LETTER V.

CONCERNING THE GREAT CROWD AT THE CAPITAL, OWING TO THE VAST INFLUX OF TROOPS, AND TOUCHING UPON FIRE-ZOUAVE PECULIARITIES AND OTHER MATTERS.

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

I am living luxuriously, at present, on the top of a very respectable fence, and fare sumptuously on three granite biscuit a day, and a gla.s.s of water, weakened with brandy. A high private in the Twenty-second Regiment has promised to let me have one of his spare pocket-handkerchiefs for a sheet on the first rainy night, and I never go to bed on my comfortable window-brush without thinking how many poor creatures there are in this world who have to sleep on hair mattresses and feather-beds all their lives. Before the great rush of the Fire Zouaves and the rest of the menagerie commenced, I boarded exclusively on a front stoop on Pennsylvania Avenue, and used to slumber, regardless of expense, in a well-conducted ash-box; but the military monopolize all such accommodation now, and I give way for the sake of my country.

I tell you, my boy, we're having high old times here just now, and if they get any higher, I shan't be able to afford to stay. The city is in "danger" every other hour, and as a veteran in the Fire Zouaves remarked, there seems to be enough danger laying around loose on Arlington Heights to make a very good blood-and-thunder fiction in numerous pages. If the vigilant and well-educated sentinels happen to see an old n.i.g.g.e.r on the other side of the Potomac, they sing out, "Here they come!" and the whole blessed army is snapping caps in less than a minute. Then all the cheap reporters telegraph to their papers in New York and Philadelphia, that "Jeff. Davis is within two minutes'

walk of the Capital, with a few millions of men," and all the free states send six more regiments a piece to crowd us a little more. I sha'n't stand much more crowding, for my fence is full now, and there were six applications yesterday to rent an improved knot-hole. My landlord says that, if more than three chaps set up housekeeping on one post, he'll be obliged to raise the rent.

Those Fire Zouaves are fellows of awful suction, I tell you. Just for greens, I asked one of them, yesterday, what he came here for? "Hah!"

says he, shutting one eye, "we came here to strike for your altars and your fires--especially your _fires_." General Scott says that if he wanted to make these chaps break through the army of a foe, he'd have a fire-bell rung for some district on the other side of the rebels. He says that half a million of the traitors couldn't keep the Fire Zouaves out of that district five minutes. I believe him, my boy!

The weather here is highly favorable to the free development of perspiration and mint-juleps, and I have enjoyed the melancholy satisfaction of losing ten pounds of flesh in three days. One of the lieutenants of the Eighth has a gutter about half an inch deep worn down the bridge of his nose by the stream of perspiration since Wednesday; and a chap from Vermont melted so awfully the other day, that they had to put him in a refrigerator to keep enough of him to send home to his rich but pious family.

In fact, this weather makes the Northern boys fall away awfully; one of the Fire Zouaves fell away tremendously yesterday; he fell away from Washington to Annapolis, and then somebody had to put him in a guard-house to keep him from perspiring all the way back to New York.

The chap that boards on the next front stoop to me now, was so fat when he came here that his captain refused to use him as a sentinel, because he could not see far enough over his stomach to detect any one approaching him. Well, my boy, that chap has fallen away to such an extent that it took me half an hour last night to find out what part of his uniform he lived in. He blew down three or four times while we were walking up Pennsylvania avenue; and while I was helping him up the last time, a pa.s.ser-by asked me "What I would take for that ere flag-staff?"

By-the-by, you ought to have heard Honest Old Abe's speech, on Wednesday, when we raised the Star-spangled particular on the Post-office. Says he: "On this present occasion, I feel that it will not be out of place to make a few remarks which were not applicable at a former period. Yesterday, the flag hung on the staff throughout the Union, and in consequence of the scarcity of a breeze, there was not much wind blowing at the time. On the present happy occasion, however, the presence of numerous zephyrs causes the atmosphere to agitate for our glorious Union, and this flag, which now unfolds itself to the sight, is observed, upon closer inspection, to present a star-spangled appearance."

Mr. Seward's speech, which was also received with frantic enthusiasm, sounded equally well. He said: "I trust that this glorious spectacle will make a deep impression upon all present, notwithstanding the fact that I am still convinced that peace may yet put an end to this unhappy conflict by means of a convention of all the States on the Fourth of July, 2776, which I have always advocated. As the President has remarked, the breeze which has just arisen in the bay of Naples, causes the Star-Spangled Banner to arouse a far prouder feeling in every American breast, than if a vessel should come in with a palmetto flag at her peak, and upon being asked where it came from, should reply: 'Oh, from one of the petty republics of America.' I have nothing more to say."

I know this report is correct, for I copied both the speeches from a phonographic reporter's copy, and the phonographic reporter had only taken six gla.s.ses of old peach and honey before he went to work.

Yours, hastily,

ORPHEUS C. KERR.

LETTER VI.

INTRODUCING THE MACKEREL BRIGADE, DILATING ON HAVELOCKS AS FIRST MADE BY THE WOMEN OF AMERICA, ILl.u.s.tRATING THE STRENGTH OF HABIT AND WEAKNESS OF "SHODDY," AND SHOWING HOW OUR CORRESPONDENT INDULGED IN A HUGE CANARD, AFTER THE MANNER OF AN ENLIGHTENED DAILY PRESS.

WASHINGTON, D.C., June 15th, 1861.

The members of the Mackerel Brigade, now stationed on Arlington Heights to watch the movements of the Potomac, which is expected to rise shortly, desire me to thank the women of America for supplies of Havelocks and other delicacies of the season just received. The Havelocks, my boy, are rather roomy, and we took them for shirts at first; and the shirts are so narrow-minded, that we took them for Havelocks. If the women of America could manage to get a little less linen in the collars of the latter article, and a little more into the other departments of the graceful garment, there would be fewer colds in this division of the Grand Army.

The Havelocks, as I have said before, are roomy--very roomy, my boy.

Villiam Brown, of Company 3, Regiment 5, put one on last night, when he went on sentry-duty, and looked like a broomstick in a pillow-case, for all the world. When the officer of the night came round and caught sight of Villiam in his Havelock, he was struck dumb with admiration for a moment. Then he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed:

"What a splendid moonbeam!"

Villiam made a movement, and the sergeant came up.

"What's that white object?" says the officer to the sergeant.

"The young man which is Villiam Brown," says the sergeant.

"Thunder!" roars the officer, "tell him to go to his tent, and take off that night-gown!"

"You're mistaken," says the sergeant. "The sentry is Villiam Brown, in his Havelock, which was made by the wimmen of America."

The officer was so justly exasperated at his mistake, that he went immediately to his head-quarters, and took the Oath three times running, with a little sugar.

The Oath is very popular, my boy, and comes in bottles. I take it medicinally myself.

The shirts made by the women of America are n.o.ble articles, as far down as the collar; but would not do to use as an only garment. Captain Mortimer de Montague, one of the skirmish squad, put one on when he went to the President's Reception, and the collar stood up so high, that he couldn't put his cap on, while the other departments didn't quite reach to his waist. His appearance at the White House was picturesque and interesting, and as he entered the drawing-room, General Scott remarked, very feelingly:

"Ah! here comes one of our wounded heroes."

"He's not wounded, general," remarked an officer, standing by.

"Then, why is his head bandaged up so?" asked the venerable veteran.

"Oh!" says the officer, "that's only one of the shirts made by the patriotic wimmen of America."

In about five minutes after this conversation, I saw the venerable veteran, the wounded hero, and the officer taking the Oath together.

The Seventy-ninth, Highlanders, came to town early last week, and are the finest body of Scotchmen that were ever half _kilt_ by uniform alone. My heart warmed to them when I first saw them; and, with arms outspread, I greeted the gallant fellow nearest to me. With a tear of gratified pride in his eye, he exclaimed:

"Auld lang syne and Scots who ha'e; but gang awa' wi' Heeland laddie thegither o' John Anderson my Jo; and, moreover, we'll tak' a right gude willie wacht for muckle twa and braw chiel."

I told him I thought so myself.

I'm sorry to say, my boy, that some members of this splendid regiment are badly off for trowsers, and shock my modesty tremendously. They probably forgot them in their hurry to get to the war, and the Union Pretence Committee ought to send them out an a.s.sortment of peg-tops at once. "Not that I hobject to the hinnocent hamus.e.m.e.nts of the Highlanders, but that decency and propriety _must_ be preserved within the limits of the army"--as the British show-man observed.

I took a trip down to Alexandria the other night, to see how the Fire Zouaves were getting along, and came pretty near getting into trouble with one of Five's screamers. He was on guard; and when he challenged me, the pa.s.s-word slipped my memory.

"Drop that ere b.u.t.t," says he, bringing his musket to a charge, "or I'll give yer a taste of the old masheen. Who--wha--what are yer coughin' at--sa-a-ay?"

I was frightened, my boy, and had just commenced the appropriate prayer of "Now I lay me down to sleep," when suddenly an idea struck me, and I acted on it immediately.

"h.e.l.lo!" says I, "Johnny, didn't you hear the old Hall kettle strike for the Fourth District? Come along with me and help to get the old dog-cart on a jump, or Nine's roosters will get the rail-road track and have the old b.u.t.t in Christie street before we can swing the old masheen over a pig's whisker."

"Bully for you!" says he, dropping his musket, all in a quiver, and commencing to roll up his pantaloons. "I've got a bet on that ere fire; and ef I don't take the starch out of that ere Nine's feller what wears good clothes and don't do nothing--you may just take my boots."

It was all the force of habit, you see; and if I hadn't stopped that Zouave, I really believe he'd have run clean into the bosom of all the first families, looking for the Fourth District and Nine's feller!

The Mackerel brigade have got their new uniforms, and they are not the martial garments it would do to get fat in. High private Samivel Green put his on, partially, yesterday; but, it's a positive fact, my boy, that by the time he got his coat b.u.t.toned, his pantaloons were all worn out. I managed to get on one of the uniforms myself, and the first time I went into the open air all the b.u.t.tons blew off.

I've just returned from visiting the most mournful sight that ever made a man feel as though he'd been peeling onions all the week, and grating horse-radish on Sunday. It was the first dying scene of one of the "Pet Lammers," down at Alexandria, and, as one of Five's chaps remarks, it was enough to make the eye of a darning-needle weep, and bring tears to the cheek of the Greek slave. Jim was the only name of the sufferer, and if he ever had any other, it had slipped his memory, though his affectionate relatives sometimes called him "Shorty," by way of endearment. He was out on picket-guard the night before, when the Southern Confederacy attempted to pa.s.s him. He challenged the intruder, and called to his comrades for help; but, before the latter could arrive, the Southern Confederacy drew a masked battery from his pocket, and fired six heavy b.a.l.l.s through the head of the unfortunate Zouave, nearly fracturing his skull, and breaking several panes of gla.s.s. The cowardly miscreant then fled to an adjacent fence, closely followed by Sherman's Artillery.