by R. H. Newell
The expiring soldier then laid down his gun, hung his cap and overcoaton a branch of a tree, and blew his nose.
He then died.
And there I stood, my boy, on that lonely beat, looking down on thatfallen type of manhood, and thinking how singular it was he hadforgotten to give me back my quarter.
As I looked upon him there, I could not help thinking to myself, "hereis another whose home shall know him no more."
The sight and the thought so affected me, that I was obliged to turn myback on the corpse and walk a little way from it. When I returned tothe spot, the body was gone! Had it gone to Heaven? Perhaps so, myboy--perhaps so; but I hav'n't seen my quarter since.
Your own picket,
ORPHEUS C. KERR.
LETTER XIX.
NOTICING THE ARRIVAL OF A SOLID BOSTON MAN WITH AN UNPRECEDENTEDLITERARY PRIZE, AND SHOWING HOW VILLIAM BROWN WAS TRIUMPHANTLYPROMOTED.
WASHINGTON, D.C., November --, 1861.
Having just made a luscious breakfast, my boy, on some biscuitdiscovered amid the ruins of Herculaneum, and purchased expressly forthe grand army by a contracting agent for the Government, I take a sipof coffee from the very boot in which it was warmed, and hasten to penmy dispatch.
On Wednesday morning, my boy, the army here was reenforced by a veryfat man from Boston, who said he'd been used to Beacon street all thedays of his life, and considered the State House somewhat superior toSt. Peter's at Rome. He was a very fat man, my boy: eight hands high,six and a half hands thick, and his head looked like a full moonsinking in the west at five o'clock in the morning. He said he joinedthe army to fight for the Union, and cure his asthma, and ColonelWobert Wobinson thoughtfully remarked, that he thought he could greasea pretty long bayonet without feeling uncomfortable. This fat man, myboy, was leaning down to clean his boots just outside of a tent, whenthe General of the Mackerel Brigade happened to come along, and got aback view of him.
"Thunder!" says the general, stopping short; "who's been sendingartillery into camp?"
"There's no artillery here, my boy," says I.
"Well," says he, "then what's the gun-carriage doing here?"
I explained to him that what he took for a gun-carriage was a fatpatriot blacking his boots; and he said that he be dam.
Soon after the arrival of this solid Boston man, my boy, I noticed thathe always carried about with him, suspended by a strap under his rightarm, something carefully wrapped in oilskin. He was sitting with me inmy room at Willard's the other evening, and says I to him:
"What's that you hug so much, my Plymouth Rocker?"
He nervously clutched his treasure, and says he:
"It's an unpublished poem of the Honorable Edward, which I found in avery old album in Beacon street. It's an immortal and unpublishedpoem," says he, fondly taking a roll of manuscript from the oilskinwrapper,--"by the greatest and most silent statesman of the age.You'll recognize the style at once.--Listen--
"ADVICE TO A MAID.
"Perennial maiden, thou art no less fair Than those whose fairness barely equals thine; And like a cloud on Athos is thy hair, Touched with Promethean fire to make it shine Above the temple of a soul divine; And yet, methinks, it doth resemble, too, The strands Berenice 'mid the stars doth twine, As Mitchell's small Astronomy doth show; Procure the book, dear maid, when to the town you go.
"Young as thou art, thou might'st be younger still, If divers years were taken from thy life: And who shall say, if marry man you will, You may not prove some man's own wedded wife? Such things do happen in this worldly strife, If they take place--that is, if they are done; For with warm love this earthly dream is rife-- And where love shines there always is a sun-- As I remark in my Oration upon Washington.
"Supposing thou dost marry, thou wilt yearn For that which thou dost want; in fact, desire-- The wisdom shaped for older heads to learn, And well designed to tame Youth's giddy fire: The wisdom, conflicts with the world inspire, Such as, perchance, I may myself possess, Though I am but a man, as was my sire, And own not wisdom such as gods may bless; For man is naught, and naught is nothingness.
"Still, I may tell thee all that I do know, And telling that, tell all I comprehend; Since all man hath is all that he can show, And what he hath not, is not his to lend. Therefore, young maid, if you will but attend, You shall hear that which shall salute your ear; But if you list not, I my breath shall spend Upon the zephyrs wandering there and here, The far-off hearing less, perhaps, than those more near.
"Remember this: thou art thy husband's wife, And he the mortal thou art married to; Else, thou fore'er hadst led a single life, And he had never come thy heart to woo. Rememb'ring this, do thou remember, too, He is thy bridegroom, thou his chosen bride; And if unto his side thou provest true, Then thou wilt be for ever at his side; As Tacitus observes, with some degree of pride.
"See that his buttons to his shirts adhere, As Trojan Hector to the walls of Troy; And see that not, Achilles-like, appear Rents in his stocking-heels; but be your joy To have his wardrobe all your thoughts employ, Save such deep thought as may, in duty given, Suit to his tastes his dinners; nor annoy Digestion's tenor in its progress even; Then his the joy of Harvard, Boston, and high Heaven.
"If a bread-pudding thou wouldst fondly make-- A thing nutritious, but no costly meal-- Of bread that's stale a due proportion take, And soak in water warm enough to feel; Then add a strip or two of lemon-peel, With curdled milk and raisins to your taste, And stir the whole with ordinary zeal, Until the mass becomes a luscious paste. Such pudding strengthens man, and doth involve no waste.
"See thou thy husband's feet are never wet-- For wet brings cold, and colds such direful aches As old Parrhasius never felt when set On cruel racks or slow impaling stakes. Make him abstain, if sick, from griddle-cakes-- They, being rich, his stomach might derange-- And if in thin-soled shoes a walk he takes, See that his stockings he doth quickly change. Thus should thy woman's love through woman's duties range.
"And now, fair maiden, all the stars grow pale, And teeming Nature drinks the morning dews; And I must hasten to my Orient vale, And quick put on a pair of over-shoes. If from my words your woman's heart may choose To find a guidance for a future way, The Olympian impulse and the lyric muse In such approval shall accept their pay. And so, good-day, young girl--ah me! oh my! good-day.
"EDWARD EVERDEVOURED."
As the solid Boston man finished reading this useful poem, he lookedimpressively at me, and says he:
"There's domestic eloquence for you! The Honorable Edward is liberal inhis views," says he, enthusiastically, "and treats his subject withsome latitude."
"Yes," says I, thoughtfully, "but they call it Platitude, sometimes."
He didn't hear me, my boy.
It is with raptures, my boy, that I record the promotion of VilliamBrown, Company 3, Regiment 5, Mackerel Brigade, to the rank of Captain,with the privilege of spending half his time in New York, and the restof it on Broadway. Villiam left the army of the Upper Potomac to passhis examination here, and the Board of Examiners report that hereminded them of Napoleon, and made them feel sorry for the Duke ofWellington. One of the questions they asked him was:
"Suppose your company was suddenly surrounded by a regiment of theenemy, and you had a precipice in your rear, and twenty-seven hostilebatteries in front--what would you do?"
Villiam thought a moment, and then says he:
"I'd resign my commission, and write to my mother that I was cominghome to die in the spring-time."
"Sensible patriot," says the Board. "Are you familiar with the historyof General Scott?"
"You can bet on it," says V
illiam, smiling like a sagacious angel;"General Scott was born in Virginia when he was quite young, anddiscovered Scotland at an early age. He licked the British in 1812,wrote the Waverly Novels, and his son Whahae bled with Wallace. Now,old hoss, trot out your commission and let's liquor."
"Pause, fair youth," says the Board. "What makes you think that GeneralScott had a son named 'Whahae'? We never heard that before."
"Ha!" says Villiam, agreeably, "that's because you don't know poickry.Why," says Villiam, "if you'll just turn to Burns' works, you'll learnthat
"'Scot's wha' ha'e wi' Wallace bled,'
"and if that ain't good authority, where's your Shakspeare?"
The Board was so pleased with Villiam's learning, my boy, that it gavehim his commission, presented him with two gun-boats and a cannon, andrecommended him for President of the New York Historical Society.
It was rumored in camp last night, that the army would go intowinter-quarters, and I asked Colonel Wobinson if he couldn't lend me afew of the quarters in advance, as I felt like going in right away. Heexplained to me that winter-quarters would only be taken in exchangefor Treasury Notes, and I withdrew my proposition for a popular loan.
Yours, speculatively,
ORPHEUS C. KERR.
LETTER XX.
CONCERNING A SIGNIFICANT BRITISH OUTRAGE, AND THE CAPTURE OF MASON ANDSLIDELL.
WASHINGTON, D.C., November 24th, 1861.
Mr. Seward, my boy, who takes the Oath with much sugar in it, and islikewise Secretary of State, will probably write twenty-four letters toall the Governors this week, in consequence of a recent outragecommitted by Great Britain. I may remark with great indignation, thatGreat Britain is a member of one of the New York regiments, my boy, andenlisted for the express purpose of stretching his legs. He is shapedsomething like a barrel of ale, and has a chin that looks like anapple-dumpling with a stitch in its side. As I rode slowly along nearFort Corcoran, on my Gothic steed Pegasus, about an hour ago, admiringthe beauties of Nature, and smoking a pipe which was presented to me bythe Women of America, I espied Great Britain seated by the roadside,contemplating an army biscuit. These biscuit, my boy, as I stated lastweek, were discovered amid the ruins of Herculaneum, and were at firsttaken for meteoric stones.
"Good morning, old Neutrality," says I, affably, "You appear to be lostin religious meditation."
"Ah!" says he, sighing like the great behemoth of the Scriptures, "Iwas thinking of the way of the transgressor. If the hinspired writers,"says he, "thought the way of the transgressor was 'ard, I wonder whatthey'd think about this 'ere biscuit."
"You're jealous of America," says I, "and it will be the painful dutyof the Union, the Constitution, and the Enforcement of the Law tocapture Canada, if you continue your abolition harangues against thebest, the most beneficent and powerful bread in the civilized world."
"Bread!" says he, with a groan in three syllables, "do you call thisere biscuit bread? Why," says he, "this ere biscuit is Geology, and ifit were in old Hingland, it would be taken for one of the Elginmarbles, and placed in the British Museum."
I need scarcely inform you, my boy, that after this ungenerous remarkof Great Britain, I left him contemptuously, and at once proceeded toblockade a place where the Oath is furnished in every style. We haveborne with Great Britain a great while, my boy; but it is now time forus to take Canada, and wipe every vestige of British tyranny from theface of the Globe. The American eagle, my boy, flaps his dark wingsover the red-head of battle, and as his scarlet eyes rest for a momenton the English Custom House, he softly whispers--he simply remarks--hemerely ejaculates--GORE!
Americans! fellow-citizens! foreigners! and people of Boston! Shall welonger allow the bloated British aristocracy to blight us with baseabolition proclivities, while Mr. Seward is capable of holding a pen?
"Hail, blood and thunder! welcome, gentle Gore! Let the loud hewgag shatter every shore! High to the zenith let our eagle fly, Ten thousand battles blazing in his eye! Nail our proud standard to the Northern Pole, Plant patent earthquakes in each foreign hole! Shout havoc, murder, victory, and spoils, Till all creation crouches in our toils! Then, when the world to our behest is bent, And takes the _Herald_ for its punishment, We'll pin our banner to a comet's tail, And shake the Heavens with a big 'ALL HAIL!'"
That's the spirit of America, my boy, taken with nutmeg on top, and ahollow straw. Very good for invalids.
Next to the question concerning the capacity of gunboats for thesweet-potato trade, my boy, the great topic of the day is the captureof Slidell and Mason, whose arrest so pleased the colonel of theMackerel Brigade, that he got up at nine o'clock in the morning to tellthe President about it.
In the year 1776, my boy, this Slidell sold candles in New York, andwas born about two years after the marriage of the elder Slidell. Whilehe was yet a young man, he went much into female society, and at lengthoffered his hand to a lady. Her father being a male, gave his consentto the match, and on the day of the wedding, there was a fire in theSeventh Ward. Since that time, Slidell has been a married man, and wasmuch respected until he got into the Senate. I get these facts from afriend of the family, who has a set of silver spoons engraved with thename of Slidell.
The rebel Mason was born and bred in the United States, and has alwaysbeen a First Family. He says he was going to Europe on account of hishealth.
The capture of these men, my boy, cannot fail to produce a greatsensation in diplomatic circles, and I am informed by a reliablegentleman from Weehawken, that Mr. Seward is preparing a letter to LordLyons on the subject. This letter, I learn, will contain some suchpassages as this:
"I have the honor to say to your lordship, that your lordship must be aware of your lordship's important duty as a Minister to the United States, and I trust that your lordship will pay a little attention to your lordship's grammar when next your lordship addresses your lordship's most obedient servant. Your lordship will permit me to say to your lordship, that your lordship is in no way capable of interpreting the Constitution to your lordship's American friends; and I trust your lordship will not be offended when I state to your lordship, that your lordship will find nothing in the Constitution to compel your lordship to demand your lordship's passport on account of the recent capture of State prisoners from one of your lordship's government's vessels, your lordship."
I read this extract to Colonel Wobert Wobinson, of the Western Cavalry,my boy, and he said its only fault was, that it hadn't enough lordshipsin it.
"Lordships," says he, "lend an easy grace to State documents, and areas aristocratic as a rooster's tail at sunrise."
The colonel is a natural poet, my boy, and abounds in pleasingcomparisons.
The review of seventy thousand troops near Munson's Hill, on Thursday,was one of those stirring events, my boy, which we have been upon theeve of for the past year. A new cavalry company, for the MackerelBrigade, excited great attention as it went past, and I understand thePresident said that, with the exception of the horses and the men, itwas one of the finest cavalry mobs he ever saw. The horses are a newpattern; fluted sides, polished knobs on the haunches, and a hand-railall the way down the back. A rebel caught sight of one of these fineanimals, the other day, and immediately fainted. It was afterwardascertained that he owned a field of oats in the neighborhood.
Yours, variously,
ORPHEUS C. KERR.
LETTER XXI.
DESCRIBING CAPTAIN VILLIAM BROWN'S GREAT EXPEDITION TO ACCOMAC, AND ITSMARVELLOUS SUCCESS.
WASHINGTON, D.C., December 1st, 1861.
'Twas early morn, my boy. The sun rushed up the eastern sky in a stateof patriotic combustion, and as the dew fell upon the grassyhill-sides, the mountains lifted up their heads and were rather green.Far on the horizon six rainbows appeared, with an American Eagle atroost on the top one, and as the translucent pearl of the dawn shonebetween them, and a small pattern of blue sky with thirty-four starsbroke ou
t at one end, I saw--I beheld--yes, it ees! it ees! our Bangerin the Skee yi!
The reason why the heavens took such an interest in the United Statesof America was the fact, that Captain Villiam Brown, of Company 3,Regiment 5, Mackerel Brigade, was to make a Great Expedition to AccomacCounty on that morning. Twelve years was the period originallyassigned, my boy, for the preparation of this Expedition; but, when thegovernment heard that the Accomac rebels were making candles of all thefat Boston men they took prisoners, it concluded to do something duringthe present century. Villiam Brown was assigned to the command of theExpedition, and when I asked the General of the Mackerel Brigade howsuch selection happened to be made, he said that Villiam was assignedbecause there were so many signs of an ass about him.
The General is much given to classical metaphors, my boy, and ought towrite for the new American Encyclopedia.
Previous to starting, Villiam Brown called a meeting of his staff, forthe purpose of selecting such officers only who had slept with Hardee,and knew beans.
"Gentlemen," said Villiam, seating himself at a table, on which stoodthe Oath and a clean tumbler; "I wish to know which of you is thegreatest shakes in a sacred skrimmage."
A respectable leftenant stepped forward with his hand upon his boozum.
"Being a native of Philadelphia," says he, "I am naturally modest; butonly yesterday, when two rebels pitched into me, I knocked them bothover, and am here to tell the tale."
Villiam Brown gave the speaker a piercing look, my boy, and says he:
"Impostor! beware how you insult the United States of America. I fathomyour falsehood," says he, "by my knowledge of Matthew Maticks. You saythat two chivalries pitched into you, and you knocked them both over.Now Matthew Maticks distinctly says that two into one goes _no times_,and _nothing_ over. Speaker of the House, remove this leftenant to thedonjon keep. He's Ananias Number 2."