LETTER LXXVII.
SHOWING WHAT EFFECT DEMOCRATIC TRIUMPHS HAVE UPON THE PRESIDENT, NOTING OUR CORRESPONDENT'S STRANGE MISTAKE ABOUT A BRITISH FLAG, AND INDICATING THE STRAGETIC ADVANCE OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE.
WASHINGTON, D. C., November 7th, 1862.
The late election in New York, my boy, has electrified everybody exceptour Honest Abe, who still goes about smiling, like a long and amiablesexton, and continues to save our distracted country after the mannerof an honest man. On Tuesday night, a high moral Democratic chap, ofmuch watch-seal, who had just received a dispatch all about theelection, went to see the Honest Abe, for the express purpose oftelling him that the Democratic party had been born again, and was onthe point of protesting against everything whatsoever, except theConstitution of our forefathers. He found the Honest Abe cracking somewalnuts before the fire, my boy, and says he:
"The celebrated Democratic organization, of which I am AssistantEngineer, has carried the State of New York in a manner impossible toexpress, and will now proceed to demand of you a vigorous prosecutionof that unnatural strife in which are involved our lives, ourliberties, and the pursuit of happiness. We admire to see your harmlesshonesty," says the chap, blandly, "and we believe you to be a freshegg; but we protest against the arbitrary arrest of men which ispatriots, only conservatively Democratic; and we insist upon a vigorousprosecution of Constitutional hostilities against our misguidedbrothers who are now offering irregular opposition to the Government."
The Honest Abe cracked a walnut, and says he: "You say, neighbor, thatthe organization still insists upon a vigorous prosecution of the war?"
The Democratic chap sliced a toothpick from the arm of the chair withhis knife, and says he: "That is the present platform on which we are_E pluribus unum_."
"Well," says the Honest Abe, "I believe that you mean well; but amreminded of a little story.
"When I was practicing law out in Illinois," says the Honest Abe,twisting the bow of his black necktie around from under his left ear,"there was an old cock, with two sons, living near me in a tumble-downold shanty. He lived there until half his roof blew off one windynight, and then he concluded to move to a new house, where the chimneydidn't take up all the upper story. On the day when he moved, he'd gotmost all his traps changed to the other residence, and had sent one ofhis sons to see that they were all got safely indoors, when suddenly ashower commenced to come up. The old man and his other offspring, whohad stayed to hurry him, were taking up a carpet from the floor at thetime the first dose of thunder cracked, and the offspring says he,'Hurry up, old crazy-bones, or we'll be ketched in the freshet beforeyou get up this here rich fabric.' The stern parent heeded theadmonition, and went ripping away the carpet around the edges of theroom, until he came near where the offspring was standing, and there itstuck. He pulled, but it wouldn't come, and he says, says he: ''Pearsto me that dod-rotted tack must be a tenpenny nail--it holds on so.'You see, the old screw was very blind without his specs," says theHonest Abe, buttoning his vest askew, "and he couldn't see just wherethe tack was. Another peal of thunder at this moment made the irascibleoffspring still madder, and he says, says he: 'You misabul old cripple,if you don't hurry up we'll be ketched, I tell you!' As he made thisdutiful remark he went stamping to the window, and at the same momentthe cantankerous tack came out, and the aged parent went over on hisback with the carpet up to his chin. He got up and dusted, and says he:'Well, now, that _is_ cur'ous--how suddent it went.' Then he proceededto rip away again, until it came near the window, and there it stuckonce more. The wild offspring saw him tugging again, and it made him sowrathy that he says, says he: 'Why in thunder didn't you take the nailsout first, you crooked old sinner, you? It's enough to make me weepafresh for the old woman, to see how you--' But he didn't finish hisobservation; for, as he walked toward where the hammer lay, the tackcame out, and the old 'un went to bed again under the carpet. Up sprangthe sad parent, spitting rags, and he says, says he: 'Well now, howcur'ous--to think it should come so suddent!' Still on he went, untilthe carpet was all up from around the edges; but when he tried to drawit away on his shoulder, it was fast somewheres yet. R-r-rum-bum-boom!went the thunder; and says the infuriated offspring, says he: 'Well, Inever did see such a blundering old dad as you be. We'll be ketched inthe rain as sure as grasshoppers; and all because you didn't take myadvice about the hammer in the first place.' The poor old 'un tugged,and pulled, and panted, and says he: 'Well, now, it _is_ cur'ous, Iswun to massey. There can't be no tacks way out in the middle of thefloor here, can they?' To make sure, the old blind-pate was going downon his knees to take a mouse-eye view, when all of a sudden he gave astart, and he says, says he: 'Why, 'pears to me, Sammy, _you'restandin' on the carpet yourself!_' And so he was--so he was," says theHonest Abe, smiling into the fire, "and that was the why the carpet hadstuck fast in so many places."
"Now," says the Honest Abe, poking the Democratic chap in the ribs withhis knuckles; "if your organization wants me to move vigorously in thiswar, tell them not to be standing on my carpet all the time. Otherwise,I must still keep tacking about."
The Democratic chap had been slowly rising from his chair as this smallmoral tale drew toward its exciting conclusion, and at the last word hefled the apartment with quivering watch-seal.
Our President, my boy, has a tale for every emergency, as a rat-traphas an emergency for every tail.
It was on the morning of this same day, that I had a pleasingconversation on the state of our foreign relations with a phlegmaticBritish chap connected with the English Ministry, who is remaining herefor the purpose of beholding anarchy in the North, which he has beenrequested to immediately communicate to one of Great Britain's morningjournals. We were taking Richmond together at Willard's, my boy, andhad just been speaking of the English Southern pirate "Alabama" interms of neutrality, when suddenly the phlegmatic chap drew a roll ofsilk from one of his pockets, fastened it to his cane, unfurled itbefore my eyes, and says he:
"By the way, sir, 'ow do you like this ere h'original h'idea of mine?Do you see what it is?"
"Yes, friend Bifstek," says I, Frenchily, "that is indeed the BlackFlag."
The chap turned very red in the face, my boy, and says he: "The BlackFlag! what a 'orrible h'idea! You must be thinking of the h'Alabama.What h'induces you to suppose such a thing!"
"Why," says I, "there's the Skull and Crossbones plain enough."
"Skull and Crossbones!!" says he, "why, that's the beautiful Hinglishcrest--a crown and sceptres; and this is my new h'original design, yeknow, for a new Hinglish Revenue Flag."
It was then, my boy, that I discovered my error, and apologized for myobliquity of vision. It was strange, indeed, that I should mistake fora skull the insignia of royalty, even though a crown is notunfrequently found identified with a numskull.
On the same Tuesday, my boy, there was a small election in a town justthis side of Accomac, and I went down there early in the morning, tothe office of the excellent independent evening journal, that I mightsee the returns as soon as they came in. The editor was talking to twochaps--a Republican and a Democrat--and, says he:
"The organ which my humble talents keep a-going is strictlyindependent, and I have no choice of candidates. I care only for mycountry, one and individual," says the editor, touchingly, "and canmake no arbitrary discrimination of mere parties; but as you bothadvertise your tickets in my moral journal, a sense of duty may induceme to favor the side whose advertisement weighs the most."
After this gentle insinuation, my boy, each chap hastily commenced towrite his advertisement. The Republican inscribed his upon a _very_heavy piece of brown wrapping-paper to make it weighty; but theDemocrat selected a plain bit of foolscap, only putting in ahundred-dollar Treasury Note, to keep it from blotting.
When the editor came to look at the two, he coughed slightly, and sayshe: "I have always been a Democrat."
"But my advertisement ce
rtainly weighs the most," says the Republicanchap, hotly.
The editor ate a chestnut, and says he: "Not in an intellectual sense,my friend."
"My paper is twice as heavy as his," says the chap; "and as to theTreasury Note, I had some scruples--"
"There!" says the editor, interruptingly, "you tell the whole story, myfriend. In the temple of a free and reliable press, as well aselsewhere, some scruples bear very little proportion in weight to onehundredweight."
The American press, my boy, might occasionally adopt as an appropriatemotto, the present Napoleon's observation, that "_L'Empire c'est la_PAY."
Turning from intellectual matters, let me glance at our country's hopeand pride, the Mackerel Brigade, each member of whom feels confident ofultimately crushing out this hideous Rebellion as soon as nationalstrategy shall have revealed the present whereabouts of the affrightedConfederacy. Last week, my boy, the Brigade moved gorgeously fromAccomac, headed by the band, who played exciting strains upon hisnight-key bugle; and was only fired upon from the windows of waysidehouses by helpless women, against whom the United States of America donot make war.
Woman, my boy, is the most helpless of God's creatures; and is so farfrom having power to help any other being, that she even can't helpbeing herself sometimes.
The sun shone brightly down upon the spectacles of the ancientMackerels as they once more took the road toward Paris; and as thelight was reflected from the glistening glasses upon the carmine nosesof which they were astride, it seemed as though each warrior had a rosein the middle of his countenance to symbolize the beautiful idea, thatthey had all arose for their distracted country's preservation.
Captain Villiam Brown, mounted on his geometrical steed, Euclid, wasconversing affably with Captain Bob Shorty, as they rode alongtogether, when a Lieutenant of the Anatomical Cavalry came dashingtoward him, and says he:
"Captain, there's something missing from the rearguard."
Villiam assumed a thoughtful demeanor, and says he: "Is it a miss fire?"
"No," says the Lieutenant, agitatedly: "but we miss two--"
"Not baggage wagons?" says Villiam, giving such a start that Euclidnearly fell upon his knees; "don't tell me that two wagons are missing."
"Why no," says the Lieutenant, with emotion, "it's not two wagons thatwe miss, but two Brigadiers."
"Ah!" says Villiam, fanning himself with his cap. "How you alarmed me.I thought at first that it was two wagons. Let the procession go on,and I'll send for two more Brigs the next time I have a friend going toWashington."
It would please me, my boy, to detail the further movements of theMackerels, but the cause of strategy demands that I should say no moreon that topic just at present.
The beloved General of the Mackerel Brigade was at Washington when heheard of the advance which his enemies would pretend that he did notlead in person, and says he to the messenger:
"Are my gallant children ready for a fight?"
"Much so," says the messenger.
"Is the weather clear, my child?"
"Salubrious."
"Thunder!" says the General, valorously. "Then I really believe that Imust move my headquarters across the Potomac!"
The Potomac, my boy--to speak with all due reverence for sacredthings--in the numerous backs and forths it so constantly imposes uponthe military, would seem calculated to turn this war into anotherCrusade, and make all our heroes literal soldiers of the "cross."
Yours, metaphorically, OEPHEUS C. KERR.