The Orpheus C. Kerr Papers, Series 3 by R. H. Newell
LETTER LXXXIV.
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 ourdistracted country with more than his ordinary liking for fancypoultry, and our shattered bird may feel proud of a friendshipproffered by such an excellent beast. Truth to tell, the present aspectof our national chicken is not calculated to inspire an idolatrouspassion in the breast of European zoology. All his tail-feathers haveseceded, 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 ofdisinterested emotion; for I am almost sure, my boy, I am almost surethat nothing handsomer than a bear could have much real love for such afractured fowl.
A relative of mine, named A. Merry Kerr,[2] went to Russia some timeago, being secretly deputed by Government to expend the amount of hispassage-money in a judicious manner. He writes to me of his friendlyreception by Gorchakoff, and says he:
[2] Excepting Mr. Bayard Taylor, no ordinary traveler ever excited so much wild affection in the breasts of foreign kings and noblemen as this gentleman.
"Mr. Gorchakoff ordered my trunks to be put away under the throne forthe time being, and then hastened me to his own private bedroom, whosewindows command a full view of all you can see through them. Havingbrushed 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 shorehas caused the heart of the Czar untold anguish? How often has hismajesty said to me: 'The North _must_ triumph, Prince; and mark me whenI say, that two more centuries will not roll by without witnessing thefall 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 striped bass of upper air.'
"The North must conquer, you see, Mr. G."
Upon hearing me speak thus, Mr. Gorchakoff laid my head upon his bosomand smoothed my hair, and says he: "Oh, how I love your country! Russiawill never join any scheme of foreign intervention against yourbeautiful fish."
He said this in such a tone of real fondness that tears sprang to myeyes, and says I:
"Heaven bless you, my Muscovy duck!"
"With a look of the deepest tenderness, Mr. Gorchakoff now extendedhimself at full length upon the top of a bureau near my chair, andallowed his head to hang over in such a manner that he was enabled topress 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 tome every week; because when my mail is so large, I don't have any timeto attend to my family."
I promised to do so, and then went out to get some oysters. The candleshad made me quite light-headed.
From this, my boy, you will perceive that Russia "may be counted uponin an emergency;" as the man said of the bear-skin upon which he wasreckoning his small change.
On Thursday, bright and early, I mounted my gothic steed Pegasus, andstarted for Duck Lake.
Upon reaching the Mackerel camp, I found all the spectacled warriorsunder arms for a fray, the unaccommodating Confederacies on the otherside of Paris having urged some rifled objections to the constructionof a pontoon bridge across Duck Lake. The chap who was building thebridge had only just untied his second paper of nails, when a potatofrom some Confederate marksman, in the second-story of Paris, hit himviolently in the stomach. Simultaneously the cover of a dinner-potcracked his knuckles, and, as he fell back in good order, a brick-battapped him on the head. Believing that hostilities had commenced, thenew General of the Mackerel Brigade hastily put on all his dirtyclothes, and ordered the Orange County Howitzers to commit incendiarismwith Paris, simultaneously directing Rear Admiral Head to moor the"Secretary Welles" abreast of the nearest Confederacy and shell himwith great slaughter.
Under command of Captain Samyule Sa-mith, the Howitzers were openedupon Paris, and commenced such a tornado of round shot and grape thatthe 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 manoeuvring of the iron-platedMackerel squadron on the tempestuous waters of Duck Lake. After hastilymaking a fire in the stove on the quarter-deck, and placing a tumblerwhere it could warm, the stern old Rear Admiral ordered the Mackerelcrew to report how much water there was in the hold. The crew repairedto the stern-sheets and reported "One pitcherful and two lemons;"whereupon the hardy old sea-dog swore in his iron-plated manner, andordered the swivel-gun amidships to be trained upon the basementwindows of Paris. Everything being in readiness, the word was given tofire!
Bang! went the horrid instrument of carnage, and the hideous missilewent crashing through the back basement windows, cutting a bow from thecap of a venerable Florence Nightingale, who was at that moment makinga sponge-cake for some sick Confederacies, and driving the stove-pipeclear through the wall. The aged Nightingale thought that something hadhappened, and says she: "Well, I never did!"
Rear Admiral Head smiled; but it was the horrid smile of navalbloodthirstiness. "Revolve my turret!" says he, grimly, "I fight notagainst women; but the other window must be broken."
The venerable Neptune leaned over his columbiad to make sure of thisshot, unconsciously pressing his stomach against the but-end of hisgun. There was a report, my boy; the swivel-gun kicked, and the RearAdmiral fell upon the deck with a promiscuous violence.
Meanwhile, Company 3, Regiment 5, under Captain Villiam Brown, hadwaded across Duck Lake in as many divisions as there were Mackerels,and immediately commenced a tremendous fire of musketry at the upperwindows of Paris, wounding a Confederacy who kept a shoe-store upthere, and reducing two flower-pots to fragments.
Whilst I was witnessing this bombardment, my boy, and admiring thecourage with which Villiam was slashing around with his sword, Inoticed that the squadron had suddenly ceased firing.
It had ceased firing, because Rear Admiral Head had unexpectedlydiscovered that his Mackerel crew was a Black Republican; and hadtherefore engaged him in single combat, greatly to the detriment of theregular engagement.
Scarcely had I turned to view this new phase of war, when the firing ofhowitzers and musketry behind me instantly ceased, and I heard a lowmurmur of wonder arising from the whole brigade.
Quickly turning about again, I was hastening to where Captain BobShorty strode with the Conic Section, when I beheld General WobertWobinson, the new General of the Mackerel Brigade, cantering along theshore of Duck Lake on his trained charger, and exhibiting a form topetrify the whole world with admiration.
"Ah! _there's_ shape!" was the low cry of the spectacled veterans, asthey gazed breathlessly at the picture.
Captain Bob Shorty cleaned his glasses to make sure that it was noillusion, and says he: "By all that's Federal, it appears to me that Inever saw so much Shape!"
A Confederacy, who had just appeared on the roof of Paris with ahorse-pistol in his hand and slaughter in his thoughts, caught sight ofthe equestrian vision, and instantly dropped his merciless weapon ofdestruction 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 horizonround and round, until they finally rested upon the figure of the newGeneral of the Mackerel Brigade.
"Fracture my armor!" says he, ecstatically, "did I ever survey so muchShape!"
The battle was over for that day.
Shape, my boy, is a great thing in a General; for when Heaven's GreatPrinter commenced to set huma
Yours, typographically,
ORPHEUS C. KERR.