"Yes," says I, thoughtfully, "but they call it Plat.i.tude, sometimes."

He didn't hear me, my boy.

It is with raptures, my boy, that I record the promotion of Villiam Brown, Company 3, Regiment 5, Mackerel Brigade, to the rank of Captain, with the privilege of spending half his time in New York, and the rest of it on Broadway. Villiam left the army of the Upper Potomac to pa.s.s his examination here, and the Board of Examiners report that he reminded them of Napoleon, and made them feel sorry for the Duke of Wellington. One of the questions they asked him was:

"Suppose your company was suddenly surrounded by a regiment of the enemy, and you had a precipice in your rear, and twenty-seven hostile batteries in front--what would you do?"

Villiam thought a moment, and then says he:

"I'd resign my commission, and write to my mother that I was coming home to die in the spring-time."

"Sensible patriot," says the Board. "Are you familiar with the history of General Scott?"

"You can bet on it," says Villiam, smiling like a sagacious angel; "General Scott was born in Virginia when he was quite young, and discovered Scotland at an early age. He licked the British in 1812, wrote the Waverly Novels, and his son Whahae bled with Wallace. Now, old hoss, trot out your commission and let's liquor."

"Pause, fair youth," says the Board. "What makes you think that General Scott had a son named 'Whahae'? We never heard that before."

"Ha!" says Villiam, agreeably, "that's because you don't know poickry.

Why," says Villiam, "if you'll just turn to Burns' works, you'll learn that

"'Scot's wha' ha'e wi' Wallace bled,'

"and if that ain't good authority, where's your Shakspeare?"

The Board was so pleased with Villiam's learning, my boy, that it gave him his commission, presented him with two gun-boats and a cannon, and recommended him for President of the New York Historical Society.

It was rumored in camp last night, that the army would go into winter-quarters, and I asked Colonel Wobinson if he couldn't lend me a few of the quarters in advance, as I felt like going in right away. He explained to me that winter-quarters would only be taken in exchange for Treasury Notes, and I withdrew my proposition for a popular loan.

Yours, speculatively,

ORPHEUS C. KERR.

LETTER XX.

CONCERNING A SIGNIFICANT BRITISH OUTRAGE, AND THE CAPTURE OF MASON AND SLIDELL.

WASHINGTON, D.C., November 24th, 1861.

Mr. Seward, my boy, who takes the Oath with much sugar in it, and is likewise Secretary of State, will probably write twenty-four letters to all the Governors this week, in consequence of a recent outrage committed by Great Britain. I may remark with great indignation, that Great Britain is a member of one of the New York regiments, my boy, and enlisted for the express purpose of stretching his legs. He is shaped something like a barrel of ale, and has a chin that looks like an apple-dumpling with a st.i.tch in its side. As I rode slowly along near Fort Corcoran, on my Gothic steed Pegasus, about an hour ago, admiring the beauties of Nature, and smoking a pipe which was presented to me by the Women of America, I espied Great Britain seated by the roadside, contemplating an army biscuit. These biscuit, my boy, as I stated last week, were discovered amid the ruins of Herculaneum, and were at first taken for meteoric stones.

"Good morning, old Neutrality," says I, affably, "You appear to be lost in religious meditation."

"Ah!" says he, sighing like the great behemoth of the Scriptures, "I was thinking of the way of the transgressor. If the hinspired writers,"

says he, "thought the way of the transgressor was 'ard, I wonder what they'd think about this 'ere biscuit."

"You're jealous of America," says I, "and it will be the painful duty of the Union, the Const.i.tution, and the Enforcement of the Law to capture Canada, if you continue your abolition harangues against the best, the most beneficent and powerful bread in the civilized world."

"Bread!" says he, with a groan in three syllables, "do you call this ere biscuit bread? Why," says he, "this ere biscuit is Geology, and if it were in old Hingland, it would be taken for one of the Elgin marbles, and placed in the British Museum."

I need scarcely inform you, my boy, that after this ungenerous remark of Great Britain, I left him contemptuously, and at once proceeded to blockade a place where the Oath is furnished in every style. We have borne with Great Britain a great while, my boy; but it is now time for us to take Canada, and wipe every vestige of British tyranny from the face of the Globe. The American eagle, my boy, flaps his dark wings over the red-head of battle, and as his scarlet eyes rest for a moment on the English Custom House, he softly whispers--he simply remarks--he merely e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.es--GORE!

Americans! fellow-citizens! foreigners! and people of Boston! Shall we longer allow the bloated British aristocracy to blight us with base abolition proclivities, while Mr. Seward is capable of holding a pen?

"Hail, blood and thunder! welcome, gentle Gore!

Let the loud hewgag shatter every sh.o.r.e!

High to the zenith let our eagle fly, Ten thousand battles blazing in his eye!

Nail our proud standard to the Northern Pole, Plant patent earthquakes in each foreign hole!

Shout havoc, murder, victory, and spoils, Till all creation crouches in our toils!

Then, when the world to our behest is bent, And takes the _Herald_ for its punishment, We'll pin our banner to a comet's tail, And shake the Heavens with a big 'ALL HAIL!'"

That's the spirit of America, my boy, taken with nutmeg on top, and a hollow straw. Very good for invalids.

Next to the question concerning the capacity of gunboats for the sweet-potato trade, my boy, the great topic of the day is the capture of Slidell and Mason, whose arrest so pleased the colonel of the Mackerel Brigade, that he got up at nine o'clock in the morning to tell the President about it.

In the year 1776, my boy, this Slidell sold candles in New York, and was born about two years after the marriage of the elder Slidell. While he was yet a young man, he went much into female society, and at length offered his hand to a lady. Her father being a male, gave his consent to the match, and on the day of the wedding, there was a fire in the Seventh Ward. Since that time, Slidell has been a married man, and was much respected until he got into the Senate. I get these facts from a friend of the family, who has a set of silver spoons engraved with the name of Slidell.

The rebel Mason was born and bred in the United States, and has always been a First Family. He says he was going to Europe on account of his health.

The capture of these men, my boy, cannot fail to produce a great sensation in diplomatic circles, and I am informed by a reliable gentleman from Weehawken, that Mr. Seward is preparing a letter to Lord Lyons on the subject. This letter, I learn, will contain some such pa.s.sages as this:

"I have the honor to say to your lordship, that your lordship must be aware of your lordship's important duty as a Minister to the United States, and I trust that your lordship will pay a little attention to your lordship's grammar when next your lordship addresses your lordship's most obedient servant. Your lordship will permit me to say to your lordship, that your lordship is in no way capable of interpreting the Const.i.tution to your lordship's American friends; and I trust your lordship will not be offended when I state to your lordship, that your lordship will find nothing in the Const.i.tution to compel your lordship to demand your lordship's pa.s.sport on account of the recent capture of State prisoners from one of your lordship's government's vessels, your lordship."

I read this extract to Colonel Wobert Wobinson, of the Western Cavalry, my boy, and he said its only fault was, that it hadn't enough lordships in it.

"Lordships," says he, "lend an easy grace to State doc.u.ments, and are as aristocratic as a rooster's tail at sunrise."

The colonel is a natural poet, my boy, and abounds in pleasing comparisons.

The review of seventy thousand troops near Munson's Hill, on Thursday, was one of those stirring events, my boy, which we have been upon the eve of for the past year. A new cavalry company, for the Mackerel Brigade, excited great attention as it went past, and I understand the President said that, with the exception of the horses and the men, it was one of the finest cavalry mobs he ever saw. The horses are a new pattern; fluted sides, polished k.n.o.bs on the haunches, and a hand-rail all the way down the back. A rebel caught sight of one of these fine animals, the other day, and immediately fainted. It was afterward ascertained that he owned a field of oats in the neighborhood.

Yours, variously,

ORPHEUS C. KERR.

LETTER XXI.

DESCRIBING CAPTAIN VILLIAM BROWN'S GREAT EXPEDITION TO ACCOMAC, AND ITS MARVELLOUS SUCCESS.

WASHINGTON, D.C., December 1st, 1861.

'Twas early morn, my boy. The sun rushed up the eastern sky in a state of patriotic combustion, and as the dew fell upon the gra.s.sy hill-sides, the mountains lifted up their heads and were rather green.