The Orpheus C. Kerr Papers, Series 2

  LETTER LV.

  SETTING FORTH A NEW VILLAINY OF THE INSIDIOUS BLACK REPUBLICANS, AND DESCRIBING THE THRILLING CONSTITUTIONAL BATTLE OF DUCK LAKE.

  WASHINGTON, D. C., July 12th, 1862.

  Owing to the persistent stupidity of Congress and thehideously-treasonable machinations of the unscrupulous blackrepublicans, my boy, the weather still continues very hot; and unlessthe thermometer falls very soon, an exhausted populace will demand animmediate change in the Cabinet. I am very warm, my boy--I am verywarm; and when I reflect upon the agency of the abolitionists, who havebrought this sort of thing about for the express purpose of injuring myConstitution, I am impelled to ask myself: Did our revolutionaryforefathers indeed expire in vain? O my country! my country! it is verywarm.

  Such weather, my boy, is particularly trying to Sergeant O'Pake'sfriend,

  THE IRISH PICKET.

  I'm shtanding in the mud, Biddy, With not a spalpeen near, And silence, spaichless as the grave, Is all the sound I hear. Me gun is at a showlder arms, I'm wetted to the bone, And whin I'm afther shpakin' out, I find meself alone.

  This Southern climate's quare, Biddy, A quare and bastely thing, Wid Winter absint all the year, And Summer in the Spring. Ye mind the hot place down below? And may ye niver fear I'd dhraw comparisons--but then It's awful warrum here.

  The only moon I see, Biddy, Is one shmall star, asthore, And that's fornint the very cloud It was behind before; The watchfires glame along the hill That's swellin' to the south, And whin the sentry passes them I see his oogly mouth.

  It's dead for shlape I am, Biddy, And dramein shwate I'd be, If them ould rebels over there Would only lave me free; But when I lane against a shtump And shtrive to get repose, A musket ball he's comin' shtraight To hit me spacious nose.

  It's ye I'd like to see, Biddy, A shparkin' here wid me And then, avourneen, hear ye say, "Acushla--Pat--machree!" "Och, Biddy darlint," then says I, Says you, "get out of that;" Says I, "me arrum mates your waist," Says you, "be daycent, Pat."

  And how's the pigs and ducks, Biddy? It's them I think of, shure, That looked so innocent and shwate Upon the parlor flure; I'm shure ye're aisy with the pig That's fat as he can be, And fade him wid the best, because I'm towld he looks like me.

  Whin I come home again, Biddy, A sargent tried and thrue, It's joost a daycent house I'll build And rint it chape to you. We'll have a parlor, bedroom, hall, A duck-pond nately done, With kitchen, pig-pen, praty-patch, And garret--all in one

  But, murther! there's a baste, Biddy, That's crapin' round a tree, And well I know the crature's there To have a shot at me. Now, Misther Rebel, say yere prayers, And howld yer dirthy paw, Here goes!--be jabers, Biddy dear, I've broke his oogly jaw!

  I was talking some moments ago with a Regimental Surgeon, who has morepatients on a monument than Shakspere ever dreamed about, and says he:"In consequence of the great number of troops now about this city, allthe oxygen in the atmosphere is exhausted, and we are very warm. Hadall these troops been sent to McClellan two weeks ago," says he, usinghis lancet to pick a dead fly out of his tumbler, "we might be able tokeep cool now. There is a terrible responsibility on somebody'sshoulders."

  That's very true, my boy, and it's very warm.

  There was a panic this morning in financial circles, owing to thefrantic conduct of a gambling chap from the Senate, who has been savingup money to bet on the fall of Richmond, and was trying to put it outat interest. "I'll take seven per cent. for it the first year," sayshe, anxiously, "and leave it standing until national strategy comes toa head."

  A broker took it for five years, my boy, with the privilege ofextending the time after each fresh victory.

  Speaking of victories, my boy, I was present at the recent series oftriumphs by the Mackerel Brigade, on the left shore of Duck Lake, andwitnessed a succession of feats calculated to culminate either in thefall of Richmond or the fall of the year.

  From the head-quarters in the city of Paris to the brink of Duck Lake,the Mackerels were drawn up in gorgeous line of battle, their bayonetsresembling somewhat an uncombed head of steel hair, and their noseslooking like a wavy strip of summer sunset. By their last greatstragetical manoeuvre, they had lured the Southern Confederacy to courtits own destruction by flanking them at both ends of the line, and theywere only waiting for the master-mind to give them the signal.

  Samyule Sa-mith advanced from this place in the staff as I rode up, andsays he:

  "Comrades, the General depends on you to precede him to glory. We hadhoped," says Samyule, feelingly, "to have the company of two Frenchcounts in this day's slaughter; but those two noble Gauls had not timeto wait, as they desired to visit the Great Exhibition in London."

  These remarks were well received, my boy; and when the order was givenfor Company 3, Regiment 5, to detour to the left, it would have beenpromptly obeyed but for an unforeseen incident. Just as Captain VilliamBrown was about to break line for the purpose, an aged chap camedashing down from a First Family country-seat near by, and says he tothe General of the Mackerel Brigade:

  "I demand a guard for my premises immediately. My wife," says he, withdignity, "has just been making a custard-pie for the sick Confederaciesin the hospital, and as she has just set it out to cool near where mylittle boy shot one of your vandals this morning, she is afraid itmight be taken by your thieving mudsills when they came after the body.I, therefore, demand a guard for my premises, in the name of theConstitution of our forefathers."

  Here Captain Bob Shorty stepped forward, and says he:

  "What does the Constitution say about custard pie, Mr. Davis?"

  The aged chap spat at him, and says he:

  "I claim protection under that clause which refers to the pursuit ofhappiness. Custard pies," says he, reasoningly, "are included in thepursuit of happiness."

  "That's very true," says the General, looking kindly over his fan atthe venerable petitioner. "Let a guard be detailed to protect this goodold man's premises. We are fighting _for_ the Constitution, not againstit."

  A guard was detailed, my boy, with orders to make no resistance if theywere fired upon occasionally from the windows of the house; and thenCaptain Villiam Brown pushed forward with what was left of Company 3,to engage the Confederacy on the edge of Duck Lake, supported by theOrange County Howitzers. Headed by the band, who played patriotic airsas soon as he could shake the crumbs out of his key-bugle, thecavalcade advanced to the edge of the lake and opened a heavy salute ofround shot and musketry on the atmosphere, whilst Commodore Head keptup a hot fire at the horizon with his iron-plated fleet and swivel gun.

  Only waiting to finish a game of base ball, in which they had beenengaged, four regiments of Confederacies, at whom this deadly assaultwas directed, threw aside their bats and ball dresses, put on theiruniforms, loaded their muskets and batteries, and sent an iron showerin all directions. Greatly demoralized by this unseemly occurrence, afile of Mackerels under Sergeant O'Pake immediately threw down theirmuskets and knapsacks, emptied their pockets upon the ground, piledtheir neckties in a heap, and were making a rapid retrograde movement,when Villiam suddenly threw himself in their path, and says he:

  "Where are you going to, my fearless eaglets?"

  "Hem!" says the sergeant, with much French in his manner, "we thoughtof visiting the Great Exhibition in London."

  "Ah!" says Villiam, understandingly, "you have acquired French in oneeasy lesson, and--"

  Here an orderly rode up with an order for the Mackerels to fall backfrom the edge of the Lake immediately, leaving their artillery,bayonets, havelocks, and baggage behind them; and Villiam was obligedto conduct the movement, which was a part of the strategical scheme ofthe General of the Mackerel Brigade. As we retreated back into Paris,my boy, we were joined by the Conic Section, and shortly after by theAnatomical
Cavalry, both of which had succeeded in leaving all theiraccoutrements on the field.

  As we all rushed together before head-quarters in perfect order, andwhile the Confederacy was eating some provisions, which we hadrefrained from bringing off the late scene of conflict, the General ofthe Mackerel Brigade came from under a tree, where he had been tanninghimself, and says he:

  "My children, we have whipped them at all points, and the day is ours."

  "Ah!" says Villiam, abstractedly, "the day is hours."

  "My children," says the General, in continuation, "we have pushed theenemy to the wall without fracturing the Constitution, and have onlyput the war back six months. We can say with pride, my children, thatwe belong to the Army of Duck Lake, and shall have no more Bull Runs.My children, I love you. Accept my blessing."

  We were reflecting upon this soul-stirring speech, my boy, and silentlyadmiring the strategy which had brought us all together again so soon,when the sound of drum and fife called our attention to a club ofpolitical chaps who had just arrived by steamer from the Sixth Ward,and were filing past us to a platform recently erected in the verycentre of Paris.

  "I do believe," says Captain Bob Shorty, whisperingly, "I do believewe're going to have a mass meeting."

  Onward went the political chaps to the platform.

  A delegation mounted the steps, advanced to the front rails, andcommenced unfurling a vast linen banner. The sun was just setting, myboy, and as his parting beams fell upon the uplifted faces of thepolitical chaps, a soft breeze unrolled the standard, and the Mackerelsread upon its folds--

  REGULAR CONSERVATIVE NOMINATION FOR PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES IN 1865. THE GENERAL OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE.

  Shall it be said, after this, that republics are ungrateful? I thinknot, my boy--I think not. We have won a great and glorious victory, andthe only question remaining to be answered is, Who is responsible forit, my boy--who is responsible for it?

  Yours, in bewilderment, ORPHEUS C. KERR.