Rising from the fierce ordeal washed in blood and purified,See the future stretch before thee, limitless on every side;And in all the deep'ning envy of the nations wed to sloth,Mark the record of thy progress, see the mirror of thy growth.Rising from thy purifying, like a giant from his rest,Thou shalt find thy praise an echo from the East unto the West;Thou shalt find thy love a message from the South unto the North,Each its past mistake of duty finding out and casting forth.And thy States in new communion, by the blood they all have shed,Shall be wedded to each other in the pardon of the dead;Each, a scale of steel to cover vital part from foreign wrong,All, a coat of armor guarding that to which they All belong.Thou shalt measure seas with navies, span the earth with iron rails,Catch the dawn upon thy banner and the sunset on thy sails;Northern halls of ice shall echo to thy sailor's merry note,And the standard of thy soldier on the Southern isle shall float.Turning to thy mother, England, thou shalt find her making boastOf the Great Republic westward, born of strength that she has lost;And thy Saxon blood shall join ye, never to be torn apart,Moving onward to the future, hand in hand and heart to heart.
Rising from the fierce ordeal washed in blood and purified,See the future stretch before thee, limitless on every side;And in all the deep'ning envy of the nations wed to sloth,Mark the record of thy progress, see the mirror of thy growth.
Rising from thy purifying, like a giant from his rest,Thou shalt find thy praise an echo from the East unto the West;Thou shalt find thy love a message from the South unto the North,Each its past mistake of duty finding out and casting forth.
And thy States in new communion, by the blood they all have shed,Shall be wedded to each other in the pardon of the dead;Each, a scale of steel to cover vital part from foreign wrong,All, a coat of armor guarding that to which they All belong.
Thou shalt measure seas with navies, span the earth with iron rails,Catch the dawn upon thy banner and the sunset on thy sails;Northern halls of ice shall echo to thy sailor's merry note,And the standard of thy soldier on the Southern isle shall float.
Turning to thy mother, England, thou shalt find her making boastOf the Great Republic westward, born of strength that she has lost;And thy Saxon blood shall join ye, never to be torn apart,Moving onward to the future, hand in hand and heart to heart.
At the conclusion of this last reading, my boy, we separated. When we are "heart to heart" with England, my boy, the heart that is underneath may possibly have ceased to beat.
Yours, to beat, or not to beat,Orpheus C. Kerr.
PORTRAYING A SOCIAL EFFECT OF THE POSTAGE-STAMP CURRENCY, DESCRIBING THE GREAT WAR MEETING IN ACCOMAC, RECORDING THE LATEST EXPLOIT OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE, AND INTRODUCING A DRAFTING ITEM.
PORTRAYING A SOCIAL EFFECT OF THE POSTAGE-STAMP CURRENCY, DESCRIBING THE GREAT WAR MEETING IN ACCOMAC, RECORDING THE LATEST EXPLOIT OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE, AND INTRODUCING A DRAFTING ITEM.
Washington, D. C., August 9th, 1862.
If tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep, should ever take it into her head to invade our distracted country, she would meet with less resistance in Washington than it is possible for the able-bodied mind to comprehend. Notwithstanding the fact that President Lincoln is an honest man, my boy, the genius of Slumber has opened a large wholesale establishment here, and the tendency to repose is so general that the authorities are just able to wink at secession sympathizers. It takes so long to get the news of the war from New York, that our citizens grow languid in the intervals. On Monday, indeed, an enterprising chap from Nantucket opened a Museum on the outskirts of the town, by way of varying the monotony, and quite a numerous crowd assembled to witness the performance. This Museum comprises a real two shilling piece, inclosed in a strong glass case, to preserve it from the violence of the mob, and even respectable old married men go to see it, for the sake of past associations. On the occasion of my visit tothis unique establishment I arrived shortly before the exhibition began, and found a brilliant array of beauty and fashion for an audience. It was quite interesting, my boy, to hear the conversation going on. There was a fine young chap just in front of me who has recently been appointed to the staff of the Commander-in-Chief in consequence of his great experience in the coal business, and says he to another Lubin's Extracts chap:
"Fwedwick, who is that wavishing creatchah ovah they-ar, with the Peach-Orchard eyes and Lehigh hair?"
"Aw, dimmy," says Lubin's Extracts, "that's the great heiress. She's worth eighty thousand postage-stamps."
"The wed kind?" says the young staff-chap, eagerly—"is it the sticky wed kind, Fwed?"
"No," says Lubin's Extracts, scornfully; "it's the green ten cent kind."
"Intwojoose me," says the staff-chap, excitedly—"intwojoose me, Fwed; I must know her—upon my soul I must."
Upon his soul, my boy—he said upon hissoul! When it is possible for an introduction to take place upon such a soul as that, my boy, it will be comparatively able to manœuvre an elephant brigade on the extreme point of an infant needle.
When the manager of the Museum came out to lecture upon his great natural curiosity, there was immediate silence; and when the case was uncovered, revealing the quarter to full view, several very old gentlemenfainted! Alas! they remembered the time when—but no matter now—no matter now.
"Ladies and gentlemen," says the manager, pointing solemnly to his treasure, "the rare and beautiful coin which you now behold was well known to our forefathers, who stamped the figure of Liberty upon it, in order to show the world that this is the only country where man is at Liberty to deal in slaves by way of financial speculation. This rare coin disappeared as soon as the Liberty I speak of seemed to be endangered, nor will it reappear in this country again while there are so many brokers ahead."
On quitting this admirable exhibition, my boy, I did not return to this city, but went immediately down to Accomac, to attend the great Union meeting. Accomac, my boy, has at length determined that this war shall be vigorously carried on, even if it takes several public speakers to say so; and the conduct of Accomac, in calling a meeting for such a purpose, reminds me of a chap in the Sixth Ward.
He was a respectable family chap, who had formed a partnership with all his neighbors for the express purpose of taking entire and exclusive charge of their business for them, and evinced such a deep interest in the most private affairs of his friends, that absence did not conquer their love for him. One Sunday there was a city missionary at the church he attended, who implored the aid and prayers of the congregation in behalf of a poor but pious family, who were starving to death around the corner. "Hev any tracts been left with our suffering frens?" says the respectable chap, rising in his pew and pinching his benevolentchin thoughtfully. "Yes," says the missionary, sadly, "we sent them some tracts on the immortality of the soul; but, horrible to relate, they gained no flesh by them." The respectable chap, who was a baker by profession, was much moved by this revelation of human depravity, and says he to a bald-headed chap in the next pew: "Brother Jones, you must attend to this sad case in the morning. We must remember our fellow-beings in affliction, Brother Jones. Early to-morrow you must take some bread to this suffering family. If you have no bread of your own, Brother Jones," says the respectable chap, feelingly, "come to my shop and I—I will sell you some for this charitable purpose." But Brother Jones proved to be a grievous backslider, my boy, and said he had an engagement to go to Hoboken on the morning in question. "Very well," says the respectable chap, when he heard this, "then I will arrange it in another way. Tell our starving brothers and sisters to have faith," says he to the missionary, in a heartfelt manner, "and they shall be fed, even as the ravings fed my old friend Elijah." So, the next day he called a meeting of brethren to pray that food might be sent to the suffering ones, and they used up the entire English language in prayer to such an extent, that when the respectable chap topped off with a benediction, he had to introduce some Latin quotations. They had just finished this noble work of Christian benevolence, when the missionary came tearing in, and says he: "It's all over; they're all dead; the last child starved to death half an hour ago." The respectable chap stared at him aghast, and says he: "Did you tell them tohave faith?" The missionary cracked a peanut, and says he: "Verily, I did; but they said they couldn't have faith on empty stomachs." The respectable chap pondered a while, and says he: "If they didn't have faith, my frens, the whole matter is explained. We, at least, have done our duty. We have prayed for them, frens—we have prayed for them." And the brethren went home to their dinners.
Public mass meetings, my boy, to help a struggling country, are like prayer-meetings to aid the starving poor; the intention is good, but the practical benefit resulting therefrom is not visible to the naked eye.
There was a large meeting at Accomac, several new liquor-shops having been opened there recently, and the speakers were as eloquent as it is possible for men to be when advising other men to do what they don't care to do themselves. A chap of large abdominal developments was specially fervid. Says he: "Let us show to them as is tyrants and reveling in the agonies of down-trodden Europe, that this Republic is able to put down all enemies whatsomever, without interfering with any of the inalienable rights of those who, though our enemies, are still our long-lost brothers. (Frantic applause.) Shall it be said that twenty-two millions of people cannot put down eight millions without injuring those eight millions? (Shrieks of approbation, and cries of "That's so!") No! a thousand times no! We fight, not to injure the South; not to interfere with them, which is our own flesh and blood, but to sustain the Constitution rendered sacred by Revolutionary gore! (Overwhelming enthusiasm.) The creatures which is trying to break up this herebeneficent Government, ask us what we are fighting for, then? Gracious hevings! what a question is this! Do they not know what we are fighting for—that in this unhappy struggle we—that our purpose, I would say, in prosecuting hostilities is to—is to—DO IT? Of course it is."
This speech, short, terse, and to the purpose, was gloriously received by everybody, except a friendless chap, who said he didn't understand the last clause; and he was immediately sent to jail for daring to be so traitorously obtuse.
Though the General of the Mackerel Brigade was seated upon the highest barrel on the platform, my boy, and blew his nose louder than any one else, he did not wish to be seen, nor did he intend that the assemblage should call upon him for the speech sticking out of his side-pocket; but when the throng accidentally found him to be the most prominent figure in sight, they thoughtlessly called upon him to say something. The General laid aside his fan with some embarrassment, and says he:
"My children, I love you. My children," says the General, motioning to his aid to fill the tumbler again, "I daresay you expect me to say something, and though I am unprepared to speak, there is one thing I will say. If anything goes wrong in this war, nobody is to blame, as I alone am responsible. Bless you, my children."
As the idol of the populace finished these touching remarks, and resumed his tumbler and fan, there was but one sentiment in the whole of that vast assemblage, and a democratic chap immediately went andtelegraphed to Syracuse that the prospect for a Democratic President in 1865, was beautiful.
The meeting might have lasted another week, my boy, thereby rendering the Union cause utterly invincible, but for the imprudence of an insane chap who proposed that some of the young men present should enlist. This malapropos and singularly inconsistent suggestion broke up the assemblage at once, in great disorder—volunteering being just the last thing that any one thought of doing. Greatly edified and encouraged by what I had heard, my boy, I made all haste for Paris, where I found the Mackerel Brigade and Commodore Head's fleet in great excitement over the case of an Irish gentleman who believed this to be a white man's war, and had started for Paris, just fourteen minutes after landing in this country, for the express purpose of protesting against any labor being performed by negroes, while there were white men to do it. Colonel Wobert Wobinson, of the Anatomical Cavalry, quieted him by saying that, although a number of negroes were then engaged in digging trenches, a new line of holes in a far more unhealthy place would be commenced in the morning, and that none but Irishmen should be permitted to dig them.
On the night previous to my arrival, my boy, while all the Mackerels were watching the stars with a view to prevent any surprise from that quarter, the Southern Confederacy on the other side of Duck Lake trained four large fowling-pieces upon their peaceful camp from behind a wood-pile, and commenced a ferocious and ear-splitting bombardment. It was some hours before our men could be got into position to return thefire, as Captain Bob Shorty had forgotten where they had put the Orange County Howitzers when last using them. The fleet, too, was somewhat delayed in getting into action, as Commodore Head experienced some difficulty in unlocking the box into which he always puts his spectacles and slow-match before retiring at night.
Finally, however, the howitzers were discovered behind some boards, and the spectacles and slow-match were forthcoming, and our troops were pouring a hot fire across Duck Lake before the Confederacy had got two-thirds of the way back to Richmond. Next morning, my boy, the Conic Section crossed the Lake, and cleared away everything on the opposite shore except the before-mentioned wood-pile. The latter contains the same kind of wood that was burned in the time of Washington, my boy, and twenty men were appointed to guard it from the profanation of our troops. We must protect such property at all hazards, my boy, or the Constitution becomes a nullity.
Having crossed the treacherous element to view the immediate scene of these proceedings, and learned from Captain Villiam Brown that our pickets were within ten miles of the Confederacy's capital, I was about to make some short remark, when a messenger came riding forward in a great perspiration, and says he;
"Our pickets have been driven in."
"Ha!" says Villiam, "is the Confederacy again advancing upon the United States of America?"
"Our pickets," says the messenger, impressively"have been driven in; they have been driven into Richmond."
"Ah!" says Villiam, pleasantly, "then send out some more pickets."
I strolled away from the pair, my boy, reflecting upon the possibility of enough Mackerel pickets reaching Richmond in this way to make the Union sentiment there stronger than ever, and was looking listlessly to my footing, when I chanced to espy a paper on the ground. Picking it up, I found it to be a note from the wife of the Southern Confederacy to her cousin, dropped, probably by one of the Confederacies of the wood-pile. It bore the date of April the First, and read as follows:
"Dear Juleyer:—I have just space of time to write you these few lines, hoping that these few lines will find you the same, and in the enjoyment of the same blessing. O my unhappy country! how art thou suffering at this present writing! I have not had a single new bonnet for two weeks, my beloved Juleyer, and my Solferino gloves are already discolored by the perspiration I have shed when thinking of my poor, dear South. My husband, the distinguished Southern Confederacy, is so reduced by trials, that he is a mere skeleton skirt. Oh, my Juleyer, how long is this to continue? Ere another century shall have passed away, the Yankees will have approached nearer Charleston and Savannah, and the blockade become almost effective. Since the Mackerel Brigade has changed its base of operations, even Richmond seems doomed to fall in less than fifty years. Everythinglooks dark. Tell me the price of dotted muslin, for undersleeves, when you write again, and believe me,
Your respected cousin,"Mrs. S. C."
There's only one thing about this letter bothers me, and that's the date, my boy—the date.
When very near this city, on my return home, I met a chap, weighing about two hundred and twenty-five pounds, who was on his way to a lawyer's to get his exemption from the draft duly filed.
"See here, my patriotic invalid," says I, skeptically, "how do you come to be exempt?"
"I am exempt," says he, in a proudly melancholy manner, "because I am suffering from a broken heart."
"Hem," says I.
"It's true," says he, sniffling dismally. "I asked the female of my heart to have me. She said I hadn't enough postage-stamps to suit her ideas of personal revenue, and she didn't care to do my washing. That was enough: my heart is broken, and I am not an able-bodied man."
Drafting, my boy, is of a nature to develop the seeds of disease in the hitherto healthy human system—seeds which, if suffered to fructify, will be likely to ultimate in what gentlemen of burglarious accomplishments would chastely and botanically denominate a very large-sized "plant."
Yours, seriously,Orpheus C. Kerr.
CONTAINING FRESH TRIBUTES OF ADMIRATION TO THE DEVOTED WOMEN OF AMERICA, AND DEVELOPING THE GREAT COLONIZATION SCHEME OF THE GENERAL OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE BLACK RACE.
CONTAINING FRESH TRIBUTES OF ADMIRATION TO THE DEVOTED WOMEN OF AMERICA, AND DEVELOPING THE GREAT COLONIZATION SCHEME OF THE GENERAL OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE BLACK RACE.
Washington, D. C., August 15th, 1862.
Once more, my boy, this affectionate heart would render tribute of gushing admiration to the large souled women of America, who are again commencing to luxuriate and comfort our majestic troops with gifts almost as useful to a soldier as a fishing-pole would be to the hilarious Arab of Sahara. As I ambled airily near Fort Corcoran on Monday, my boy, mounted on my gothic steed Pegasus, and followed by the frescoed dog Bologna, after the manner of the British nobility, I chanced upon a veteran of the Mackerel Brigade, who had come up from Paris on one of those leaves of absence which grow from the tree styled Sycamore. He was seated under a wayside oak, examining some articles that had recently come to him in a package; now and then addressing his eyes in the more earnest language of the Sixth Ward.
Having reined-in my spirited architectural animal, and merely pausing to administer a crumb of cracker from my pocket to a hapless blue-bottle fly which hadrashly alighted from the backbone of the charger, and was there starving to death, I saluted the Mackerel veteran, and, says I:
"Comrade, wherefore do you select this solitary place to use language only fitting a brigadier when he is speaking to an inferior officer, or a high-toned conservative when referring to negroes, Wendell Phillips, and the republican party?"
The veteran Mackerel sighed deeply, as he spread open the package to full view, my boy, and says he, respectfully:
"Are you a married man, my cove?"
"No," says I, with a feeling of mingled insignificance and financial complacency, "I never paid a milliner's bill in my life."
"Neither did I," said the veteran, with a gleam of satisfaction, "neither did I; I always has them charged to me; but still I am the wedded pardner of one which is a woman. I have loved her," says the veteran passionately, "I have loved her better than I loved number Three's masheen, with which I was brought up, and that seemed to me like my own brother. I have stayed home from a fire more than once to go to church with her; and the last words I said to her when I come here was: 'Old woman! if Six's foreman comes here after that wrench, while I'm away, tell him I'll break that nose of his when I come back!' We was all confidence together," says the veteran, smiting his chest, madly; "and I never threw a brick that I didn't tell her of it, and now she's gone and sent me a copy of the Temperance Pledge, a pair of skates, two bottles of toothache drops, and sixsheets of patent fly-paper. I really believe," says the veteran, bitterly—"I really believe that she thinks I ain't got nothing to do here but to keep house and take care of an aged grandmother."
At the conclusion of this unnatural speech, my boy, I hastily trotted away upon my architectural steed; for I had not patience enough to talk longer with one whose whole nature seemed so utterly incapable of appreciating those beautiful little attentions which woman's tender heart induces her to bestow upon the beloved object. Since the last time I was sick, my boy, I have entertained a positive veneration for the wonderful foresight of that blessed sex, whose eyes remind me of pearl buttons. At that period, when the doctors had given me up, and nothing but their absence seemed capable of saving my life, one of the prevalent women of America heard of my critical condition, and, by her deep knowledge of human nature, was enabled to rescue me. She sent me a bottle of stuff, my boy, saying, in a note of venerable tone, that it had cured her of chapped hands several times, and she hoped it might break my fever. With a thankful, confident heart, I threw the bottle out of the window, my boy, and got well in less than three months.
The other day, I went down to Accomac again, to see the General of the Mackerel Brigade, who had invited me to be present while he made an offer of bliss to a delegation from that oppressed race which has been the sole cause of this unnatural war, and is, therefore, exempted from all concern in it.
The General, my boy, was seated in his temporary room of audience when I arrived, examining a map ofthe Border States through a powerful magnifying-glass, and occasionally looking into a tumbler, as though he expected to find something there.
"Well, old Honesty," says I, affably, "what is our next scheme for the benefit of the human race?"
He smiled paternally upon me, and says he:
"It is my purpose to settle the Negro Question in accordance with the principles laid down in the Book of Exodus. Thunder!" says the General, with magisterial emphasis, "if we do not secure the pursuit of happiness to the slave, even, we violate the Constitution and become obnoxious to the Border communities."
I was reflecting upon this remark, my boy, and wondering what the Constitution had to do with the Book of Exodus, when the delegation made its appearance, and caused the room to darken perceptibly. Not to lose time, the General waved his hand for the visitors to be seated, and, says he:
"You and we are different races, and for this reason it must be evident to you, as well as to myself, that it is better you should be voluntarily compelled to colonize some distant but salubrious shore. There is a wide difference between our races; much wider, perhaps, than that which exists between any other two races. Your race suffers very greatly, and our race suffers in suffering your race to suffer. In a word, we both suffer, which establishes a reason why our race should not suffer your race to remain here any longer. You who are here are all present, I suppose."
A voice—"Yes, sah."
"Perhaps you have not been here all your lives.Your race is suffering the greatest wrong that ever was; but when you cease to suffer, your sufferings are still far from an equality with our sufferings. Our white men are now changing their base of operations daily, and often taking Malvern Hills. This is on your account. You are the cause of it. How you have caused it I will not attempt to explain, for I do not know; but it is better for us both to be separated, and it is vilely selfish in you (I do not speak unkindly) to wish to remain here in preference to going to Nova Zembla. The fact that we have always oppressed you renders you still more blameable, especially when we reflect upon the fact that you have never shown resistance. A trip on your part to Nova Zembla will benefit both races. I cannot promise you much bliss right away. You may starve at first, or die on the passage; but in the Revolutionary War General Washington lived exclusively on the future. He was benefitting his race; and though I do not see much similarity between his case and yours, you had better go to Nova Zembla. You may think that you could live in Washington, perhaps more so than you could on a foreign shore. This is a mistake. None but white army contractors and brigadiers on furlough can live here.
"The festive isle of Nova Zembla has been in existence for some time, and is larger than any smaller place I know of. Many of the original settlers have died, and their offspring would still be living had they lived long enough to become accustomed to the climate. You may object to go on account of your affection for our race, but it does not strike me that there is any cogentreasons for such affection. So you had better go to Nova Zembla. The particular place I have in view for your colonization is the great highway between the North Pole and Sir John Franklin's supposed grave. It is a popular route of travel, being much frequented by the facetious penguin and the flowing seal. It has great resources for ice-water, and you will be able to have ice cream every day, provided you supply yourselves with the essence of lemon and patent freezers. As to other food, I can promise you nothing. There are fine harbors on all sides of this place, and though you may see no ships there, it will be still some satisfaction to know that you have such admirable harbors. Again, there is evidence of very rich bear-hunting. When you take your wives and families to a place where there is no food, nor any ground to be cultivated, nor any place to live in, then the human mind would as naturally turn to bear-hunting as to anything else. But if you should die of starvation at the outset, even bear-hunting may dwindle into insignificance. Why I attach so much importance to bear-hunting is, it will afford you an opportunity to die more easily than by famine and exposure. Bear-hunting is the best thing I know of under such circumstances.
"You are intelligent, and know that human life depends as much upon those who possess it as upon anybody else. And much will depend upon yourselves if you go to Nova Zembla. As to the bear-hunting, I think I see the means available for engaging you in that very soon without injury to ourselves. I wish to spend a little money to get you there, and may possiblylose it all; but we cannot expect to succeed in anything if we are not successful in it.
"The political affairs of Nova Zembla are not in quite such a condition as I could wish, the bears having occasional fights there, over the body of the last Esquimaux governor; but these bears are more generous than we are. They have no objection to dining upon the colored race.
"Besides, I would endeavor to have you made equals, and have the best assurance that you should be equals of the best. The practical thing I want to ascertain is, whether I can get a certain number of able-bodied men to send to a place offering such encouragement and attractions. Could I get a hundred tolerably intelligent men, with their wives and children, to partake of all this bliss? Can I have fifty? If I had twenty-five able-bodied men, properly seasoned with women and children, I could make a commencement.
"These are subjects of very great importance, and worthy of a month's study of the paternal offer I have made you. If you have no consideration for yourselves, at least consider the bears, and endeavor to reconcile yourselves to the beautiful and pleasing little hymn of childhood, commencing:
"I would not live always;I ask not to stay."
"I would not live always;I ask not to stay."
At the termination of this flattering and paternal address, my boy, the delegation took their hats and commenced to leave in very deep silence; thereby proving that persons of African descent are utterlyinsensible of kindness and much inferior to the race at present practising strategy on this continent.
Colonization, my boy, involves a scheme of human happiness so entirely beyond the human power of conception, that the conception of it will almost pass for something inhuman.
Yours, utopianically,Orpheus C. Kerr.
GIVING A FAMILIAR ZOOLOGICAL ILLUSTRATION OF THE "SITUATION," AND CELEBRATING THE BRILLIANT STRATEGICAL EVECUATION OF PARIS BY THE MACKEREL BRIGADE.
GIVING A FAMILIAR ZOOLOGICAL ILLUSTRATION OF THE "SITUATION," AND CELEBRATING THE BRILLIANT STRATEGICAL EVECUATION OF PARIS BY THE MACKEREL BRIGADE.
Washington, D. C., August 22, 1862.
On Monday morn, my boy, whilst I was pulling on a pair of new boots that have some music in their soles, there arose near my room door a sound as of one in dire agony, closely followed by a variously-undulated moan, as of some deserted woman in distress. Hastily discontinuing my toilet, and darting to the threshold, I beheld one of those scenes of civil war which impress the sensitive soul with horror and meet the just reprobation of feeling Albion.
Rampant between two marrow-bones, my boy, was my frescoed dog, Bologna, eyeing, with horrid fury, Sergeant O'Pake's canine friend, known as Jacob Barker, and ever and anon uttering sentences of supernatural wrath. To these the excited Barker responded in deep bass of great compass, his nose curling with undisguised disdain, and his eyes assimilating to that insidious and fiery squint which betokens inexpressible malignity. There was something not of earth, my boy, in the frescoed Bologna's distortion of countenance as he attempted to keep an eye on each bone,and at the same time look full in the face of his foe; and there was that in the sounds of his strain which betokened Sirius indecision.
As I gazed upon these two infuriated wonders of natural history, my boy, and recognized the fact that the existence of two bones in contention prevented an actual battle, because neither combatant was willing to lose sight of either of them; whilst the presence of but one bone would have simplified the matter, and precipitated a decisive conflict, I could not but think that I saw symbolized before me the situation of our distracted country.
The United States of America, my boy, and the well-known Southern Confederacy, are like two irascible terriers practising defiant strategy between two bones, the one being the festive negro-question, and the other the Union. Now it seems to me, my boy—it seems to me, that if the gay animal with U. S. on his collar would only dispose of the bone nearest him without further vocalism, there would be a better chance for him to secure the other bone in the combat sure to come.
Dogs, my boy, and men, are very much alike, in their hostile meetings, neither seeming to know just exactly which is truly theirmagnum bonum.
Ascending the roof of my architectural steed, Pegasus, on Tuesday, I induced the gothic animal to adopt a pace sometimes affected by the fleet tortoise, and went down to Accomac in pursuit of knowledge respecting recruiting. Just before reaching that Arcadian locality, my boy, I met Colonel Wobert Wobinson, of the Western Cavalry, who had been downthere to induce volunteering and infuse fresh confidence into the masses. He offered a bounty of two hundred dollars; three dollars to be paid immediately, and the rest as soon as the war commences in earnest; and promised to each man a horse physically incapacitated from running away from anything.
"Well, my bold dragoon," says I, cordially, noticing that Pegasus had already fallen into a peaceful doze, "how go enlistments?"
The colonel waved away an abstracted crow that was hovering in deep reverie over my charger's brow, and says he: "I have enlisted all the people of Accomac."
"I want to know," says I, Bostonianly.
"Yes," says he, "I called a meeting, and succeeded in enlisting all—their sympathies."
As I gazed upon the equestrian warrior, my boy, methought I saw the youngest offspring of a wink trembling in a corner of his right eye, and I felt that the world renowned Snyder was at that moment laboring under a heavy incubus. Such is life.
The state of health in Accomac indicates that the demon of disease is abroad in the land, looking chiefly for his victims among those between the tender ages of eighteen and forty-five. Instead of having a sling in his hand, like the young warrior David, each young man I met had his hand in a sling, whilst the dexter leg of more than one able-bodied patriot suggested the juvenile prayer of "Now I lame me, down to slip." And there were the women of America fairly crying in terror of the draft, instead of bearing themselves like the Spartan ribs of old.
Alas! my boy, why cannot our people realize, that a nation, like a cooking-stove, cannot keep up a steady fire without a good draft. We need men for the crisis, and we only find cry sisses for the men.
I could not stay here, so I hastened on to Paris, where a great strategic movement was about to supply all the world with fresh recollections of the late Napoleon. I saylateNapoleon, my boy, because our Napoleon is apt to be behind time.
As far back as I can remember, I have been fully aware that this movement was about to take place, but would not, like too many other correspondents, betray the confidence reposed in me. This bosom, my boy, this manly and truthful bosom, is about the right shop for confidence. Nor is it like the bosoms of those who can truthfully say that they nevergiveimportant information to the enemy, though every body knows that they sell it.
On arriving in Paris, I saw at once that preparations for outgeneraling the deceived Confederacy had already commenced; for the down-trodden General of the Mackerel Brigade had assembled the reliable contrabands whom he had used for some weeks past, and was taking leave of them in a heart-felt manner.
Mounted on a small keg, from the bung hole of which came the aroma of pleasant rye fields, the General softly wiped his lips, and says he:
"Being members of a race which we regard as a speshees of monkeys, my black children, the fact that this is a white man's war will prevent your taking part in the entirely different race about to come off. After the manner of Andrew Jackson at New Orleans, Ihave called upon you to do something for your adopted country; but as my friend Andrew was particular to make his proclamation read 'freenegroes,' there can be no parallel between the two cases further. Therefore, return to your masters, my children, and tell them that the United States of America wars not against them rights of which you are a part. Go! And remember, that as Gradual Emancipation is about to come off, you will soon know the juicy richness of being free to visit all parts of the world, except those not included in the pleasing map of Nova Zembla."
The contrabands departed, my boy, in blissful procession, and many of them are undoubtedly happy enough now. Happier, my boy, than they could hope to be if suffered to remain in this conservative and constitutional world.
While the Mackerels were coming out of their holes, and polishing their shovels for the march, I observed that the general walked thoughtfully to his tent, in deep silence. I found Captain Villiam Brown expelling two reporters from the lines, lest they should prematurely divulge the movement then going on to the Confederacy seated on an adjacent fence, and says I to him:
"Tell me, my fiery warrior, wherefore is it that the chieftain seeks his solitary tent?"
"Ah!" says Villiam, reverently, "it is to pray for the cause of liberty and the rights of man, after the manner of George Washington, Mount Vernon, Virginia. Come with me, my cherub," says Villiam piously, "and you shall see martial greatness in a touching aspeck."
We went softly to the tent together, my boy, and there beheld the beloved general of the Mackerel Brigade, with his face devoutly upturned. His face was devoutly upturned, my boy; but we could see something intervening between his countenance and the sky, and discovered, upon closer inspection, that it was a tumbler. Can it be, my boy, that this good man thought that Heaven, like any distant earthly object, could be brought nearer by looking toward it through a glass? Here is food for thought, my boy—here is food for thought.
And now, Commodore Head having fished his iron-clad fleet from the tempestuous bosom of Duck Lake, and everything being in readiness—the march of the Mackerel Brigade commenced, with a silence so intense that we could distinctly hear all that anybody said.
First, came a delegation of political chaps from the Sixth Ward, conversing with each other on the state of the country, and considering eight hundred and forty excellent plans for saving the Union, and getting up a straight-out ticket.
Then appeared the well-known promenade band of the Mackerel Brigade, executing divers pleasantmorceauxon his night-key bugle, an occasional stumble over a stone giving the airs a happy variety of suddenobligatiimprovements.
Next appeared the idolized General of the Mackerel Brigade, modestly refusing to receive all the credit for the skillful movement, and assuring his staff that he really would not prefer to be President of the United States in 1865.
Followed by Commodore Head, with his squadron on his shoulders, swearing as usual in his iron-plated manner, and vowing to capture Vicksburg before he was twenty years older.
Then advanced Captain Villiam Brown, Eskevire, Captain Bob Shorty, and Captain Samyule Sa-mith, each indignantly rejecting the idea that this movement was a retreat, and expressing the hope that Wendell Phillips would be immediately hung for it.
Then came a train of wagons containing all the provisions that could not be thrown away.
Succeeded by the Mackerel Brigade with shovels at a shoulder-arms, and noses suggestive of strawberry patches in the balmy month of June.
And was thisallthe procession? you will ask; did nothing come after the Brigade itself?
I am not a positive man, my boy, and care not to assert a thing unless I positively know it to be true. It was growing dark when we reached our destination, and I could not see distinctly toward the rear: yet I think Ididsee something coming after the Mackerel Brigade.
What was it?
It was the Southern Confederacy, my boy—the Southern Confederacy.
Your, excitedly,Orpheus C. Kerr.
SHOWING HOW THE COSMOPOLITANS MET AGAIN, TO BE INTRODUCED TO THE "NEUTRAL BRITISH GENTLEMAN," AND HEAR MR. BONBON'S FRENCH STORY.
SHOWING HOW THE COSMOPOLITANS MET AGAIN, TO BE INTRODUCED TO THE "NEUTRAL BRITISH GENTLEMAN," AND HEAR MR. BONBON'S FRENCH STORY.
Washington, D. C., August 25th, 1862
Ever since the British chap read all that unpublished British poetry at the Club, my boy, I have been anxious to favor him with an "Idyl," written by a friend of mine who has traveled much in Albion, and writesex-cathedra. Last night there was a fair chance, and I then introduced
THE NEUTRAL BRITISH GENTLEMAN.
Incrusted in his island home that lies beyond the sea,Behold the great original and genuine'Tis He;A paunchy, fuming Son of Beef, with double weight of chin,And eyes that were benevolent—but for their singular tendencyto turn green whenever it is remarked that hisirrepressible American cousins have made anotherTreaty with China ahead of him—and taken Albion in.This Neutral British Gentleman, one of the modern time.
Incrusted in his island home that lies beyond the sea,Behold the great original and genuine'Tis He;A paunchy, fuming Son of Beef, with double weight of chin,And eyes that were benevolent—but for their singular tendencyto turn green whenever it is remarked that hisirrepressible American cousins have made anotherTreaty with China ahead of him—and taken Albion in.This Neutral British Gentleman, one of the modern time.
With William, Duke of Normandy, his ancestors, he boasts,Came over from the shores of France to whip the Saxon hosts;And this he makes a source of pride; but wherefore there should beSuch credit to an Englishman—in the fact that he is descendedfrom a nation which England is forever pretendingto regard as slightly her inferior in everything,and particularly behind her in military and navalaffairs—we really cannot see.This Neutral British Gentleman, one of the modern time.He deals in Christianity, Episcopalian brand,And sends his missionaries forth to bully heathen land;Just mention "Slavery" to him, and with a pious sighHe'll say it's 'orrid, scandalous—although he's ready to fightfor the Cotton raised by slaves, and forgets how hebutchered the Chinese to make them take Opium,and blew the Sepoys from the guns because thepoor devils refused to be enslaved by the East IndiaCompany—or his phi-lan-thro-py.This Neutral British Gentleman, one of the modern time.He yields to Brother Jonathan a love that passeth show—"We're Hanglo-Saxons, both of us, and carn't be foes, you know."But as a Christian Englishman, he cannot, cannot hideHis horror of the spectacle—of four millions of black beingsbeing held in bondage by a nation professing thelargest liberty in the world, though in case of ananti-slavery crusade the interests of his Manchesterfactors would imperatively forbid him to—takepart on either side.This Neutral British Gentleman, one of the modern time.
With William, Duke of Normandy, his ancestors, he boasts,Came over from the shores of France to whip the Saxon hosts;And this he makes a source of pride; but wherefore there should beSuch credit to an Englishman—in the fact that he is descendedfrom a nation which England is forever pretendingto regard as slightly her inferior in everything,and particularly behind her in military and navalaffairs—we really cannot see.This Neutral British Gentleman, one of the modern time.
He deals in Christianity, Episcopalian brand,And sends his missionaries forth to bully heathen land;Just mention "Slavery" to him, and with a pious sighHe'll say it's 'orrid, scandalous—although he's ready to fightfor the Cotton raised by slaves, and forgets how hebutchered the Chinese to make them take Opium,and blew the Sepoys from the guns because thepoor devils refused to be enslaved by the East IndiaCompany—or his phi-lan-thro-py.This Neutral British Gentleman, one of the modern time.
He yields to Brother Jonathan a love that passeth show—"We're Hanglo-Saxons, both of us, and carn't be foes, you know."But as a Christian Englishman, he cannot, cannot hideHis horror of the spectacle—of four millions of black beingsbeing held in bondage by a nation professing thelargest liberty in the world, though in case of ananti-slavery crusade the interests of his Manchesterfactors would imperatively forbid him to—takepart on either side.This Neutral British Gentleman, one of the modern time.