The Orpheus C. Kerr Papers, Series 2

  LETTER LVIII.

  SHOWING HOW THE GENERAL OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE ISSUED AN AFFECTING GENERAL ORDER; EXEMPLIFYING THE BEAUTIES OF A SPADE-CAMPAIGN AS EXHIBITED IN STRATEGY HALL, AND CELEBRATING A NOTABLE CASE OF NAVAL STRATEGY.

  WASHINGTON, D. C., July 26th, 1862.

  The high-minded and chivalrous Confederacy having refused to consideritself worsted in our recent great strategic victory near Paris, myboy, it only remained for the General of the Mackerel Brigade tocommence undermining the Confederacy, after the manner of a civilengineer; and when last I visited the lines, I found a selectassortment of Mackerels engaged in the balmy summer pastime of diggingholes, and dying natural deaths in them.

  There was one chap with an illuminated nose, who attracted myparticular attention by landing a spade-full of sacred soil very neatlyin my bosom, and says I to him:

  "Well, my gallant sexton, how do the obsequies progress?"

  "Beautiful," says he, pausing long enough to take a powder which thesurgeon had left with him. "We've just struck a large vein of typhoidfever, and them air Peninsula veterans, which, you see in them holesyonder, are already delirious with it. Really," says the chap, with anair of quiet enjoyment, as he climbed into the hospital litter, justsent after him--"really, there's a smart chance of pushing on ourcemetery to Richmond before the roads become impassable again."

  I was looking after him, as the bearers carried him off, my boy, when Isaw Captain Villiam Brown ambling leisurely toward me on hisgeometrical steed, Euclid, alternately perusing a paper which he heldin his right hand, and discussing a canteen in his left. Thecountenance of the warrior was thoughtful, and his shovel swunglistlessly against the charger's flank.

  "How now, my Jack of Spades?" says I, sportively.

  "Ah!" says Villiam, slowly descending from the roof of his stallion,and suffering the latter to lean against a tree, "here is a newProclamation for the moral refreshment of the United States of America.Read this impartial edick," says Villiam impressively, "and you willfind it worthy of the Union Track Society."

  I took the official parchment, my boy, and found inscribed upon it thefollowing affecting

  GENERAL ORDER.

  Whereas, the United States of America now finds himself engaged in anunnatural struggle with the celebrated Southern Confederacy, for theUnion which our forefathers planted; and it being our object to showthe world that our intentions are honorable; it is hereby ordered, thatthe Mackerel Brigade do take possession of all guns, pistols, andhowitzers previously fired at them by persons now in arms against thisgovernment, keeping strict account of said weapons, in order that theirowners may be duly and amicably paid for them hereafter. It is furtherordered that persons of Mackerel descent, occupying the cultivatedgrounds of the aforesaid Southern Confederacy, shall keep strictaccount of the time spent upon the same, in order that reasonable rentmay be paid for the same as soon as the United States of America shallresume specie payment.

  By order of THE GENERAL OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE. GREEN SEAL, } VINTAGE OF 1776.}

  Having perused this document with much attention, I handed it back toVilliam, and says I:

  "In purity of moral tone, my hero, that paper is worthy the descendantof 1776."

  "1776!" says Villiam, reflectively. "Ah!" says Villiam, "it takesstrategy to revive recollections of those days. We have at leastseventeen hundred and seventy sick ones in our new hospital already.Come with me," says Villiam, genially, "and we will survey the interioraspeck of Strategy Hall."

  Strategy Hall, my boy, is a fine airy hospital extemporized from abarn, on the estate of a prominent Southern Union man, now commanding aregiment of Confederacies. The house itself would have been taken, asit had somewhat more roof than the barn, and a little more shade; butwhen the General of the Mackerel Brigade learned that Washington hadonce thought of taking a second mortgage on it, he gave orders that noMackerel should go within half a mile of the front door.

  On entering Strategy Hall, I beheld a scene calculated to elevatesickness into a virtue, and shed immortal lustre upon the kind-heartedwomen of America. Comfortably stretched upon rails taken fromConfederate fences, and of which a strict account had been kept, with aview to future compensation, were a whole section of the MackerelBrigade, in the full enjoyment of strategic health. Over each chap'shead hung his shovel, and a shingle inscribed with his name andaddress. Thus, the shingle nearest me read: "Spoony Bill, Hose Company123, New York Fire Department."

  And woman--lovely woman! was there, administering hot drinks to thefevered head, bathing with ice-water the brow of those shivering withthe cruel ague, pouring rich gruel over the chin and neck of thenervous sufferer, and reading good books to the raving and delirious.It was with a species of holy awe that I beheld one of those humanangels stand a hot coffee-pot upon the upturned face of one invalid,while she hastily flew to fill the right ear of a more urgent suffererwith cologne-water. And then to see her softly place one of theportable furnaces upon a very sick Mackerel's stomach, while she warmedthe water with which his beloved head was presently to be shaved; andto see her bending over to ask one of the more dangerously ill ones ifhe would not like a nice fat piece of fresh pork, while the other endof her crinoline was scraping the head of the Mackerel on the oppositerail.

  "O woman! in our hours of ease, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light, quivering aspen made; When pain and anguish wring the brow A ministering angel thou."

  I could have remained here all day, my boy; for I found the berries,ice-cream, and liquors, prepared for the patients, really excellent;but Villiam hinted to me that a splendid piece of naval strategy wasjust about to come off on Duck Lake, and I desired to witness ournational triumph on the ocean wave.

  Having quitted Strategy Hall, I repaired to the shore of Duck Lake,where numerous Mackerels were already watching Commodore Head's fleetas it lay waiting for an expected rebel ram on the treacherous element.It appeared that a lurking Confederacy in Paris had waited until theMackerels were all in their holes one day, and then hastily constructedan iron-plated ram from an old dry-goods box and two cooking stoves.With this formidable monster, he designed offering irregular oppositionto the Government in the way of killing a few vandal regiments, afterwhich he proposed to repair to the Confederate side of Duck Lake, andsend the particulars of his victory to Europe through some of the morevigilantly blockaded Southern ports. He had completed his ram, my boy,and hidden it under some hay on the Lake shore, ready to commence hiscarnage when the time came; but one of the Mackerels happened to see itwhen he went fishing, and Commodore Head was at once ordered to havehis iron-plated squadron in readiness to intercept and destroy themonster when she should appear.

  "Riddle my turret!" says the Commodore, in his marine manner, as hesighted his swivel gun and placed his fishing-rod and box of bait nearhis stool on the quarter-deck, "I feel like grappling with half-a-dozenrams of chivalry--loosen my plates! if I don't."

  And there we stood on that hot July afternoon, watching the noble craftas she sat like a duck on the water, the Mackerel crew sitting aftpicking a marrow-bone, and the venerable Commodore tilted back on hisstool upon the quarter-deck, fishing for bass.

  Presently we could see the treacherous Confederacy stealing down towhere his iron-plated monster lay hidden. Softly he removed thecovering of hay, and cautiously did he place the ram in the water,carefully examining the priming of the old-fashioned blunderbuss hecarried under his arm, as he stepped into this new Merrimac, andquietly raising his umbrella with one hand, while he paddled off withthe other.

  The distance between our fleet and the spectator being fully two yards,Villiam had thoughtfully provided bits of smoked glass for our party,and we now brought them to bear upon the scene of approachingslaughter. The Mackerel crew on board our squadron appeared to bewholly absorbed in the pleasing experiment of f
ollowing, with a straw,the motions of a fly whose wings he had just pulled off, and CommodoreHead had fallen into a refreshing slumber in the midst of his fishing.In fact, no means had been left unemployed to guard against a surprise.

  Now, it happened that the nautical Confederacy did his paddling withhis back to the bow of his iron-plated monster, and before he knew it,his ram went smack against the Mackerel fleet, with a sound like thesmashing of many dinner-plates. So tremendous was the shock, that thestool upon which Commodore Head was tilted, gave way beneath hisweight, and he came down upon the deck with a crash like muffledthunder. Simultaneously, the Confederacy discharged his blunderbuss twopoints to windward, and would have followed up his advantage byboarding at once; but by this time the Mackerel crew had recovered hispresence of mind, and poured such a shower upon the intruder from awatering-pot which he found in the stern-sheets, that the latterretreated in great disorder.

  Meanwhile, our gallant old naval hero had regained his feet, and havingcarefully put away his fishing tackle and box of bait, he made hisappearance on the starboard, with his spy-glass under one arm, hisspeaking trumpet under the other, and his log-book between his teeth.

  No sooner did the now thoroughly exasperated Confederacy behold hisvenerable figure, than he hastily shut up his umbrella and violentlycracked him over the head with it, knocking off his spectacles, andgreatly damaging his new white hat.

  "Batter my armor!" thundered the commodore, picking up his spectaclesand bending them straight again. "I don't want you to do that again."

  "Scorpion!" roared the Confederacy, dropping his umbrella, and dancingup and down in his ram, with his arms in a boxing attitude. "Come on,base old being!"

  "Then take thy doom," shrieked the maddened commodore, quickly strikinga match on the bottom of one of his boots, and touching off the swivelgun. With a report like the explosion of a deadly pistol, the trustyweapon hurled its contents about two inches above the head of theMackerel crew, wildly tearing off the cap of the latter, and shakingthe staunch craft from stem to stern.

  Somewhat alarmed by this demonstration, the Confederacy commencedshoving off with his ram, using his blunderbuss and umbrella as oars,and singing the Southern Marseillaise.

  "Out with the sculls and give chase!" ejaculated Commodore Head, in agreat perspiration. It was found, upon examination, that the sculls hadbeen left on shore, and it was further discovered that the Mackerelfleet was aground; otherwise our victory would have been more complete.

  With eyes strained to the utmost we were gazing upon all this from thebeach, when Villiam suddenly placed a hand upon my arm, and says he:"Hark!"

  We listened. There was a sound as of a faint human cry. It approachednearer. We could distinguish words. Nearer and nearer. The words nowcame clear and distinct to our quickened ears.

  "Extry a-Her-rr-rr-ald, capture of Vicksburg and sinking of the rebelram by Commore Head!"

  Since newspapers have become so plentiful in this once distractedcountry, my boy, that even the babe shews them upon its mother's lap,the poorest man is enabled to see instantaneously, through a glass asit were, the most distant events--a glass, my boy, which makes thingsappear much larger at a distance than they seem to those close by.

  Yours, admiringly, ORPHEUS C. KERR.