BEING ANOTHER AND FINAL CHRISTMAS REPORT; INCLUDING A SMALL STORY
FROM OUR UNCLE ABE; A CIRCULAR FROM THE SECRETARY OF STATE; A
SUPERNATURAL CAROL FROM SERGEANT O'PAKE; AND A TREMENDOUS GHOST
STORY FROM AN UNAPPRECIATED GENIUS.

WASHINGTON, D.C., Dec. 27th, 1864

Upon these holy anniversary-days of "Peace on Earth, good-will toward
men," the American human mind is naturally prone to regret that the
well-known Southern Confederacy still survives, in a degree, all its
inexpressible spankings, and still compels the noblest of us to pour
out our substitutes like water. You, my boy, have poured out your
substitute; other great and good men have poured out _their_
substitutes, and your devoted pockets bleed at every pour.

O war! thirsty and strategical war! how dost thou pierce the souls of
all our excellent Democratic journals, against whom the increased
war-tax on whiskey is an outrage not to be mentioned without swearing.

On Christmas-day, my boy, there came to this city a profound Democratic
chap of much stomach, who wore a seal-ring about as large as a
breakfast-plate, and existed in a chronic condition of having the bosom
of his shirt unbuttoned to such a degree as to display picturesquely
the red flannel underneath. He ran for Sheriff of Squankum last month,
my boy; and having been defeated with great slaughter, concluded that
all was gall and bitterness, and that he couldn't do better than come
to Washington and improve the President's mind.

At the time of the interview, our Honest Abe was sitting before the
fire, peeling an apple with a jack-knife; and the fact that part of his
coat-collar was turned inside, did not lessen in him that certain
generous dignity which hale good-nature ever wears, as morning wears
the sun.

"Mr. President," says the profound Democratic chap, spitting with
dazzling accuracy into a coal-hod on the opposite side of the room; "I
call upon you to-day, sir, not as a politician, but as a friend. And as
a friend, sir"--here the Democratic chap wore a high-moral look, and
his shirt-bosom yawned as though eager to take all the world into the
red-hot depths of his affectionate flannel heart,--"as a friend, sir, I
feel bound to tell you, that your whole administrative policy is wrong;
and as for your Emancipation Proclamation, it has had no effect at all,
as I can see."

Here the profound Democratic chap stuck a cheap bone eyeglass into his
right eye, and seemed to think th