"'Why did she not tax me with my perfidy? Why did not her angel soul arise in its innocent love, to crush me with the glancing of an eye?

Oh, that she had uttered one reproach, one bitter word! She saw me, and with a cry of joy, cast her white arms about my neck, as on our marriage; they were like chains of searing, glowing iron to me, and I dashed her from me, howling in the delirium of my torments. She marked the wild fire that flashed from my eye, the dark flush that burned upon my cheek, my breast heaving with the struggles of the fiend within, my hair hanging in disordered ma.s.ses over my throbbing brow, the cowardly trembling of the hand concealed in my bosom; she beheld a fiend incarnate in the form of one who had sworn to love and cherish her forever; yet no word of reproach arose from those lips I had so often kissed. Again her arms were about me, and again I attempted to dash her to the ground.

"'"My husband, my dear Dominique!" she shrieked, clinging to me, and pressing her cheeks, pallid and cold, against mine, glowing and burning with the reflected fires of h.e.l.l. The spell of madness fell upon me, as I struggled with that faithful wife, and hissing froth boiled from between my teeth, mingling with her long locks of auburn hair. I suffered all the torments of the d.a.m.ned as we swayed to and fro, until her strength began to fail and her arms relaxed their hold. Then, with a horrid laugh, I wound her long curls about my hand, and plunged a stiletto to its hilt in her breast.

"'The warm blood of life poured in a torrent upon me, and as my victim lay gasping upon the ground, I danced frantically about her, laughing with glee.

"'I did not wait to see her die--I _dared not_ do it--but all gory as I was, I returned to my father. He met me with a smile, and his calmness communicated itself to me.

"'I was happy then--oh! yes, very happy!

"'With blood upon my hand, and madness in my brain, I wooed Lucia with all the cunning of insanity, and another gentle heart soon beat for me alone.

"'We were married! I remember the bright glare of the lights, the holy dignity of the priests, the gay laughter of the brilliant company, as my health and _happiness_ were pledged in goblets of rare wines, the face of my _second_ wife shining like that of an angel, with fond, confiding love for _me_; and then my father! We looked at each other, and smiled exultantly--we murderers, madmen, receiving the homage of reasonable beings. I was filled with mad joy, and sent forth peals upon peals of laughter while the ceremony was being performed. My father joined in my unnatural merriment, and surprise and fear was painted on every countenance. I saw the lips of Lucia tremble, and squeezed her hand so that she groaned with pain. Oh! what would I not have given to have been in the open air, yelling my triumph to the beast in his lair and the bird on the wing; making nature's arena to echo my bursts of mirth, and rising far above the earth on a sea of discord. My father continued near me through the ceremony, and left the saloon at its conclusion; but I _knew_ that his feelings were like mine and envied his liberty.

"'Then I grew calm again, and friends congratulated me, and music filled the air, and the dance went on, and I kissed my bride until she involuntarily shrank from me in confusion. I was very happy then.

"'At length the midnight hour arrived and the maidens of Lucia conducted her, veiled in blushes, to the nuptial couch. How beautiful did she look, arrayed in spotless white, such as bright angels wear. An hour elapsed ere I flew to her chamber and threw myself upon the floor in a paroxysm of mirth. There was a large lamp of gla.s.s that burned before a mirror in our bridal chamber, and as its perfumed oil was consumed a delicious odor ladened the air; as I rolled upon the carpet and tore it with my teeth, the light shone in my eyes, and in an instant I ceased all motion and stared fixedly at it, while cold drops of water came out upon my temple.

"'Timidly my bride approached and spoke to me; but I answered her not; for there was another form before my eyes; another bride speaking to my soul. There was an explosion; the lamp fell into a thousand pieces, and where it had been there stood _my murdered wife_, with the blood pouring from her bosom, and the stiletto in her hand. I saw her as plainly as I now see you, and she bade me _slay her rival_! I knew my fate decreed it so; I dared not disobey the dead, and with a howl of fury, I sprang upon Lucia, my _second_ bride. In vain she clasped her hands to me in prayer for mercy; in vain she tried to shriek for help; I grasped her pale throat until my nails sank into the flesh, and a purple hue spread over her face. There I saw her sink from blooming health to ghastly death, and every feature was visible to me in all its convulsive workings, although the light was out.

"'My spirit wife stood before me and my last victim, until she faded to nothing in the morning light.

"'As the beams of the sun streamed in upon me, I took my dead bride in my arms and stalked gaily down to the saloon of my father. I heard him laughing loudly, and with a laugh I answered him as I carried my burden into his presence. He, too, had something in his arms, and it was the lifeless form of Cerise, crumbling to decay, and fresh from a banquet of worms. We placed our treasures side by side upon a table, and embraced each other with yells of laughter. Higher and higher rose our mirth, and louder grew our shouts of triumph, until the street beneath us was crowded with people, and the servants burst into the saloon where we held our revel.

"'We were seized and carried before the Duke, with the cold corpses of my wives; but we laughed when they called us murderers, and cursed when others called us madmen.

"'The keepers of the madhouse awoke me from my slumbers to tell me that my father had died during the night. What was that to me? I wanted a light burning beside me all night, and then he would not come from the grave to visit me. So I laughed and was merry to think that I was locked up in a madhouse. After many years I was released from my prison, and came thither to take the cowl of a monk. Think not that I am mad, holy father, when I solemnly swear that the shades of my wives stand beside me every night, and only wait until the light goes out, to drag me down to h.e.l.l. I see them _now_, with bleeding bosom, and throat bearing the prints of my nails! Cerise! Lucia! I defy thee both! The lamp still burns! ha! ha! ha!'

"With a horrid laugh brother Dominique fell upon his face on the ground, like one blasted by a stroke from heaven; and with a vague feeling of terror, I crawled stealthily to my own cell.

"On the following day we met at morning prayer, in the chapel, but he treated me as though we had never known each other, and the events of the preceding night were never again mentioned by either of us.

"One evening, loud peals of laughter were heard issuing from the cell of the maniac, and several of the monks hastened thither with me, to learn its cause. On opening the door, I first beheld the lamp lying extinguished in its niche, while brother Dominique was stretched upon the stony pavement in strong convulsions, giving vent every now and then to sounds of mirth, so dreadful that we stopped our ears, and fled horrified to the superior. When all was again silent we returned to the cell; but the maniac was not there, and the niche was vacant."

Such, my boy, was the story related by M. Bonbon, the reading making him hoa.r.s.e, and the plot suggesting a nightmare also.

Yours, staringly, ORPHEUS C. KERR.

LETTER LXV.

NOTING THE REMARKABLE RETROGRADE ADVANCE OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE UPON WASHINGTON, AND THE UNSEEMLY RAIDS OF THE RECKLESS CONFEDERACY.

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

As every thing continues to indicate, my boy, that President Lincoln is an honest man, I am still of the opinion that the restoration of the Union is only a question of time, and will be accomplished some weeks previous to the commencement of the Millennium. It is the "Union as it was" that we want, my boy, and those who have other articles to sell are hereby accused of being accursed Abolitionists. I was talking the other day to a venerable Congressman from Maryland, who had just arrived to protest against the disturbance of mail facilities between Baltimore and the capital of the Southern Confederacy, and says he, "I have several friends who are Confederacies, and they inform me that they are perfectly willing to return to the Union as it Was, in case they should fail in their present enterprise. If I thought," says the Congressman, hastily placing a lottery-ticket in his vest-pocket, "if I thought that this war was to be waged for the purpose of injuring the Southern Confederacy, rather than to restore the Union as it was, I should at once demand more mileage of the Government, and repeatedly inquire what had become of all the 'Wide-Awakes.'"

As he uttered this last horrible threat, my boy, I was impressed with a sense of something darkly democratic. Too many of the "Wide-Awakes" of the last campaign are indeed fast asleep now, when their country needs them. I saw one of them slumbering near Culpepper Court House last week. He was sleeping with his right arm twisted in the spokes of a disabled cannon wheel, and a small purple mark was on his right temple.

But he was not alone in his forgetful sloth, my boy; for near him, and rigidly grasping his disengaged hand, was a Democrat slumbering too!

The sight, I remember, rendered me so honestly indignant, that I could not help pointing it out to the Mackerel Chaplain, who was engaged in selling hymn-books to the wounded. The Chaplain looked a moment at the Fusion Ticket before us.

"They sleep for the Flag," says he, softly, "and may its Stars shed pleasant dreams upon their loyal souls for ever."

The Chaplain is an enthusiast, my boy, and this is what he has written about

OUR GUIDING STARS.

The planets of our Flag are set In G.o.d's eternal blue sublime, Creation's world-wide starry stripe Between the banner'd days of time.

Upon the sky's divining scroll, In burning punctuation borne, They shape the sentence of the night That prophesies a cloudless morn.

The waters free their mirrors are; And fair with equal light they look Upon the royal ocean's breast, And on the humble mountain brook.

Though each distinctive as the soul Of some new world not yet begun, In bright career their courses blend Round Liberty's unchanging Sun.

Thus ever shine, ye Stars, for all!

And palsied be the hand that harms Earth's pleading signal to the skies, And Heav'ns immortal Coat of Arms.

You are probably aware, my boy, that the unconquerable Mackerel Brigade is still advancing upon Washington in a highly respectable and strategic manner; and that all correspondents are excluded from the lines, lest some of them, in their natural blackness of heart, should construe the advance upon Washington into a retreat from Richmond.

But I gained admission to the scene by adopting the airy and pleasing uniform of the Southern Confederacy; and am thereby enabled to give you some further account of the skillful retrograde advance to which I dimly referred in my absorbing last.

The uniform of the Southern Confederacy is much respected by many of our officers, my boy, and is the only guise in which a fellow-being may scrutinize the national strategic works with entire safety.

Thus attired, I joined the Mackerel Brigade in its cheerful work of pushing Richmond away from its martial front, and having penetrated to the rear where horrible carnage was being wrought in the frantic ranks of the Confederacy, I beheld the idolized General of the Mackerel Brigade anxiously searching for something upon the ground. In a moment, he looked up, and says he to the warriors in his neighborhood:

"My children, have you seen anything of a small black bottle that I placed upon the gra.s.s, just now, when I turned to speak to my aid?"

A Mackerel chap coughed respectfully, and says he: "I guess it was taken by some equestrian Confederacies, which has just made another raid."

"Thunder!" says the General, "that's the third bottle I've lost in the same way within an hour." And he proceeded slowly and thoughtfully to mount his horse, which stood eyeing him with funereal solemnity and many inequalities of surface.

Turning to another part of the line, my boy, I beheld Captain Villiam Brown and Captain Bob Shorty in the act of performing a great strategic movement with the indomitable Conic Section, many of whom were employing the moment to take a last look at the canteens presented to them before leaving home by their devoted mothers. A number of reckless Confederacies had just crossed a bridge spanning a small stream near by, and the object of this daring movement was to suddenly destroy the bridge before they could retreat and then make prisoners of the whole.

It was a sublime conception, my boy--it was a sublime conception, and rich with strategy.

Like panthers surrounding their unsuspecting prey, the wily Mackerels swept noiselessly across the bridge, applied their axes with the quickness of thought, and in a moment the doomed structure fell splashing into the water. It was beautiful to see Villiam's honest exultation at this moment; his eyes brightened like small bottles of brandy with the light shining through them, and says he:

"We have circ.u.mvented the Confederacy. Ah!" says Villiam, proudly; "the United States of America is now prepared to continue in the exchange business, and--"

He paused. He paused, my boy, because he suddenly observed that Captain Bob Shorty had commenced to scratch his head in a dismal manner.

"I'm blessed," says Captain Bob Shorty, in a cholerical manner--"I'm blessed if I don't think there's some mistake here, my military infant!"