The Orpheus C. Kerr Papers, Series 1

  He also said hic, my boy; and one of the ladies wanted "to know whatthat meant?"

  I told her that _Hic_ was a Latin term from Cicero de Officiis, andmeant _Hic jacet_--hear lies.

  "O!" says she, "te-he-he!"

  On reaching the sidewalk this time, my boy, the general clasped my handwarmly, and said he'd never forget me. He said I was his dear friend,and must never leave him; and I said I wouldn't.

  We then called at a house where the ladies all smiled upon us, andremarked that we were having charming weather. The general raised aglass, and says he:

  "Ge-yurls, I am an old man; but you are the complimens of season. Youare blushing like the wine-glass, and also your sparkles. On anotherNew Year's day let our banner--certainly let us all do it. And thenegro slavery blot out the map."

  As he uttered these feeling words, my boy, he bowed to me and kissed myhand. After which he looked severely at his pocket-handkerchief, andtried to leave the room by way of the fire-place.

  I asked him if he hadn't better take some soda; and he said, that if Iwould come and live with him he would tell me how he came to getmarried. He said he loved me.

  Shortly after this we called at a residence where the ladies all lookedvery happy and said that it was a fine day. The general threw all thestrength of his face into one eye, and says he:

  "Ladles, we are compl'm'ns, and you are the negroes on the map. Thisyear--pardon me, I should intro-interror-oduce my two friends who isdrunk--this year I say, our country may be hap--"

  Here the general turned suddenly to me with tears in his eyes, andasked me to promise that I would never, never leave him. He said that Iwas a gen'l'm'n, and ought to give up drinking. I conducted himtenderly to the hall, where he embraced me passionately, and invited meto call and see him.

  As soon as he had made a few remarks to a lamp-post, requesting it tocall at Willard's as it went home, and tell his wife that he was well,I took his arm, and we moved on at right angles.

  It is worthy of remark that at our next calling-place the ladies allbeamed with joy, and told us that it was a delightful day. The generaltook a looking-glass for a window, and stood still before it, until Itapped him on the shoulder.

  "D'you zee that drunken fool standing there in the street?" says he,pointing at the mirror. "It's Lord Lyons, s'drunk as a fool."

  I told him that he saw only his own figure in the glass, and he said hewould see me safe home if I would go right away. Chancing at the momentto catch sight of a wine-glass, my boy, he walked toward it in acircle, and hastily filled the outside of it from an empty decanter.Then balancing himself on one foot, and placing his disengaged hand ona pyramid of _blanc mange_ to support himself, he said impressively:

  "Ladles, and gentle-lemons, the army will move on the first of May,and--"

  Here the general went down under the table like a stately shipfoundering at sea, and was heard to ask the wine-cooler to tell hisfamily that he died for his country.

  Owing to the very hilly nature of the street, my boy, I was obliged toaccompany the general home in a hack; and as we rolled along towardsthe hotel, he disclosed to me an agitated history of his mother'sfamily.

  When last I saw him he was trying to make out why the chambermaid hadput four pillows on his bed, and endeavoring to lift off the two extraones without disturbing the others.

  Candidly speaking, my boy, this New-Year's-calls business is not asensible calling, and simply amounts to a caravan of monkeys attendinga menagerie of trained crinoline.

  Yours, philosophically,

  ORPHEUS C. KERR.

  LETTER XXVI.

  GIVING THE PARTICULARS OF A FALSE ALARM, AND A BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH OFTHE OFFICER COMMANDING.

  WASHINGTON, D.C., January 11th, 1862.

  Scarce had the glorious sun shot up the dappled orient on Monday morn,my boy, when the Commander-in-Chief of the Mackerel Brigade received atelegraphic dispatch which reads as follows:

  "General Frost has appeared near Centreville, and is now covering the wood and road in our rear."

  It bore no signature, my boy; but the general believed the danger to beimminent, and ordered Captain Bob Shorty to take ten thousand men, andmake a reconnoissance towards Centreville.

  "Bob, my cherub," says he, "if you can get behind the rebel Frost, andtake the whole Confederacy prisoners, don't administer the Oath untilthe Eagle of America is avenged."

  Bob smiled like a happy oyster, and says he:

  "Domino!"

  'Twas nigh upon the hour of noon when Captain Bob Shorty and hisveterans approached the beautiful village of Centreville. Cross-treeshad been placed under the horses of the cavalry to keep them fromfalling down, and the infantry were arranging themselves so that thebayonets of the front rank shouldn't stick into the rear rank's eyesevery time they turned a corner, when a solitary contraband might havebeen seen eating hoe-cake by the solemn road-side.

  "Confederate," said Captain Bob Shorty, approaching him with his swordvery much between his legs, "hast seen the rebel Frost and hismyrmidions? I come to give him battle, having heard that he washereabouts."

  The Ethiopian took a pentagonal bite of hoe-cake, and says he:

  "Tell Massa Lincon that the frost war werry thick last night, but habgone by this time."

  Captain Bob Shorty took off his cap, my boy, looked carefully into it,put it on again, and frowned awfully.

  "Comrades," says he, addressing the troops, "you have all heard ofa big thing on Snyder. You now behold it before you. This herereconnoissance," says he, "is what the French would call a _few-paw_.We must turn it into a foraging expedition. Charge on yonder hay-stack,and remember me in your prayers!"

  'Twas early eve, my boy, when that splendid army returned to Potomac'sshore, with two hay-stacks for the horses, and ten Confederate chickensfor supper.

  Nobody hurt on our side.

  I inclose the following brief sketch of the gallant soldier whocommanded in this brilliant affair.

  CAPTAIN ROBERT SHORTY.

  This brave young officer was born in the Sixth Ward of New York, and was twenty-one years old upon arriving of age. When but a lad, he studied tobacco and the girls, and ran to fires for his health. When eligible to the right of franchise, he voted seven times in one day, and attracted so much attention from the authorities that his parents resolved to make a lawyer of him. On the breaking out of the war with Mexico, he offered his services to the Government as a major-general, but, for some reason, was not accepted. He will probably be sent to supersede General Halleck, in Missouri, as soon as any one of St. Louis writes to ask the President for another change.

  * * * * *

  The general was so pleased when he heard of this spirited action, myboy, that he offered to review the Mackerel Brigade the next morning,and privately informed me that he considered the Southern Confederacydoomed to expire in less than three months. He said that it was alreadytottering to its fall, which must take place in the Spring.

  Perhaps so, my boy--perhaps so!

  Yours, for the flag,

  ORPHEUS C. KERR.

  LETTER XXVII.

  TOUCHING INCIDENTALLY UPON THE CHARACTER OF ARMY FOOD, AND CELEBRATINGTHE GREAT DIPLOMATIC EXPLOIT OF CAPTAIN VILLIAM BROWN AT ACCOMAC.

  WASHINGTON, D.C., January 19th, 1862.

  In the early part of the week I resolved to go down to Accomac, on aflying visit to Captain Villiam Brown and the Conic Section of theMackerel Brigade. Accordingly, I went to the shoemaker's after mygothic steed Pegasus. The shoemaker, had said, my boy, that there wasenough loose leather hanging about the architectural animal to make mea nice pair of slippers, and I gave him permission to cut them out. Theoperation only made the Morgan's back look a little more like the roofof a barn; but I like him all the better for that, because he sheds therain easier.

  The General of the Mackerel Brigade at first intended to accompany meto Accomac; and says he to Samyule Sa-mith, the
orderly, says he:"Samyule! just step down to the anatomical museum of the Western chaps,and buy me the best horse you can find in the collection. Here's adollar and half--fifty cents for the horse and a dollar for yourtrouble."

  Samyule came back in about forty minutes, and says he:

  "Colonel Wobert Wobinson, of the Western Cavalry, says I must comeagain this afternoon, as he don't know whether there'll be any horsesleft or not."

  "Thunder!" says the General. "How left?"

  "Vy," says Samyule, "he can't tell whether any horses will be leftuntil the boys have had their dinner, can he!"

  "Ah!" says the General, contemplatively, "I forgot the beef-souprecommended by the doctors. It will be a pleasant change for the boys,"says he, "from the mutton that was so plenty just after them mulesdied."

  Speaking of dinner, my boy; let me tell you about a curious occurrencein our camp lately. Just after a load of rations had come in, a NewYork chap says to me, says he:

  "I'm glad they're going to put down the Russ pavement here pretty soon;for it's getting damp as thunder."

  "Id-jut!" said I, sarcastically, "where have you seen any Russpavement?"

  He just took me softly by the arm, my boy, and led me a little way, andpointed, and says he:

  "If you'll just look there, you'll see some of the blocks."

  "Why," says I, "those are army biscuit for the men."

  "Biscuit!" says he, rubbing his stomach, and turning up his eyes like acat with the apoplexy--"if them's biscuit, Bunker Hill Monument must bebuilt of flour--that's all."

  And he went out and took the Oath.

  On arriving at Accomac, my boy, I asked a blue-and-gold picket whereVilliam Brown was, and he said that he was in the library.

  The library was used by the former occupants of the residence as ahen-house, and contains two volumes--Hardee abridged, and "Every ManHis Own Letter-Writer," Seward's edition.

  I found Captain Villiam Brown seated on what was formerly a Shanghai'snest, my boy, with his feet out of the window, and his head against aroost. He was studying the last-named book, and sipping Old Bourbon theOath, in the intervals. The intervals were numerous.

  "Son of the Eagle," says I, "you remind me of Sir Walter Scott, atAbbotsford."

  Villiam looked abstractedly at me, at the same time moving the tumblera little further from my hand, and says he:

  "I've been in the agonies of diplomacy, but feel much better." "Ha!"says Villiam, beaming like a new comet, "I've preserved our foreignrelations peaceful, without humbling the United States of America."

  I asked an explanation, and he informed me that on the evening before,one of his men had boarded an Accomac scow in Goose Creek, and capturedtwo oppressed negroes, named Johnson and Peyton, who were carrying newsto the enemy. "At first," says Villiam, sternly, "I thought of lettingthem off with hanging, but I soon felt that they deserved somethingworse, and so--" says Villiam, with a malignant scowl that made myblood run cold--"and so, I sentenced them to read Sumner's speech onthe Trent affair."

  On the following morning there came the following letter from therighteously-exasperated citizens of Accomac, which Villiam labeled as

  DOCKYMENT I.

  SWEET VILLIAM--SIR:--I am instructed by the neutral Government of Accomac to assure the United States of America, that the feeling at present existing between the two Governments is of such a cordial nature, that love itself never inspired more heaving emotions in the buzzums of conglomerated youth.

  Therefore, the outrage committed by the United States of America on the flag of Accomac, in removing from its protection two gentlemen named Johnson and Peyton, is something for demons to rejoice over. The daughter of the latter gentleman has already slapped her mother in the face, and bared her buzzum to the breeze.

  I am instructed by the government of Accomac to demand the instant return of the two gentlemen, together with an ample apology for the base deed, and the amount of that little bill for forage.

  Again assuring you of the cordial feeling existing between the two countries, and the passionate affection I feel for yourself, I am, dear sir, most truly, dear sir, as ever, respected sir, your attached

  WILLIAM GOAT.

  On receiving this communication from Mr. Goat, my boy, Captain VilliamBrown removed Lieutenant Thomas Jenks from the command of theartillery, and ordered six reviews of the troops without umbrellas. Hethen had a small keg of the Oath rolled into the library, rumpled uphis hair, shut one eye, and replied to Mr. Goat with

  DOCKYMENT II.

  LORD GOAT--SIR:--I take much felicity in receiving your lordship's note, which shows that the neutral Government of Accomac and the United States of America still cherish the feelings that do credit to Anglo-Saxon hearts of the same parentage.

  The two black beings, at present stopping in the barn attached to the present head-quarters, were contraband of war; but were, nevertheless, engaged in the peaceful occupation of asking the protection of your lordship's government.

  Were I to decide this question in favor of the United States of America, I should forever forfeit the right of every American citizen to treat niggers as sailable articles, since I would thereby deny their right to sail. The Congress of the United States of America has been fighting for this right for more than a quarter of a century, and I cannot find it in me heart to debar it of that divine privilege for the future.

  I might cite Wheaton, Story, Bulwer, Kent, Marryat, Sheridan, and Busteed, to sustain my position, were I familiar with those international righters.

  Therefore I am compelled to humble your lordship's government by returning the two black beings aforesaid, and beg leave to assure your lordship that I am your lordship's only darling,

  VILLIAM BROWN, Eskevire, Captain Conic Section, Mackerel Brigade.

  After reading this able and brilliant document, my boy, I told Villiamthat I thought he had made a very good point about negroes always being"sailable articles," and he said that was diplomacy.

  "Ah!" says he, sadly, "my father always said that if you could not getover a rail fence by high-jump-acy, there was nothing likedip-low-macy. My dad was a natural statesman. Ah!" says Villiam, in afine burst of filial emotion, "I wonder where the durned old fool isnow."

  This idea plunged him into such a depth of reverie, that I left himwithout another word, mounted Pegasus, and ambled reflectively back tothe Capitol.

  Diplomacy brings out the intellect of a nation, my boy, and is asplendid thing to use until we get our navy finished.

  Yours, in memory of Metternich,

  ORPHEUS C. KERR.

  LETTER XXVIII.

  CONCERNING THE CONTINUED INACTIVITY OF THE POTOMAC ARMY, AND SHOWINGHOW IT WAS POETICALLY CONSTRUED BY A THOUGHTFUL RADICAL.

  WASHINGTON, D.C., January 30th, 1862.

  Notwithstanding the hideous howlings of the Black Republicans, my boy,and the death of six Confederate pickets from old age, the Army of thePotomac will not commence the forward movement until the mud subsidessufficiently to show where some of the camps are. The Mackerel Brigadedug out a regiment yesterday, near Alexandria; but there's no use ofcontinuing the business without a dredging-machine.

  I was talking to Captain Bob Shorty, on Tuesday, respecting theinactivity of the army, and says he:

  "It's all very well to talk about making an advance, my beauty; butI've known one of the smartest men in the country to fail in it."

  "What mean you, fellow?" says I.

  "Why," says he, "you know Simpson, your uncle?"

  "I believe you, my boy!" says I.

  "Well!" says Captain Bob Shorty, "that air Simpson is one of thesmartest old cusses in the country--yet there ain't no 'On to Richmond'about _him_. I asked him once, myself, to make an advance. I asked himto make an advance on my repeater, and he said he couldn't."

  This argument, my boy, exposes thoroughly the base disloyalty andf
iendish designs of the newspaper brigadiers who are constantly urgingMcClellan to advance--advance! Let them all be sent to Fort Lafayette,and the moral effect on this cursed rebellion will be such that it willutterly collapse in two hours and forty-three minutes.

  The serious New Haven chap, of whom I spoke to you some time ago, takesa "radical" view of our long halt, and gives his ideas in

  THE MIDNIGHT WATCH.

  Soldier, soldier, wan and gray, Standing there so very still, On the outpost looking South, What is there to-night to kill?

  Through the mist that rises thick From the noisome marsh around, I can see thee like a shade Cast from something underground.

  And I know that thou art old, For thy features, sharp, and thin, Cut their lines upon the shroud Damply folding thee within.

  Fit art thou to watch and guard O'er the brake and o'er the bog; By the glitter of thine eyes Thou canst pierce a thicker fog.

  Tell me, soldier, grim and old, If thy tongue is free to say, What thou seest looking South, In that still and staring way?

  Yonderward the fires may glow Of a score of rebel camps; But thou canst not see their lights, Through the chilling dews and damps.

  Silent still, and motionless? Get thee to the tents behind, Where the flag for which we fight Plays a foot-ball to the wind.