Chapter XXVII: 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 stitch 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 Constitution, 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 ejaculates--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 shore!
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 passages 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 Constitution 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 Constitution to compel your lordship to demand your
lordship's passport 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 documents, 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 knobs 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.