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LETTER OF MAJOR JACK DOWNING.

To my old friend Seba Smith, what used to edit the Portland
Courier, but now edits the ROVER Magazine, 162
Nassau street, New York.

DOWNINGVILLE, away down east, in the State of Maine,
January 17, 1844.

MY DEAR OLD FRIEND: I've got my cheap literature deepo agoing here like all possest. It goes like a steam engine, and works to admiration. Business increased so upon me in two weeks that I had to employ four new hands; two to keep watch at the back door, when the expresses and mails arrive, and to stand by to unload and shovel in, and two inside for packin and pilin, and Zeb to sell off. That Zeb will do as much work as two common hands any day, as I told you in my last letter. I should think he would sell upon an average about a cord and a half of cheap literature in a day. You may judge by that, what a vent we have for cheap literature here. The Downingville folks are getting to be terrible gluttons in the readin line; and besides, we have a mighty back country all round us that depends on our village for their supplies. And, as you know, Downingville is jest about in the middle of down east, there is no tellin how fast we can swaller it.

I'm very much obleeged to you for taking hold so prompt to be my agent there in York. I asked you to send me a copy of everything there was agoing, the moment it sees day-light. I believe you've done that, clear up to the chalk, and sometimes a leetle more; for I spose I get some things before they see day-light in York. I've jest got a copy of Gineral Duff Green's new paper; and I see by the date of it, that it is to come out next Monday, the 22d. By the way, can you tell me which side Duff Green is on now? I've looked his paper over, and I cant seem to get the track of him exactly. I want to know if he is on our side, as he used to be in old times. You know I was always for Gineral Jackson, let who would be up. I mean, in them good old times when parties knew how they stood; when the Gineral and I was on one side, and Biddle and the Bank on 'tother; and 'twas all fair fight and no favor. But now in these new-fangled times, a feller dont half the time know where he stands. He's jest as likely to get into the wrong company, and be fighting under the wrong Cap'n as the right one; and perhaps never find his mistake till the battle is all over, and they go to dividing the spiles.

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side Duff Green is upon, before I undertake to sell his
paper at my deepo. If he is on our side, and means
to stick to the true republican ground, I'll take hold
and push his paper like wild-fire. But if he's on 'to-
ther side, or any of the 'tother sides, I'll jest tell Zeb
to take em all and pack and pile em away, out in the
ten acre lot, and there let them lay till the next Presi
dent comes in. He sent a prospectus of his paper to
uncle Joshua as much as a month ago, and a private
letter at the same time, that uncle Joshua never would
let me see. I've had several talks with uncle about it;
but when I come to the point, and ask him who Duff
Green is for, for the [next President, he sheers off and
goes to talking about something else. At last one day

I pinned him right down to it; and
Gineral Jackson?"

Says uncle, says he, "No."

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says I, is he for

"Is he for Henry Clay ?" says I. "No he isn't," says uncle.

"Well, is he for Martin ?" says I. Uncle shook his head.

"Is he for Daniel Webster, then?" says I. Uncle said, "no."

"May be he means to come out for Gineral Scott," says I. Uncle shook his head.

"Is he for Cap'n Tyler ?" said I. Uncle laff'd, but shook his head again.

"May be he's agoing to run up his flag for Gineral Cass," says I. Uncle said no.

"Well, then, is he going for Calhoun ?" says I. Uncle laff'd out the 'tother corner of his mouth then; and says he, "what under the sun put that into your head, Jack? All I can say about it," says uncle, says he, "is, that Duff Green will come out right side up, on the republican ground, wherever 'tis." And then he took a chaw of tobacker, and went to readin a newspaper, and we dropped the subject.

I've jest got Mr. Graham's Magazine for February down here at my deepo. I see he is givin portraits of writers once in awhile in it, and says "the face and biography of every writer of note in the union will be embraced in the series." I'm afraid he'll get hold of that portrait of mine, that you've got in the Rover, and tuck it right in his magazine, the next thing. I dont spose it's any use for me to say a word to him about it. But perhaps he'd harken to you, if you should speak to him about it, if you'll jest be so kind, and tell him I dont want he should take that, for my friends say it dont do me justice. If he is really bent upon having my portrait to go in along with the rest of em, tell him if he'll wait a little while I'll come down to York and have it painted new. And I wish you'd pick me out the best painter there is in York to take it. And perhaps when it's done about right, you'd be for putting it in the Rover, instead of that one that you are using now. Cousin Nabby says if I was well painted, I should be as smart a lookin chap as any that Graham has had in his Magazine yet.

But I want you to keep this part of my letter, about my having my portrait taken, entirely private; jest between you and me, and not let any body see it. For I'm afraid, if that Mr. Davis, that's been going around among folks so much for five or six years past, and everywhere calling himself me, should find out I was agoing to have my portrait taken, he might whip right into some of the shops there and get his done first, and then show it all round to every body at York, and

Now I want to know, as clear as daylight, which Washington, and Saratoga, and all about, and tell

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folks that was me too. So I think we better keep dark
about the portrait, till we get it all cut and dried, and
a few cart loads of em worked off, and Beach's express
line and Burgess and Stringer's mail bags all loaded
down and ready to start off like a shot all over the
country, before Davis has a chance to cut in with his
So jest
portrait and try to make folks think it's me.
keep mum on that matter for the present.
I havn't had time to examine the other magazines
and books that come in the last load. So I cant at
present say anything about em. Cousin Nabby and
aunt Keziah both sends their love to you, and I remain
your old beloved friend,

MAJOR JACK DOWNING.

THE ROVER OMNIBUS.

OUR CARGO FOR THIS WEEK.

MAJOR DOWNING's third letter. We never find it necessary to recommend the Major. He alway speaks for himself.

Johnny Beedle's sleigh-ride. If any one has the blues, let him read it, and laugh and grow fat.

The Handsome Stranger. A story full of plot and interest, by Mrs. Embury.

Nannabozho. A capital Indian legend, by C. F. Hoffman. Our North American Indians are a poetical people, as most rude nations are. Some of their legends evince wonderful powers of imagination.

The No-Childed House and the Many-Childed
House. A graphic and life-like sketch.

Concealments. A terrible domestic dilemma.
The Battle of Brandywine. A vivid sketch.
Shakspere. A rich article.

So much for the solids, the eatables. Then comes the drinkables, the wine of poetry. In this line, we have on board, this trip, a delightful poem of Park Benjamin's, called Children. Some strong and stirring verses from T. B. Read, on Winter. A pretty scrap for sentimental ladies, by W. W. Story. And the rich old song of "Wife, Children, and Friends."

THE ROVER BOOK-TABLE. GRAHAM'S MAGAZINE for February has two very good plates; "the Monks of St. Bernard," and a fancy portrait called "Viola." It contains, also, in a lighter style of engraving, a portrait of Joseph C. Neal, which is said to be a good likeness. The pages of this number exhibit the usual respectable array of light literature. The following scrap, by W. W. Story, is gracefully and happily moulded.

There, reader, if you can get a better dinner than that anywhere in New York, for six pence, or "four pence happeny" as they call it down east, we must say the price of board is coming down.

P. S.-We have not included in the above invoice, or bill of fare, whichever you please to call it, the Omnibus, and the book-table, and the spices, and the candiments, to which each one will please to help himself without ceremony.

LAMENT.

Thou glidest on, oh glimmering stream,
Thou murmurest on as ever!

But the heart most dear no more is here
Forevever and forever.

No more-I hear it in the pines
That moan with sullen roar—
Those stars shall shine in eyes of thine
No more-oh never more!

Grieve on, sad autumn wind, grieve on!
She lieth the grass beneath;

I make my moan by her grave alone,
For the violets have her breath.

Oh lonely night! oh wandering moon!
Have ye no word for me?

Oh love and sorrow! oh day and morrow!
Must ye forever be ?

From HARPER & BROTHERS we have, this week, "Sweethearts and Wives, or before and after marriage," by T. S. Arthur; a neat little volume of about 160 pages, handsomely done up in cloth binding with gilt backs, for thirty-seven and a half cents. The pen of Arthur for two or three years past has been exceedingly prolific. We have not been able to read but a small portion of what he has given to the public; but we have read enough to find that his productions possess one high recommendation; that is, a healthy moral tone. He writes for the mass, and is pretty extensively read.

Also, from the same publishers, "Invitations to true Happiness, and motives for becoming a Christian; by Joel Parker, D. D. pastor of the Clinton street Presbyterian church, Philadelphia." This book is about the same size, and got up in the same style as the prece ding. This little work belongs to the class of the really useful publications, and as such can be recommended with confidence.

From BURGESS, STRINGER & Co. we have "The American in Paris during the summer," by Jules Janin. It is a picture of Parisian life in the court, the saloons, and the family circle, its sports, amusements and festivities. The book makes nearly 120 pages, neatly printed, and is sold for twenty-five cents. The publishers announce it as the first number of a new

a month through the season.

THAT PORTRAIT.—In reply to a request of our friend Major Downing, in his letter in the present number, we respectfully inform him, that we have applied to that very clever artist, Giovanni Thompson, to take his portrait. And the artist was pleased to say that he would have his paints, brushes, easel, pallet, and every-series, to be brought out in uniform style, two or three thing, all in prime order, and hold himself in readiness at a moment's warning to commence operations the moment the Major arrives. So that there is a fair prospect that the features of our distinguished friend may be presented to the public in the best style of the art. Still, we insist upon it, that the portrait of the Major, which we have in the RoVER, is a very striking likeness of what the Major was in the early part of his public career. But we know there is such a thing in portrait painting as getting too strong a likeness, and perhaps that is the case in the present instance.

NEW MUSIC, published by Atwill, 201 Broadway. Songs of the sea, "Ride o'er the waves," with a beautifully embellished title page.

"The Adaline Waltz;" dedicated to Mrs. F. P. M. Stetson.

"Mary Josephine's Waltz;" inscribed to Miss Mary Josephine Atwill.

"And wilt thou weep when I am low?" dedicated to Miss Eliza Heath.

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