by R. H. Newell
The officer from Philadelphia being removed to the guard-house, wherethere is weeping and wailing, and picking of teeth, another leftenantstepped forward:
"I deal in technicalities," says he, "and can post you in law."
"Ha!" says Villiam, softly sipping the Oath, "then I will try you withan abstract question, my beautiful Belvideary. Supposing Mason andSlidell were your friends, how would you work it to get them out ofFort Warren?"
"Why," said the leftenant, pleasantly, "I'd sue out a writ of HabeasJackass, and get the _New York Herald_ to advise the Government not tolet them out."
"Yes," says Villiam, meditatively, "that would be sure to do it. I'lluse you to help me get up my Proclamation."
"And now," says Villiam, dropping a lump of sugar into the Oath, andstirring it with a comb, "who is that air melancholy chap with a tallhat on, who looks like Hamlet with a panic?"
The melancholy chap came to the front, shook his long locks likeBanquo, and says he:
"I'm the Press. I'm the Palladium of our Liberties--
"'Here shall the Press the People's rights maintain, Unawed by affluence and inspired by gain.'
"I'm the best advertising medium in the country, and have reptilecotemporaries. I won't be suppressed. No, sir!--no, sir!--I refuse tobe suppressed."
"You're a giant intellek," says Villiam, looking at him through thebottom of a tumbler; "but I can't stand the press. Speaker of theHouse, remove him to the bath and send for a barber. Now, gentlemen, Iwill say a few words to the troops, and then we will march according toHardee."
The section of the Mackerel Brigade being mustered in line against arail fence, my boy, Captain Villiam Brown shut one eye, balancedhimself on one foot, and thus addressed them.
"FELLOW-SOLDATS! (which is French.) It was originally intended to present you with a stand of colors; but the fellow-citizen who was to present it has only got as far as the hundred and fifty-second page of the few remarks he intended to make on the occasion, and it is a military necessity not to wait for him. (See Scott's Tactics, Vol. III., pp. 24.) I have but few words to say, and these are them: Should any of you happen to be killed in the coming battle, let me implore you to _Die without a groan_. It sounds better in history, as well as in the great, heart-stirring romances of the weekly palladiums of freedom. How well it reads, that 'Private Muggins received a shot in the neck and _died without a groan_.' Soldats! bullets have been known to pass clean through the thickest trees, and so I may be shot myself. Should such a calamity befall our distracted country, I shall _die without a groan_, even though I am a grown person. Therefore, fear nothing. The eyes of the whole civilized world are upon you, and History and Domestic Romance expect to write that you _died without a groan_."
At the conclusion of this touching and appropriate speech, my boy, allthe men exclaimed: "We will!" except a young person from New York, whosaid that he'd rather "Groan without a die;" for which he was sentencedto read Seward's next letter.
The Army being formed into a Great Quadrilateral (See Raymond'sTactics), moved forward at a double-quick, and reached Accomac just asthe impatient sun was rushing down. With the exception of a mule, theonly Virginian to be seen was a solitary Chivalry, who had strainedhimself trying to raise some interest from a Confederate Treasury Note,and couldn't get away.
Observing that only one man was in sight, Captain Villiam Brown, whohad stopped to tie his shoe behind a large tree on the left, made aflank movement on the Chivalry.
"Is these the borders of Accomac?" says he, pleasantly.
"Why!" says the Chivalry, giving a start, "you must be Lord Lyons."
"What makes you think that?" asked Villiam.
"Oh, nothing--only your grammar," says Chivalry.
This made Villiam very mad, my boy, and he ordered the bombardment tobe commenced immediately; but as all the powder had been placed onboard a vessel which could not arrive under two weeks, it wasdetermined to take possession without combustion. Finding himselfmaster of the situation, Captain Villiam Brown called the solitaryChivalry to him, and issued the following
PROCLAMATION.
CITIZEN OF ACCOMAC! I come among you not as a incendiary and assassin, but to heal your wounds and be your long-lost father. Several of the happiest months in my life were not spent in Accomac, and your affecting hospitality will make me more than jealously-watchful of your liberties and the pursuit of happiness. (See the Constitution.)
Citizen of Accomac! These brave men, of whom I am a spectator, are not your enemies; they are your brothers, and desire to embrace you in fraternal bonds. They wish to be considered your guests, and respectfully invite you to observe the banner of our common forefathers. In proof whereof I establish the following orders:
I.--If any nigger come within the lines of the United States Army to give information, whatsomever, of the movements of the enemy, the aforesaid shall have his head knocked off, and be returned to his lawful owner, according to the groceries and provisions of the Fugitive Slave Ack. (See the Constitution.)
II.--If any chicken or other defenceless object belonging to the South, be brought within the lines of the United States Army, by any nigger, his heirs, administrators, and assigns, the aforesaid shall have his tail cut off, and be sent back to his rightful owner at the expense of the Treasury Department.
III.--Any soldier found guilty of shooting the Southern Confederacy, or bothering him in any manner whatsomever, the same shall be deemed guilty of disorderly conduct, and be pronounced an accursed abolitionist.
VILLIAM BROWN, Eskevire, Captain Conic Section, Mackerel Brigade, Commanding Accomac.
The citizen of Accomac, my boy, received this proclamation favorably,and said he wouldn't go hunting Union pickets until the weather waswarmer. Whereupon Villiam Brown fell upon his neck and wept copiously.
The Union Army, my boy, now holds undisputed possession of over sixinches of the sacred soil of Accomac, and this unnatural rebellion hasreceived a blow which shakes the rotten fabric to its shivering centre.The strong arm of the Government has at last reached the stronghold oftreason, and in a few years this decisive movement on Accomac will befollowed by the advance of our army on the Potomac.
Yours, with expedition,
ORPHEUS C. KERR.
LETTER XXII.
TREATING OF VILLIAM'S OCCUPATION OF ACCOMAC, AND HIS WISE DECISION IN ACONTRABAND CASE.
WASHINGTON, D.C., December 16th, 1861.
After sleeping with Congress for two days, my boy, and observing fourstatesmen and a small page driven to the verge of apoplexy by theexciting tale called the President's Message, I thought it was abouttime to mingle with the world again, and sent my servant, Percy deMortimer, to bring me my gothic steed Pegasus. After a long search inthe fields after that chaste architectural animal, my boy, he met aMissouri picket chap, and says he:
"Hev you seen a horse hereabout, my whisky-doodle?"
"Hoss!" says Missouri, spitting with exquisite precision on one of DeMortimer's new boots. "No, I aint seen no hoss, my Fejee bruiser; butthere's an all-fired big crow-roost down in that corner, I reckon; andit must be alive, for I heard the bones rattle when the wind blew."
My _valet_, Mr. De Mortimer, paid no heed to his satirical lowness, myboy, but proceeded majestically to where my gothic beast was eating theremains of a straw mattress. Brushing a few crows from the backbone ofthe fond charger, upon which they were innocently roosting, he placedthe saddle amidships, and conducted the fiery stallion to my hotel.
Mounting in hot haste, I was about to start for Accomac, when theGeneral of the Mackerel Brigade came down the steps in hot haste, andsays he:
"Is the Army of the Potomac about to advance?"
"Why do you ask?" says I.
"Thunder!" says he, "I've been so long in one spot that I was going toget out my naturalization papers as a citizen of Arlington He
ights.Ah!" says he, with a groan, "when the advance takes place I shall betoo old to enjoy it."
I asked him why he didn't make arrangements to have his grandson takehis place, if he should become superanuated before the advance tookplace; and he said that he be dam.
On reaching Accomac, my boy, I found the Conic Section of the MackerelBrigade reconnoitering in force after a pullet they had seen the nightbefore. Which they couldn't catch it.
Captain Villiam Brown, my boy, has his head quarters in a house withthe attic and cellar on the same floor. I found two fat pickets playingpoker on the roof, six first class pickets doing up Old Sledge on therail-fence in front of the door, and eight consumptive pickets eating arooster belonging to the Southern Confederacy on the roof of a pig-pen.
As I entered the airy and commodious apartment of the commander-inchief, I beheld a sight to make the muses stare like the behemoth ofthe Scriptures, and cause genius to take another nip of old rye. Therewas the cantankerous captain, my boy, seated on a keg of gunpowder,with his head laid sideways on a table; one hand grasping a bottle halffull of the Oath, and the other writing something on a piece of paperlaid at right angles with his nose.
"Hallo, my interesting infant," says I, "are you drawing a map ofPensacola for an enlightened press?"
"Ha!" says Villiam, starting up, and eyeing me closely through thebottom of a bottle, "you behold me in the agonies of composition. Readthis poickry," says he, "and if it aint double X with the foam off,where's your Milton?"
I took the paper, my boy, which resembled a specimen-card of deadflies, and read this poem:
"The God of Bottles be our aid, When rebels crack us; We'll bend the bottle-neck to him, And he will Bacchus.
"By Capt. VILLIAM BROWN, Eskevire."
I told Villiam that everything but the words of his poem reminded me ofLongfellow, and says he:
"Don't mention my undoubted genius in public; because if Seward knewthat I wrote poickry, he'd think I wanted to be President in 1865, andhe'd get the Honest Old Abe to remove me. I think," says Villiam,abstractedly, "that the Honest Old Abe is like a big bumble bee withhis tail cut off, when his Cabinet comes humming around him."
Villiam once stirred up the monkeys in a menagerie, my boy, and hismetaphors from Natural History are chaste.
At this moment a file of the Mackerel Brigade came in, bringing a sonof Africa, who looked like a bottle of black ink wrapt up in a dirtytowel, and a citizen of Accomac, who claimed him as his slave.
"Captain," says the citizen of Accomac, "this nigger belongs to me, andI want him back. Besides, he stole a looking-glass from me, and has gotit hid somewheres."
Villiam smiled like a pleased clam, and says he: "You say he stole alooking-glass?"
"I reckon," says Accomac.
"Prisonier!" says Villiam, to the Ethiop, "did you ever see the devil?"
"Nebber, sar, since missus died."
"Citizen of Accomac," says Villiam, sternly, "you have told a whopper;and I shall keep this child of oppression to black the boots of theUnited States of America. You say he stole a looking-glass. He says hehas never seen the devil. Observe now," says Villiam, argumentatively,"how plain it is, that if he _had_ even _looked_ at your looking-glass,he _must_ have seen the devil about the same time."
The citizen of Accomac saw that his falsehood was discovered, my boy,and returned to the bosom of his family cursing like a rifled parson.Villiam then adjourned the court for a week, and sent the contrabandout to enjoy the blessings of freedom, digging trenches.
It is pleasing, my boy, to see our commanders dispensing justice inthis manner; and I don't wonder at the President's wanting to abolishthe Supreme Court.
Yours, judicially,
ORPHEUS C. KERR.
LETTER XXIII.
CONCERNING BRITISH NEUTRALITY AND ITS COSMOPOLITAN EFFECTS, WITH SOMEACCOUNT OF HOW CAPTAIN BOB SHORTY LOST HIS COMPANY.
WASHINGTON, D.C., December 20th, 1861.
When Britain first, at Napoleon's command, my boy, arose from out theazure main, this was her charter, her charter of the land, thatBritains never, never, never shall be slaves as long as they have achance to treat everybody else like niggers. Suffer me also to remark,that, Britannia needs no bulwarks, no towers along the steep; her marchis o'er the mountain wave, her home is on the deep--where she keeps upher neutrality by smuggling contraband Southern confederacies, andswearing like a hard-shell chaplain when Uncle Sam's ocean picketsoverhaul her.
Albion's neutrality is waking up a savage spirit in the United Statesof America, as you will understand from the following Irish Idle whichwas written
PRO PAT-RIA.
Two Irishmen out of employ, And out at the elbows as aisily, Adrift in a grocery-store Were smoking and taking it lazily. The one was a broth of a boy, Whose cheek-bones turned out and turned in again, His name it was Paddy O'Toole-- The other was Misther McFinnigan.
"I think of enlistin'," says Pat, "Because do you see what o'clock it is; There's nothin' adoin' at all But drinkin' at Mrs. O'Docharty's. It's not until after the war That business times will begin again, And fightin's the duty of all"-- "You're right, sir," says Misther McFinnigan.
"Bad luck to the rebels, I say, For kickin' up all of this bobbery, They call themselves gintlemen, too, While practin' murder and robbery; Now if it's gintale for to steal, And take all your creditors in again, I'm glad I'm no gintleman born"-- "You're right, sir," says Misther McFinnigan.
"The spalpeens make bould to remark Their chivalry couldn't be ruled by us; And by the same token I think They're never too smart to be fooled by us. Now if it's the nagurs they mane Be chivalry, then it's a sin again To fight for a cause that is black"-- "You're right, sir," says Misther McFinnigan.
"A nagur's a man, ye may say, And aiqual to all other Southerners; But chivalry's made him a brute, And so he's a monkey to Northerners; Sure, look at the poor cratur's heels, And look at his singular shin again; It's not for such gintlemen fight"-- "You're right, sir," says Misther McFinnigan.
"The nagur States wanted a row, And now, be me sowl, but they've got in it! They've chosen a bed that is hard, However they shtrive for to cotton it. I'm thinkin', when winter comes on They'll all be inclined to come in again; But then we must bate them at first"-- "You're right, sir," says Misther McFinnigan.
"Och hone! but it's hard that a swate Good-lookin' young chap like myself indade, Should loose his ten shillins a day Because of the throuble the South has made: But that's just the raison, ye see, Why I should help Union to win again It's that will bring wages once more"-- "You're right, sir," says Misther McFinnigan.
"Joost mind what ould England's about, A sendin' her throops into Canaday; And all her ould ships on the coast Are ripe for some treachery any day. Now if she should mix in the war-- Be jabers! it makes me head spin again! _Ould Ireland would have such a chance!_"-- "You're right, sir," says Misther McFinnigan.
"You talk about Irishmen, now, Enlistin' by thousands from loyalty; But _wait till the Phoenix Brigade Is called to put down British Royalty_! It's then with the Stars and the Stripes All Irishmen here would go in again, To strike for the Shamrock and Harp!"-- "You're right, sir," says Misther McFinnigan.
"Och, murther! me blood's in a blaze, To think of bould Corcoran leading us Right into the camp of the bastes Whose leeches so long have been bleeding us! The Stars and the Stripes here at home To Canada's walls we would pin again, And wouldn't we raise them in Cork?"-- "You're right, sir," says Misther McFinnigan.
"And down at the South, do ye mind, There's plinty of Irishmen mustering, Deluded to fight for the wrong By rebel mis-statements and blustering; But once let ould England, their fo
e, To fight with the Union begin again, And sure, they'd desert to a man!"-- "You're right, sir," says Misther McFinnigan.
"There's niver an Irishmen born, From Maine to the end of Secessiondom. But longs for a time and a chance To fight for this country in Hessian-dom; And so, if ould England should try With treacherous friendship to sin again, They'll all be on one side at once"-- "You're right, sir," says Misther McFinnigan.
"We've brothers in Canada, too-- (And didn't the Prince have a taste of them?)-- To say that to Ireland they're true Is certainly saying the laste of them. If, bearing our flag at our head, We rose Ireland's freedom to win again, They'd murther John Bull in the rear!"-- "You're right, sir," says Misther McFinnigan.
"Hurroo! for the Union, me boys, And divil take all who would bother it, Secession's a nagur so black The divil himself ought to father it; Hurroo! for the bould 69th, That's prisintly bound to go in again; It's Corcoran's rescue they're at"-- "You're right, sir," says Misther McFinnigan.
"I'm off right away to enlist, And sure won't the bounty be handy-O! To kape me respectably dressed And furnish me dudheens and brandy-O! I'm thinkin', me excellent friend, Ye're eyeing that bottle of gin again; You wouldn't mind thryin' a drop"-- "You're _right_, sir," says Misther McFinnigan.