Review And Telegraph

WINDSOR TEAM—No. 3.

Mr. Green: That talk of uncle's and mine on politics, which I told you we'd had in my last piece, took up full two hours by the dial. It is true we dropped the subject a minute about supper time, but 'twas only in romance, for Uncle said he was so full of new ideas that he couldn't eat a crumb. I told him that his filling up so, wasn't owing to any thing I'd done; that I'd only been holding up to his view the true democracy, and that never attacked a man in the stomach. Uncle said he couldn't say that his difficulty lay in his stomach, that to be sure he hadn't no appetite, and on that account it was natural to think it did, but then he felt an awful sense of fulness, and was dreadful uncomfortable all over. I told him that was owing to his having had so much to do with the Hartford Times; that it was the nature of that paper to blow a man up, that Mitchell himself looked just like a bladder, and if he wanted once more to look and feel as he used to in old times, he must keep the plaguey thing away from him. Upon this he stepped to his great coat pocket and hauled out a bundle of the Times newspaper and John M. Niles speech, and handed 'em to me, and says he there, take 'em away, but dont burn 'em, for they'll make a smoke that just as like as not 'll poison us, and I'm swelled bad enough now; but take 'em and put 'em into some place where the loco foeos won't find 'em. Says I, gad, Uncle, there ain't no such place as I know of, unless you put 'em into the meeting house. So I took and labeled 'em "SPURIOUS DEMOCRATIC DOCUMENTS, TO BE PUT WHERE THE LOCO FOCOS WONT FIND EM;" and as I wasn't going to meeting next day, I told the boys as they were going down to Mr. Loomis' to buy a coat's cloth, to call and leave 'em at Deacon Phelps'. Now my oldest boy, who's full of fun, and amazing fond of tipping the wink, wanted to know if when he left the bundle he should do that thing to Mr. Phelps? I told him no, by no means; that Mr Phelps wasn't like an auctioneer—that he didn't need a wink from no man—that just as soon as he see the label he'd tell his hired man Virgil, when he went to meeting next day to take the bundle and put it into his pew. But my other boy, who's a sober crittur, and a good deal given to saving, wanted to know why we couldn't hide the bundle till Uncle was gone, and so have it for waste paper, to do up the children's dinner in, when they went to school? This touched me, and says I Harlow, do you want your little sister's sausage done up in one of these papers, when only yesterday you told me that one of Mr. Hollister's men said he knew a good boy that was made a right down liar, by just blowing his nose with a piece of the Times? Why no, said he, if there's any danger from it, but he supposed there was a mighty difference in the effects of poison, on a living boy & a piece of a dead hog! I told him that was true. but that it wasn't the sausage that would be hurt by it, but the person that eat it; but further than that, I'd made it a rule never to let any writing or printing lie about my house, that was calculated to corrupt the mind.

I couldn't send this piece containing Uncle's and my argument this week, as I promised, because Uncle thought he ought to have the reading on't first, to see whether we agree in the facts. He meant to been over Monday, but he says he really ain't well. Yesterday he thought he'd got the dropsy, and sent for the Doctor; and to day I heard he said it was the mumps, and that he tho't he'd catched cold and they'd fell! but his wife tells him its nothing but locofocoism working off. Now that's the fact, and I sent word to Aunt to put draughts on his feet, and keeping him reading the Review, and he'd soon come out as clean as a whistle. I heard you left word at the stone house, if I was in Hartford the day the locos had their great meeting, by all means to drop in. Twas a curious message to leave for me, when I wouldn't failed being there for nothing. I was down that morning by nine o'clock, and got my load off, and the team a baiting by the middle of the forenoon and in ten minutes after, I was up in the Convention. But I've got a little before my story. I was up stairs, but I couldn't get in. But while I stood there musing to myself, and thinking how much this was like the old Hartford Convention, only I believe there wasn't any fighting in that, I happened to tread on the tail of a dog that was up there, and he set up such a halabaloo, that pretty soon I heard somebody say hallo, theres fighting outside as well as in. and that minute the door opened, and out come Deacon Pinney! Ah says I, Deacon Pinney, how do you do? I don't remember you sir, said the Deacon, but whoever you be, I'll thank you to call me by my other title. I ask your pardon Deacon, says I, but I knew you'd been turned out of being Judge of Probate, and I thought likely the title of Judge wouldn't be agreeable. Yes, (said a brother teamster, who happened to come up just at that time.) and out of the Church too!! This was a settler, and the Judge, to call him by his other title, backed in, and bolted the door.

Well says I, stranger, now we may as well go down; the people aint wanted here. 'Taint no democratic convention. It's only a parcel of Mr. Niles' cattle, that a few old heads have got locked in there, to see if they cant make 'em nominate Mr Niles for Governor. Says he, you speak about "making on 'em," do you suppose they're puttin the screws to em? Screws to'em? yes says I, the worst kind. Your loco foco democrats can't make a nomination without using the screws. Well says he, if thats the way they work it, I aint a democrat. But what did you mean about cattle? Why says I where've you been? He said he'd been teaming for about a year, for a dutchman in Pennsylvany. Well says I, then you are excusable. But this is what I meant about cattle. When your party got beat so last year, Mr. Niles said 'twas owing to the democrats in factories and other dependant situations, selling themselves to the whigs, like cattle. Well says he any man that would say that about our poor people, ought to be lynched. For one says he, before I'll vote for him, I'll go to the poor house. Says I stranger, if you ever should go there, dont you go into a loco foco poor house; for they put the screws to folks there sometimes, but not till after they're dead. Says I, haint you never heard of the boil up law? No, he hadn't heard of that. Well says I, you'll wish you was back in "Pennsylvany" when you do. Says I, in 1833, your democratic legislature fell dreadfully in love with the Doctors. and in order to get 'em all on to their side, they made a law, that if a man died in the poor house, and his friends didn't claim him in so many hours. his body was to be given to the Doctors, and they were to boil him, till his flesh come off his bones, and then they were to take the bones and fasten 'em together by wires, and that made a skeleton of him—and then he was either to be kept for the benefit of the doctors, or sold, to the highest bidder. But said I, the Whigs as quick as they got into power repealed that law. but some of the overseers of the loco-foco poor houses don't know it to this day, and therefore it ain't safe to get into 'em. Well says he, Iam scared now. Poor men I'm thinking don't stand much of a chance. It's put the screws to 'em here. and boil 'em up there, and what the devil won't they do to 'em next. Oh, says I, your folks promise if the people will give 'em the power again, they'll do better. Promise! says he, and do you suppose the people will be such eternal fools as to trust to their promises? I'd sooner trust a dog with my dinner. Says I, have a caution here, stranger, for if a few more of your sub treasurers run away, you wont have money enough left to buy a dinner. Thunder and light'ning says he, whats a coming now? I asked him if he hadn't heard how two of the President's pets, a Mr. Price and Swartwout, had run off with a couple of million of the peoples money; no, he said he hadn't heard of that. I told him that this was the operation of the sub-treasury scheme, that by that scheme, the office holders kept the money in their own hands, instead of depositing it in banks to the credit of the Government, and when they got enough into their hands to enable them to go to Europe and live like nabobs, then they cut stick.— Upon this says he friend, I believe I shall cut stick myself. I've heard about as much as I can stand to day. So I give him my hand, told him he'd better start in season to get past the poor houses by day light and we parted. And here Mr. Green you and I'll part, till some time next week. It may be so muddy that I shant get down, then. If I don't you can get that fellow that works in the brick yard to write you another piece. I wish you'd write to Mr. Brockway, and ask him to tell Judge Pinney that I didn't mean to insult him, but if he thinks I did, that he can have satisfaction from

WINDSOR TEAM