LETTER XCVIII.
RECOUNTING A CHASTE "RECONSTRUCTION" ANECDOTE OF THE SIXTH WARD, AND DIVULGING CAPTAIN VILLIAM BROWN'S INGENIOUS ALPHABETICAL EXPERIMENT WITH COMPANY THREE.
WASHINGTON, D.C., Sept. 25th, 1863.
It is a high-moral idea of poets, congressmen, and the writers for ourimproving weekly journals of exciting romance, my boy, that it is anoble and majestic thing to feel warmly for one's country; but when thethermometer stands at 90 in the shade, and we join with ourfellow-beings in shedding tears from the tops of our foreheads, I findmy disinterested patriotism fully equal to the self-abnegation of theremark, that I had rather be cool than be President. Our brethren arealready in the field; why stand we here idle? Is ice so dear, or peaceso sweet as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbidit, Almighty Dollars! I know not what other gentlemen would have; butas for me, give me liberty, or give me a fan. Thus, my boy, after themanner of the departed Patrick Henry, did I expose myself to theconservative Kentucky chap, as we stood panting together in thevestibule of the Treasury Buildings the other day; and says he:
"The loyal State of Kentucky, of which I am a part, has no objectionsto warm weather in the summer-time; provided it is not indorsed by thefanatical Black Republicans. Warm weather," says the conservativeKentucky chap, thoughtfully, "is of much service to the old rye crop ofKentucky; but Kentucky would forego even her old rye, rather than seeretarded the movements of that army whose constitutional duty it is torestore the Union--not reconstruct it."
The regular list of dead idiots for this year being not quite full yet,my boy, there are still persons living who can perceive no very immensedifference between Restoring the Union and Reconstructing the Union;which reminds me of a chaste little incident that once occurred in theSixth Ward.
A highly-respectable liquor-selling chap, of enlarged stomach andoverwhelming shirt-collar, having just been elected Alderman, throughthe influence of his excellent moral character, and about two thousanddollars judiciously invested in Irishmen, gave a fashionable party tocelebrate this triumph of the purity of elections, and invited abouttwo-thirds of the Fire Department to bring their wives and sweethearts.Promptly at nine o'clock, two Hose Companies, of unblemishedreputations for noise, four Engine Associations noted for saving onepine table from the devouring element to every two Brussels carpetsthey ruined with water, three Hook-and-Ladder Societies greatlydistinguished for climbing into the third-story windows of the buildingtwo doors from the burning domicil, and an equivalent number of thecotton-hearted women of America, were on hand in the aldermanicdrawing-rooms. The new public dignitary received them all with thatexquisite blandness of demeanor which is so becoming to great men whohave just made a rush from obscurity: and says he,--
"Make yourselves at home now, boys, only don't spit on the carpet. Ifthere's a fire while the swarry is goin' on, I'll let the old womanlisten for the district and announce it from the airy. We'll keep thewinders up, and when the hall-bell rings, you fellers as has to leave,can just slip down onto the front stoop without breaking up the entireswarry."
Here the large-hearted aldermanic chap was called hastily downstairs toattend the bar, several army officers having just arrived in the ward,and the "swarry" commenced as merrily as a fire in a carpenter's shop.It set in for a heavy dance at about eleven o'clock, and then were seenas many elaborate verses in the poetry of motion, as any pair of eyescould wish to enjoy. "Fifty's" foreman, who danced with a very prettydotted muslin, produced a very striking and picturesque effect byrolling his inexpressibles up over his boots, and giving a life-likeimitation of the working of an engine with his heels and toes;whereupon the assistant foreman of "Thirty's Truck" suddenly threw offhis dress-coat and appeared in full red shirt, simultaneously strikinginto a fine, artistic shuffle, intended to imitate the hauling-in andreeling-up of the wet hose after a conflagration. These and othergraceful novelties were greatly admired by the ladies, each of whomsaid so many spicy and spiteful things about the other's bare arms andforward manners, that a stranger might have taken them all for the verycream of Fifth Avenue or any other Best Society.
It was about midnight when "Fifty's" foreman, growing reckless with thepassionate splendors of excitement, scuffled away with his flusheddotted muslin to a luxurious chintz sofa near one of the windows, andintemperately whispered in her ear, "Miss Perkins, it were madness forme longer to conceal my insanity, and to remain silent would but renderme speechless. Here let me lay my heart and trumpet at your feet,and"--
She had fainted! Ay, sir, swooned!
Instantly the whole brilliant saloon was in confusion; the dancingceased, the dust commenced to settle, and the assistant foreman of"Thirty's Truck" was seen to put on his coat.
"Bring your hose here, quick, and play on her face!" shouted "Fifty's"foreman, half-crazed by what he had done. But the dotted muslin'smother now clutched her in her arms, and says she, "Let's get her intothe dressing-chamber, and somebody bring a little sally wolatile."
Here another dowager seized an arm of the fainting girl, and the twobore her tenderly into the retiring-room, followed by some two or threesympathizing young ladies. And now, my boy, it becomes my delicate dutyto hastily sketch a scene which the masculine pen cannot too carefullytouch upon. It being one of the principles of woman's nature that somerelaxations must be admitted in her toilet before she can revive fromsyncope, the second dowager commenced to relieve the fainting fair oneof such articles of fashionable addenda as might retard her recovery.She took off her side-curls and back-hair and laid them upon a table;with great care she removed her upper teeth and placed them upon achair; softly wetting a corner of her handkerchief in her mouth sheeffectually wiped away the eyebrows and a part of the cheek of theyoung sufferer; and she was proceeding to make other dissections whichI shall dismiss with the remark that they are merely matters of form,when the patient gave a gentle sigh as she rested in her mother's arms,and says the mother to the dowager:--
"There, Mrs. Jobbins, I guess you needn't do any more." Mrs. Jobbinsgave a sagacious look at the patient, and says she:
"Very true, mem; she is getting better. It wont take us many minutes toreconstruct her."
"I beg your parding, Mrs. Jobbins," says the maternal, shaking hercap,--"I beg your parding Mrs. Jobbins; but your language isineddicated, highly; you should say 'restore' her."
Mrs. Jobbins straightened herself up, with a glare, and says she:"Perhaps, mem, you can teach _me_ eddication, and my own daughter ateacher these two years in the public schools! The ideor! I repeatit--to reconstruct her--put her together again."
"Restore," says the maternal, savagely.
"Reconstruct!" screamed Mrs. Jobbins.
"You're a artful, ignorant old copperhead!" howled the maternal,dropping her daughter's head upon the floor.
"And you're a spiteful, stuck-up, toothless old--ab'litionist!!" yelledthe dowager, stamping until her snuff-box hopped out of her pocket.
Drawn to the room by the noise, a hard old nut, a retired foreman ofold "Sixty," stuck his head in at the door, and says he: "What are youold fools scrimmaging about? You're keeping the swarry back."
Both the old ladies made at him at once to know which, in his opinion,was the right word,--'Reconstruct,' or 'Restore?'
The old nut took a thoughtful bite of tobacco, and says he: "Let thegirl herself tell you when she _revives_."
Revive was the word, my boy; and while the old women were quarrellingover the two terms aforesaid, poor nature got tired of waiting, andrealized the right one in action for herself. The girl revived withoutbeing either restored, or reconstructed.
And thus, my boy, I sometimes think, that, whilst noisy old politicalgrannies are quarrelling as to whether the Union shall be Restored, orReconstructed, the fainting young Union will suddenly revive of itself.At any rate, it bids fair to have plenty of time to do so.
In a recent letter I noted the return of the main body of theinvincible and time-honored Mackerel Brigade to what
may be termed theplace of its military birth; but I did not, nor can I, describe justlythe many touching incidents of the retrogression. Once more, my boy,does this standard national martial organization find itself on theright side of Awlkuyet River, and many a sensitive Mackerel, as hegazes through his tear-dimmed spectacles upon the surrounding sceneryof his youth, fancies himself a boy again, and newly experiences in allhis muscles that tingling sensation which, in the full-blooded lad,equally follows a public compliment and a private flogging. As the goryand venerable Brigade wound slowly back into the well-known fieldsrendered historically famous for making Washington safe, one veryancient Mackerel grounded his musket by the roadside, took off hisspectacles, looked with deep emotion upon the scenes of his earlyyears, and says he to another Mackerel:--
"Thank Heaven! we have at last reached the end of the war."
The other Mackerel paused in his work of cracking an army biscuitbetween two rocks, and says he: "Which end do you mean, Sammy?"
"Why," says Sammy, "the end we commenced at."
Could it be possible, my boy, that there was a serious and profoundtruth in that unconsidered Mackerel remark? If so, we are indeedapproaching the beginning of the war, and there is rather less of Marsthan of Grand-Ma's in the management of the Virginia campaign.
But why should my pen linger upon this monotonous theme, when the grimFort Piano on Duck Lake, and the ancient city of Paris on the nethershore thereof, are being besieged on all sides by the Mackereliron-plated patent squadron under the hoary Rear Admiral Head, and theMackerel contingent and Orange County Howitzers under Captains SamyuleSa-mith and Villiam Brown. Several times, my boy, has Fort Piano beenentirely destroyed and taken by all our excellent and reliable morningjournals, the columns of American newspapers being led on tovictory--or leaded on to victory--with rather more ease than a dozentimes as many columns of any troops in the world; but, inasmuch as theunseemly but well-known Southern Confederacy still keeps store there,it has been deemed proper to make another iron-clad experiment in thatsalubrious vicinity. This time, however, the army takes part in theeffort, as well as the navy, and Captain Samyule Sa-mith, with theOrange County Howitzers, bombards the atmosphere from the banks of theLake, whilst the aged Rear Admiral Head, with his iron-plated squadron,performs fiery antics upon the briny element.
The sailing of the squadron inside the bar was a beautiful sight, andwas witnessed by a couple of English and French consuls who had comedown to the banks of Duck Lake to see if they could recognize theConfederacy at that distance. First advanced Rear Admiral Head'sflagship monitor, the "Shockingbadhat;" followed in close order by the"Aitch," the "Yew," the "Em," the "Bee," the "You" and the "Gee."
And now, my boy, you may probably imagine that I am about to relate,with Homeric fervor and the graphic eloquence of Tacitus, how theMackerel Squadron poured whole foundries of shot and shell into FortPiano; and how the Orange County Howitzers rained Greek Fire (Irishwhiskey) into all the basement windows of Paris; but I have variousreasons for doing nothing of the kind, inasmuch as the War Departmentdoes not desire that the enemy should be prematurely informed of thecapture of the Fort and City. Suffice it to say, that everything isprogressing favorably, though recent heavy rains have greatlyincommoded such of the land forces as are not supplied with umbrellas.
I think, however, my boy, that I may venture to describe CaptainVilliam Brown's alphabetical experiment with Company 3, Regiment 5,which constitutes the present Mackerel reserve on the edge of the Lake.Villiam having heard of Jeff. Davis's experiment with his regiment inMexico, when he formed it into a V shape to receive a cavalry charge,resolved to give his regiment that shape for the purpose of aroundabout sally upon Fort Piano from the rear, or land side.
"Comrades," says Villiam, impressively, "V stands for Victory,Vengeance and Vashington, and I desire you to take its shape."
The Mackerels formed themselves into a V, my boy; but when Villiamgallantly retired behind a tree to be out of the way, and gave theorder "Forward--double-quick,--march!" Sergeant O'Pake modestly stoodout of the ranks, and says he:
"Of course _you_ will go ahead of us, Captain?"
"Ha!" says Villiam, haughtily, "why?"
"Oh!" says the sergeant, "V., you know, always follows U."
Villiam was lost in thought for a moment, my boy, and then says he:"That's true, Sergeant; and as U never comes until after T, we'll deferthat ere charge for the present."
Incidents of this kind are but common in this war between brethren,which is so abhorrent to Democrats and the high-moral members of thechurch.
Hoping, my boy, that, by relating the success of Rear Admiral Head andCaptain Samyule Sa-mith in my next, I may add two more illustriousnames to the list of candidates for the Presidency in 1865, I remain,
Yours, electorally,
ORPHEUS C. KERR.