Читать книгу The Orpheus C. Kerr Papers, Series 3 - R. H. Newell - Страница 8

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PROVING THAT RUSSIA IS INDEED OUR FRIEND; INSTANCING THE TERRIFIC BOMBARDMENT OF PARIS; AND TELLING HOW THE NEW GENERAL OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE DELIGHTED ALL WITH HIS SURPRISING "SHAPE."

Washington, D.C., February 2d, 1863.

The sagacious Russian bear, my boy, is found to regard the Eagle of our distracted country with more than his ordinary liking for fancy poultry, and our shattered bird may feel proud of a friendship proffered by such an excellent beast. Truth to tell, the present aspect of our national chicken is not calculated to inspire an idolatrous passion in the breast of European zoölogy. All his tail-feathers have seceded, and are in rebellion against him; and he has got a black eye, my boy, from strategic gambols with the playful Southern Confederacy. Hence, we should accept the bear's affection as a marvel of disinterested emotion; for I am almost sure, my boy, I am almost sure that nothing handsomer than a bear could have much real love for such a fractured fowl.

A relative of mine, named A. Merry Kerr,²went to Russia some time ago, being secretly deputed by Government to expend the amount of his passage-money in a judicious manner. He writes to me of his friendly reception by Gorchakoff, and says he:

"Mr. Gorchakoff ordered my trunks to be put away under the throne for the time being, and then hastened me to his own private bedroom, whose windows command a full view of all you can see through them. Having brushed me off and kissed me, he ordered some fried candles for two, and then says he:

"How comes on the Union cause, whose pregnant misery on Potomac's shore has caused the heart of the Czar untold anguish? How often has his majesty said to me: 'The North musttriumph, Prince; and mark me when I say, that two more centuries will not roll by without witnessing the fall of Richmond.'"

"Sir," says I—

"'The lightning-motion of the fish,

Beneath the sea, will just compare

With victory's impulse to our flag—

That stripéd bass of upper air.'

"The North must conquer, you see, Mr. G."

Upon hearing me speak thus, Mr. Gorchakoff laid my head upon his bosom and smoothed my hair, and says he: "Oh, how I love your country! Russia will never join any scheme of foreign intervention against your beautiful fish."

He said this in such a tone of real fondness that tears sprang to my eyes, and says I:

"Heaven bless you, my Muscovy duck!"

"With a look of the deepest tenderness, Mr. Gorchakoff now extended himself at full length upon the top of a bureau near my chair, and allowed his head to hang over in such a manner that he was enabled to press his cheek against mine.

"Wilt thou do me one favor, noble youth?" says he, with much emotion.

I placed a hand upon my heart.

"Then," says he, "just ask Mr. Seward not to write so many letters to me every week; because when my mail is so large, I don't have any time to attend to my family."

I promised to do so, and then went out to get some oysters. The candles had made me quite light-headed.

From this, my boy, you will perceive that Russia "may be counted upon in an emergency;" as the man said of the bear-skin upon which he was reckoning his small change.

On Thursday, bright and early, I mounted my gothic steed Pegasus, and started for Duck Lake.

Upon reaching the Mackerel camp, I found all the spectacled warriors under arms for a fray, the unaccommodating Confederacies on the other side of Paris having urged some rifled objections to the construction of a pontoon bridge across Duck Lake. The chap who was building the bridge had only just untied his second paper of nails, when a potato from some Confederate marksman, in the second-story of Paris, hit him violently in the stomach. Simultaneously the cover of a dinner-pot cracked his knuckles, and, as he fell back in good order, a brick-bat tapped him on the head. Believing that hostilities had commenced, the new General of the Mackerel Brigade hastily put on all his dirty clothes, and ordered the Orange County Howitzers to commit incendiarism with Paris, simultaneously directing Rear Admiral Head to moor the "Secretary Welles" abreast of the nearest Confederacy and shell him with great slaughter.

Under command of Captain Samyule Sa-mith, the Howitzers were opened upon Paris, and commenced such a tornado of round shot and grape that the surrounding landscape was very much defaced. There was much noise, my boy—there was much noise.

But the great sight of the hour was the manœuvring of the iron-plated Mackerel squadron on the tempestuous waters of Duck Lake. After hastily making a fire in the stove on the quarter-deck, and placing a tumbler where it could warm, the stern old Rear Admiral ordered the Mackerel crew to report how much water there was in the hold. The crew repaired to the stern-sheets and reported "One pitcherful and two lemons;" whereupon the hardy old sea-dog swore in his iron-plated manner, and ordered the swivel-gun amidships to be trained upon the basement windows of Paris. Everything being in readiness, the word was given to fire!

Bang! went the horrid instrument of carnage, and the hideous missile went crashing through the back basement windows, cutting a bow from the cap of a venerable Florence Nightingale, who was at that moment making a sponge-cake for some sick Confederacies, and driving the stove-pipe clear through the wall. The aged Nightingale thought that something had happened, and says she: "Well, I never did!"

Rear Admiral Head smiled; but it was the horrid smile of naval bloodthirstiness. "Revolve my turret!" says he, grimly, "I fight not against women; but the other window must be broken."

The venerable Neptune leaned over his columbiad to make sure of this shot, unconsciously pressing his stomach against the but-end of his gun. There was a report, my boy; the swivel-gun kicked, and the Rear Admiral fell upon the deck with a promiscuous violence.

Meanwhile, Company 3, Regiment 5, under Captain Villiam Brown, had waded across Duck Lake in as many divisions as there were Mackerels, and immediately commenced a tremendous fire of musketry at the upper windows of Paris, wounding a Confederacy who kept a shoe-store up there, and reducing two flower-pots to fragments.

Whilst I was witnessing this bombardment, my boy, and admiring the courage with which Villiam was slashing around with his sword, I noticed that the squadron had suddenly ceased firing.

It had ceased firing, because Rear Admiral Head had unexpectedly discovered that his Mackerel crew was a Black Republican; and had therefore engaged him in single combat, greatly to the detriment of the regular engagement.

Scarcely had I turned to view this new phase of war, when the firing of howitzers and musketry behind me instantly ceased, and I heard a low murmur of wonder arising from the whole brigade.

Quickly turning about again, I was hastening to where Captain Bob Shorty strode with the Conic Section, when I beheld General Wobert Wobinson, the new General of the Mackerel Brigade, cantering along the shore of Duck Lake on his trained charger, and exhibiting a form to petrify the whole world with admiration.

"Ah! there'sshape!" was the low cry of the spectacled veterans, as they gazed breathlessly at the picture.

Captain Bob Shorty cleaned his glasses to make sure that it was no illusion, and says he: "By all that's Federal, it appears to me that I never saw so much Shape!"

A Confederacy, who had just appeared on the roof of Paris with a horse-pistol in his hand and slaughter in his thoughts, caught sight of the equestrian vision, and instantly dropped his merciless weapon of destruction as though paralyzed.

"Oh!" says he, panting, "what Shape!"

Rear Admiral Head heard the sound in the midst of his single combat, and paused to ascertain what it was. His spectacles scanned the horizon round and round, until they finally rested upon the figure of the new General of the Mackerel Brigade.

"Fracture my armor!" says he, ecstatically, "did I ever survey so much Shape!"

The battle was over for that day.

Shape, my boy, is a great thing in a General; for when Heaven's Great Printer commenced to set human type in the "galley" of earth, He must have needed considerable General matter to fully make up His "forms;" and when a General has a form fully up to His make, we may consider him well set up.

Yours, typographically,

Orpheus C. Kerr.