Uncle Abe was lately visited by one of the "On to Richmond" sword of Gideon gentry, who confidently expressed the hope, so common among the Abolition noodles, that Lee's army would be "bagged." Uncle Abe grinned to the utmost of his classic mouth, and remarked that he was afraid there would be too much "nigger mathematics" in it. The visitor smiled at the allusion, as he felt bound in politeness to do supposing there must be something in it, though he could not see the point. "But I suppose you don't know what 'nigger mathematics' is," continued Uncle Abe. "Lay down your hat a minute, and I'll tell you." He, himself, resumed the sitting posture leaned back in his chair, elevated his heels on the table, and went on with his story. "There was a darkey in my neighborhood, called Pompey, who, from a certain quickness in figuring up the prices of chickens and vegetables, got the reputation of being a mathematical genius. Johnson, a darkey preacher, heard of Pompey, and called to see him. 'Here ye're a great mat'm'tishum, Pompey.' 'Yes sar, you jas try.' 'Well Pompey, Ize compound a problem in mat'matics.' 'All right, sar.' 'Now, Pompey, spose dere am tree pigeons sittin' on a rail fence, and you fire a gun at'em and shoot one, how many's left?' 'Two, ob cooors,' replies Pompey after a little wool scratching. 'Ya-ya-ya,' laughs Mr. Johnson; 'I knowed you was a fool, Pompey; dere's none left—one's dead, and d'udder two's flown away.' "That's what makes me say," continued Uncle Abe, "that I am afraid there was too much nigger mathematics in the Pennsylvania campaign." And the result showed that in this instance, at least, the anecdote suited the fact. Lee's army was then three pigeons. One of them was taken down at Gettysburg, but the other two flew off over the Potomac.