin.
I hevnt bin aout ov the haouse sence.
But I had my reevenge, fur I rit a poima sarkastical
poim, ov coarseabaout the abolishun ov nigger slavery, and sent it tu Sarah Blue,
and sined it Trooth, so shed know who rit it. She hasnt spunk anuff tu anser
it, tho. Her it si, deer reeder: