Preparation of the Message.

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Washington, 2d Nov. 1833.
To my old friend, Mr. Dwight, of the New York Daily Advertiser.

The Congressmen are jest beginnin to arrive here,
and I suppose in a short time we shall have them here
as thick as huckleberries; and the Gineral is brushin
round now, and says the Message must be finished and
painted off hand, and we are all as busy as bees in gittin
it dove tailed together; and after next week, the Gineral
says, there cant be any more alterations. It is the first
message I ever had any hand in; and tho' I say it, I guess
you will say it is about as complete a thing as ever was
sent express any where.

I have been to work on it ever since we was at the
Rip-Raps; and tho' it has been sometimes all pulled to
bits, to git in some notions we did n't think on, yet it
will look pritty slick, I tell you when it's done; and
we will lay on paint enuf to kiver up all the cracks and
seams.

We shall give a pritty good lick at the Bank, and
won't leave as much on 't standing as would make a
good sized oven. It is curius now to see how easy it
is to build up, or nock all to bits, any thing on paper.
Now jest see about the Bank. There it stands in Chestnut
street, with its hundred cord of specie, and its cart
load of books; and its branches here and there, and all
busy and full of clarks, and directors, and folks in
Europe. and all about creation dealin with it; and the
brokers in Wall street all busy about it; and Biddle's
bills goin about, and most folks thinkin they are better
than hard dollars; and all the old men and women holdin
the stock, supposin it will go up agin as high as they
paid for it; and I and the Gineral, and Amos Kindle,

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and Mr. Van Buren, talkin over it; and one line in the
Message nocks it all into kindlin wood. For you see
when `The Government' says a thing must be jest so!
there is no help for it. We can't stand to chat about
trifles. The Gineral has smashed three pipes the last
time we talked about it. `Biddle and the Bank must be
smashed,' says he, `Major;'—and so smash they go,
Congress or no Congress.

The next thing was the Ingins. Here the Gineral is
at home, and I don't pretend to say nothin for I never
did like an Ingin, and never can. The Cherokees
give us a good deal of trouble in Georgia last year; but
the Gineral took sides with Georgia, because he had a
good many friends there, and Mr. Van Buren had too;
for that State was the ony one that nominated him Vice
President a spell ago; and if he had got in there, and
Mr. Crawford President, who was ailin all over with
some plaguy appleplexy—I and the Gineral would never
have been hearen on arterwards. But no matter.—The
Gineral says he didn't make that treaty with the Cherokees;
and it was made so long ago, he has enymost forgot
it: and treaties oughtent to last forever. But this
treaty with the Creeks in Alabama he did make, and he
knows all about it; and he means to stand by it, and
turn all the squatters off the land in Alabama, jest as
they wanted him to do in Georgia; but he would n't.
There is trouble enuf about it, I tell you; and you dont
know nothing about it in York. But the Gineral is
tickled to death about it; and as soon as he saw the
Proclamation of the Governor of Alabama, you never
see a critur so spruced up as the Gineral was. Major,
says he, we shall have another Nullification this Congress,
arter all. You need 't say much about it, says
he, in the Message,—we'll keep that for a Proclamation.
Well, says I, Gineral, you are a master hand at gettin
into trouble. But, says he, Major, aint I a master one
in gittin out of one, says he?

We've got an old trunk up chamber full of troubles—
old Laws, and Treaties, and Contracts, and State

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Claims; and whenever we want any powder, all we've
got to do is to open that, and look among old papers
and get up a row in no time. The Gineral likes this a
leetle better that I do; for the most of the labor falls on
me, and the ony way I can git rid of it, is to make our
folks down stairs do it, if I see it gives any of 'em a
boost with his party—for I dont care nothin about any
thing here but the Gineral; and if I can git him threw
this Congress, its pretty much all I care about, and he
too; for arter that I'm goin with him to the Hermitage,
for I expect by that time there wont be much more left
of us than our beards and shoe strings.