Chapter L: Letter XLIII

CONCERNING MARTIAL LITERATURE: INTRODUCING A DIDACTIC POEM BY THE "ARKANSAW TRACT SOCIETY," AND A BIOGRAPHY OF GARIBALDI FOR THE SOLDIER.

WASHINGTON, D.C., May 7th, 1862.

Southern religious literature, my boy, is admirably calculated to improve the morals of race-courses, and render dog-fights the instruments of wholesome spiritual culture.

On the person of a high-minded Southern Confederacy captured the other day by the Mackerel pickets, I found a moral work which had been issued by the Arkansaw Tract Society for the diffusion of religious thoughts in the camp, and was much improved by reading it. The pure-minded Arkansaw chap who got it up, my boy, remarked in pallid print, that every man "should extract a wholesome moral from everything whatsomedever," and then went on to say that there was an excellent moral in the beautiful Arkansaw nursery tale of

THE BEWITCHED TARRIER.

Sam Johnson was a cullud man,
Who lived down in Judee;
He owned a rat tan tarrier
That stood 'bout one foot three;
And the way that critter chawed up rats
Was gorjus for to see.

One day this dorg was slumberin'
Behind the kitchen stove,
When suddenly a wicked flea--
An ugly little cove--
Commenced upon his faithful back
With many jumps to rove.

Then up arose that tarrier,
With frenzy in his eye,
And waitin' only long enough
To make a touchin' cry,
Commenced to twist his head around,
Most wonderfully spry.

But all in vain; his shape was sich,
So awful short and fat--
And though he doubled up hisself,
And strained hisself at that,
His mouth was half an inch away
From where the varmint sat.

The dorg sat up an awful yowl
And twisted like an eel,
Emitting cries of misery
At ev'ry nip he'd feel,
And tumblin' down and jumpin' up,
And turnin' like a wheel.

But still that most owdacious flea
Kept up a constant chaw
Just where he couldn't be scratched out
By any reach of paw.
But always half an inch beyond
His wictim's snappin' jaw.

Sam Johnson heard the noise, and came
To save his animile;
But when he see the crittur spin--
A barkin' all the while--
He dreaded hiderfobia,
And then began to rile.

"The pup is mad enough," says he,
And luggin' in his axe,
He gev the wretched tarrier
A pair of awful cracks,
That stretched him out upon the floor,
As dead as carpet-tacks.

MORAL.

Take warnin' by this tarrier,
Now turned to sassidge meat;
And when misfortin's flea shall come
Upon your back to eat,
Beware, or you may die because
You can't make both ends meet.

The Arkansaw Tract Society put a note at the bottom of this moral lyric, my boy, stating that the "wicked flea here mentioned is the same varmint which is mentioned in Scripture as being so bold; 'the wicked flea, when no man pursueth but the righteous, is as bold as a lion.'"

Speaking of literature, my boy, I am happy to say that the members of the Mackerel Brigade have been inspired to emulate great examples by the biographies of great soldiers which have been sent to the camp for their reading by the thoughtful women of America. For instance, here we have the

LIFE OF GENERAL GARIBALDI.

BY THE NOBLEST RUM 'UN OF THE MALL.