Chapter XLVI: Letter XXXIX

SHOWING HOW A REBEL WAS REDUCED, AND CONVERTED TO "RECONSTRUCTION," BY THE VALOROUS ORANGE COUNTY HOWITZERS.

WASHINGTON, D.C., April 13th, 1862.

The stirring times are come again, the maddest of the year, and I am beginning to believe, my boy, that what is to be will be as what has been has. Though still without my Gothic charger, Pegasus, that symmetrical racer having been borrowed for a writing-desk by a Secretary of the Fronterior, I am enabled to keep up communications with the Mackerel _corpse dammee_ down the river, and ten thousand star-spangled banners flash through my veins as I relate the recent great artillery expedition of the Orange County Howitzers.

It seems, my boy, that an intellectual member of the Mackerel Brigade got tired of investing Yorktown, and wandered away in pursuit of adventure. As he peregrinated in the neighborhood of a rebel domicil, he beheld what he took for the bird of our country, stalking out of the barnyard, and was taking measures to confiscate it, when the proprietor made his appearance, and says he:

"Hessian, spare that goose!"

The Mackerel chap gave a tragic start, and says he:

"'Tis the Eagle I would rescue, Horatio; the bird celebrated by my brother, the Congressman, in all his speeches."

"Well," says the foul traitor, "it is undoubtedly what the Congressman takes for an Eagle, as I am aware that Congressmen generally treat the American Eagle as if he were a goose; but as that gander happens to belong to one of the very First Families of Virginia, and cost me four shillings, it becomes my painful duty to resist your habeas corpus act." And with that he drove the beautiful bird into the barnyard, and locked the gate.

Fired to fury by this insult from one of those whom our army had come to protect, the Mackerel chap went immediately back to quarters, and appealed to his comrades for vengeance.

That gifted officer Samyule Sa-mith, heard his burning words, and says he:

"The cannon of the Union shall speak in this matter. Let the Orange County Howitzers get ready for action, and I will lead them against the Philistine."

Instantly arose the notes of dreadful preparation; the guns were mobilized, six English gentlemen in the hosiery business were invited to view the coming battle, and just as the moon rose above the trees, the artillery started for the rebel stronghold.

Arriving before the offending house, the howitzers were placed in line, and all got ready for the bombardment. It was just possible, my boy, that two men might have marched into that house, and captured the misguided Confederacy without slaughter. You may be unable to see what use there was in bringing artillery and forming in line of battle; but you are very ignorant, my boy; you know nothing about strategy and war.

"Soldiers," says Samyule, "remember that the eyes of the whole world are upon you at this moment, and endeavor to hit the house as often as possible. We will fire one round without ball," says Samyule, "to see if the powder is first-class."

Now it chanced that while the loading-up was going on, the gallant Lieutenant Lemons got his legs wonderfully entangled in the lanyard of his piece, and kept turning the howitzer around in a manner strongly expressive of nervous agitation. Suddenly he stepped across to where Samyule was standing, and whispered in his ear.

"O, I see," says Samyule, kindly, "you were educated at West Point, and want to know which end of the cannon ought to be pointed at the enemy. Well," says Samyule, instructively, "you'd better point the end with a hole in it."

Everything being in readiness, my boy, the combined battery launched its thunders on the air, creating a great sensation in the neigboring hen-roosts, and causing a large rooster to fall from a branch in the midst of his refreshing slumbers.

"Now, that the powder has sustained its reputation," says Samyule, impressively, "let the two-inch balls be hurled at the enemy's works."

As the house was full ten yards off, this second discharge failed to hit it; but it brought the Southern Confederacy to the window in his night-cap, and says he:

"There's no use of my trying to sleep, if you chaps keep making such a noise down there."

"Unhappy man," says Samyule, solemnly, "we come here to reduce you, and will listen to nothing but unconditional surrender."

The Confederacy gaped, and says he:

"I'm very sleepy, and can't talk to you now; but I'll call over in the morning."

And he shut the window, and went back to bed. A frown was observed to steal over the face of Samyule. He has a peculiar countenance, my boy, and a frown affects it strangely. Take his mouth and moustache together, and they remind you of a mouse sunning himself on the edge of his hole; and when the frown comes on, the mouse acts as though he had a stomach-ache.

"Comrades," says Samyule, "the enemy requires another round, and we must do it on the square. Fire!"

Like four-and-twenty thunder-storms the howitzers roared together, and had not the Orange County veterans forgotten to put in any balls, there is reason to believe that some windows would have been broken. Another discharge, however, was more successful, as it knocked the top off the chimney.

The Southern Confederacy appeared at the window again, and says he:

"If you fellows don't quit that racket down there, you'll irritate me pretty soon."

This significant remark caused a sudden cessation of the bombardment, and Samyule hastily called a council of war.

"Gentlemen," says Samyule, "a new issue has arisen. If we irritate the Southern Confederacy, all hopes of future Union and reconstruction may be destroyed."

A chap who was a conservative democrat suddenly flamed up at this, and says he:

"The abolitionists caused this terrible war, and it is our business, as no-party men, to finish it Constitutionally. If we irritate this man, no power on earth will ever make him submit to reconstruction. Ask him."

Here the democratic chap took a large taste of tobacco, and sighed for his country.

"Mr. Davis," says Samyule to the Confederacy at the window, "if we do not irritate you, will you consent to be reconstructed?"

"Reconstructed!" says the Confederacy, thoughtfully; "reconstructed! Ah!" says he, "you mean, will I consent to be born again?"

"Yes," says Samyule, metaphysically; "will you consent to be borne again, as we have borne with you heretofore?"

The Confederacy thought awhile, and then says he:

"Consider me reconstructed."

As that was all the Constitution asked, of course there was no more to be done, and the Orange County Howitzers returned to their original position in the mire, the English gentlemen remarking that the appearance and discipline of our troops were satisfactory to Albion.

Fighting according to the Constitution, my boy, is such an admirable way of preventing carnage, that some doctor ought to take out a patent for it as a cheap medicine.

Yours to come, and

ORPHEUS C. KERR.