THE ORPHEUS C. KERR PAPERS. (continued 5)

"The officer of Cossacks started involuntarily, as his reverie was thus broken, and beheld standing before him a very stout individual, rather below the ordinary height in stature, with iron-grey hair, prominent features much embrowned, and clad in a plain green uniform, such as was worn by the privates in the army. The little man stood directly in his path, with an expression of good natured defiance resting upon his countenance, and flourishing a short cane in his right hand.

"'I beg your pardon, sir,' said Nicholas, somewhat provoked, 'but I was hardly conscious of being in the street at all. Allow me to pass, sir, I am in haste.' He attempted to get by the little gentleman, but that person had no idea of allowing such a move, and in the coolest possible manner linked his arm with that of the impatient officer.

"'It's my watch now,' he said, with a short laugh, 'and as you don't bunk in just yet, we may as well be company for each other. I ain't particular about which way you go, so up with your irons and we'll scud.'

"'I can permit no such familiarities,' replied Nicholas, angrily, attempting to release his arm. 'Are you intoxicated, that you do not perceive I am an officer? Let go my arm, sir, or I will call the patrol, and place you under guard.'

"Notwithstanding this threat, the little man still hung on, and walked boldly beside him with great good humor.

"'Ha! ha! you think I belong to the army, Mr. Officer,' he observed, with much jocularity. 'I know rather more about the sea, and never tip my cap to anything less than a frigate captain. But never mind that. This street should be better lighted, and yet if it had been, I should never have known you—don't you think so? Now really don't you think the Emperor or Czar should pay more attention to lighting the streets? I should think the people would grumble about it—don't they?'

"Seeing that his new acquaintance was determined to walk beside him, the officer had resolved to let him talk without venturing a reply, but this slur upon the Czar wounded his pride, and he answered impatiently,

"'You cannot be a Russian, sir, or you would not dare speak thus disrespectfully of the greatest, noblest, and best living sovereign. Why should we need more light, sirrah, when the moon is shining brightly? Let me warn you not to speak this way before others, or you may receive rough treatment. Every Muscovite honors and loves the Czar as a father, and a slighter cause than that just given by you has cost many a foreigner his life in St. Petersburg.'

"As the young man spoke, he seemed to forget his companion, and yielded his whole soul to the enthusiasm of loyalty.

"'I like you,' said the little man, heartily.

"'Indeed!'

"'Yes, and will help you.'

"'Help me?' asked Nicholas, stopping suddenly in his walk, eyeing his companion with mingled astonishment and suspicion.

"'I said so. Is there anything extraordinary in that!'

"'Who are you?' demanded the officer, sternly.

"'No matter about that. I am your friend.'

"'How do I know that?' asked Nicholas, still more astonished.

"'I will prove it. You are in love!'

"'Most men are at some periods of their lives.'

"'Very true, but you are in love now, and the lady of your affection is far above you in station.'

"'How in heaven's name do you know this? Who are you?' exclaimed the officer, completely thrown off his guard, and staring wildly at his odd companion.

"'It matters not how I know, or who I am. Let it suffice to say that I do know, and can aid you,' said the little man, with a more dignified air than he had before assumed. 'Restrain your feelings, and merely answer yes or no, to what I am about to say. You are loved by the lady?'

"'I believe—or, rather, trust so.'

"'She is the Countess Walewski?'

"'No.'

"'Her ward Olinska?'

"'I shall answer no more questions,' said Nicholas, compressing his lips.

"'Then, Mr. Officer, I will ask no more questions, but confine myself strictly to statements. You love Olinska, and have a rival in Admiral Praxin, who is favored by the Czar. So strong are your rival's claims that you have no resource save a clandestine marriage. You are now on your way to the hotel of the Countess, intending to perfect your plans with her aid, and baffle the Czar in his designs for the advantage of Admiral Praxin. Don't say a word to me now, you will receive a message before long. Good night, Nicholas Dimitri.'

"The little man nodded his head most knowingly, and fairly ran off, leaving the astounded lover looking at the moon.

"Nicholas remained perfectly still for some moments, looking vacantly upward, and then went on his way, like one who had just awakened from a strange dream.

"'What can this mean?' he asked himself. 'This man, whom I never saw before, has told me of things which no mortal save myself should know, and he is even acquainted with my name. This matter must be quickly settled, or I shall be placed under arrest, with no hope for the future.'

"Arriving presently at the door of an aristocratic mansion, he sent up his card, and was speedily ushered into an elegant boudoir, where a beautiful and richly-dressed lady was waiting to receive him. The Countess Walewski was not a young woman, yet the bloom of earlier years still lingered on her cheek, and the sprightly vivacity of girlhood shot forth from her dark brown eyes.

"'My dear Nicholas, you are behind time,' she said, giving her hand to the young officer, and causing him to take a seat beside her on a velvet couch. 'Lovers are not often tardy in keeping their appointments, but as I am not the lady, I must excuse you. Upon my word—I did not observe it before—you look discontented. Nothing has happened, I hope?'

"'Dearest lady, we are betrayed!' answered Nicholas, gloomily.

"'You are jesting.'

"'Would to God, I were! A strange man encountered me in the street as I came hither—' and Nicholas gave a full account of his interview with the little man in green.

"The Countess appeared much alarmed by the narration, and, for some moments after its conclusion, remained silent, but at length she recovered sufficient courage to reply,

"'This is strange indeed—and yet, Nicholas, this man may be a member of the police, who, as you know, make themselves masters of our very thoughts. You say he expressed a desire to assist you, and declared himself your friend; he may have some object in this we know not of—'

"'No living man shall rob me of my prize,' interrupted Nicholas, passionately. 'Olinska will be guided by me, and before morning we will be far from the capital. There is no time to lose; we must hasten towards Moscow this very night. Where is she? Why is she not here to meet me?'

"'Restrain your passion; be prudent, I entreat you,' exclaimed the Countess, grasping his wrists. 'Olinska loves you, and you alone; but I am her guardian, and she submits to my wishes, as duty bids her. Be yourself, Nicholas, and avoid any rash action. You cannot see Olinska to-night.'

"'Has your ladyship combined with my enemies to make a madman of me?' asked the officer, with great bitterness.

"'Have my actions been those of an enemy?' responded the Countess, with a reproachful smile. 'My dear Nicholas, I would have spared you a pang, but you compel me to tell all. My ward is to have an interview with Admiral Praxin to-morrow, by order of the Czar.'

"'With Admiral Praxin!' exclaimed Nicholas, starting to his feet.

"'Such is the truth. I do not believe that Peter will compel Olinska; but his command was imperative, and must be obeyed at all risks. Do not fear for Olinska—she is wholly yours, though a king should ask her hand. The Admiral can only sue to be rejected, and after that you must fly.'

"'Lady, I submit to your wishes,' said Nicholas. 'I honor the Czar, as all Russians should honor him, but Olinska shall be mine, though he should send a dozen admirals to thwart me.'

"After some further consultation of a desultory character, the officer of Cossacks took his leave, and retired to a bed rendered sleepless by doubts and fears.

"On the following morning, before he had completed his toilet, a servant entered the apartment to announce a visitor, followed by a little creature, not more than three feet in height, dressed in a livery of blue and silver.

"'This gentleman desired to speak with you, sir, immediately,' said the grinning servant, pointing to the new comer, and bowing himself out of the room.

"The minute specimen of humanity said not a word, but assumed an air of great consequence, and with much ceremony presented a letter. Nicholas could not repress a smile at the messenger's grotesque appearance, but his mirth sobered into surprise when he read as follows:

"'Nicholas Dimitri: The bearer of this missive is my servant, who will be of great service to both you and myself, in events about to transpire. Answer his questions without hesitation, and rest assured that Olinska shall be yours, despite the Czar and Admiral Praxin, or I am much mistaken. I will be present at the wedding. Your friend,

"'The Little Man in Green.'

"The young officer dropped the note from his hand, and eyed the dwarf in silent amazement.

"'Is that your death warrant?' asked the latter, ironically.

"'Who wrote this?' demanded Nicholas.

"'My master.'

"'And who is your master?'

"'The Little Man in Green. Ha! ha!' laughed the dwarf.

"'His name? I must know his name!' exclaimed Nicholas.

"The abbreviated Mercury placed a finger beside his little nose, in a very knowing manner, at the same time winking sagaciously.

"'I can answer no such question,' he said; 'my master desires to remain incog. at present. My name is Orloff, and I wish you to answer one inquiry: Does the ward of the Countess Walewski have an interview with Admiral Praxin to-day?'

"'She does.'

"'That is sufficient; you will hear from me soon,' and Orloff fled through the open door, with a speed truly marvelous.

"Nicholas called after him in vain, and then called his servant to dress him, with a vague apprehension of evil, and a belief that no lover ever had so many to assist his wooing as himself.

* * * * *

"Olinska, the daughter of a noble Polish family, was deprived of her parents at an early age, and selected for her guardian the high-minded Countess Walewski. Her childish years were spent in Warsaw, the city of her forefathers; but the Countess was obliged to remain at St. Petersburg, being a member of the Czarina's household, and thither she called her ward, to be presented at court, and drown the memory of her sorrows in the gaieties of the capital.

"Young, beautiful and unsophisticated, chaperoned by an illustrious lady, and reputed to be heiress of great wealth, the Polish maiden speedily became the magnet and toast of a brilliant circle, and a prize for which scores of young nobles contended. But the heart of Olinska was not to be purchased with titles, and while the scions of aristocracy knelt vainly at her feet, she bestowed her virgin affections upon Dimitri, whose silent homage defeated that of all others, with its proud, peculiar dignity. Military rank is esteemed by the Russians as little inferior to that of inheritance; yet they acknowledge a difference, and the line drawn between them by the usages of society cannot be overstepped with impunity. The young officer, although admitted into court circles, was aware of the distance between himself and the lady in a social sense; but the encouragement she gave him, so insensibly drew them together, that disparity of birth was forgotten, and love—the great leveller of conditions—reigned paramount.

"However misanthropically a man may express his indifference to the world's opinion, we are all, more or less, its most subservient slaves, and although Nicholas Dimitri assured his idol that the gossip of fashionables was nothing to him, he deemed it proper to solicit the kind offices of the Countess, as a go-between; and apparently visited the guardian, when, in reality, the fair ward was the object of his intentions.

"Peter the Great, who, at that period, occupied the throne of Russia, had an unpleasant habit of rewarding his bachelor friends for worthy deeds, with the hand of some fair maiden of his court; and, having beheld the Polish lady, he resolved to bestow her upon Admiral Praxin, who, though often regarded with suspicion by his sovereign, had lately rendered 'the state good service.' Olinska repulsed the old sailor's advances with disdain; but the Czar requested her to grant him a private interview, and a request from such a source being synonymous with a command, the lady felt obliged to grant it.

"Alone she sat, in a gorgeously furnished apartment, when the Admiral was announced, her sable locks shading a neck and bosom that rivalled the snow in their whiteness, and supporting her head with a hand of nature's choicest modeling.

"Admiral Praxin was a man in the 'sere and yellow leaf' of meridian life. His form was firm and upright, and his costume was that of a youthful courtier; but deep wrinkles tracked his brow with the footprints of age, and his hair had caught the snow-flakes of the mountain's farther side. That foretaste of eternal torments, the gout, had rather confused the measure of his tread, and the stout old Admiral entered the lady's presence with an ungraceful limp.

"As he passed into the room, a little figure clad in blue and silver, followed him noiselessly and, with wonderful agility, darted behind a curtain of the window.

"Olinska received her admirer with some embarrassment, which he seemed at first to reciprocate; but at length, after many leers and grimaces, his countenance assumed a determined expression, and he went directly to the point.

"'Madam,' he said, 'you can scarcely be ignorant of the object for which I now visit you; nor can you feel more deeply than I the extremely unpleasant position in which we are both placed, by the desire of Peter. Aside from the duty I owe my sovereign of submitting entirely to his will, I have a sentiment in my heart, which, should it find a reflection in yours, will make me the happiest of men. My title and fortune are trifles; but the sentiment of love for yourself, united to that of loyal obedience, may, perhaps, be deemed by you as more powerful suitors for your hand and heart.'

"'It were foolish in me to pretend to misunderstand you, my lord,' replied Olinska, with dignity. 'I am aware that the Czar favors your suit, and looks upon me as a fitting bride for one whom he delights to honor; but, greatly as I honor and respect both my sovereign and yourself, I must positively refuse obedience in this instance, and assume the right to act for myself. I am deeply grateful to you, my lord, for your intended kindness, but must, with all due respect, reject your offer, and close our interview.'

"As she spoke, her bosom heaved with emotions boiling within, her eye flashed, and the right of woman to maintain her prerogative shone from every feature.

"'Consider well, lady, before you drive me to despair by such cruelty!' exclaimed the Admiral, with vehemence. 'Consider what you are casting aside as worthless. I have influence at court beyond that of the most powerful; the very Czar fears to offend me, and the wife of Admiral Praxin will be second only to the imperial Catherine in grandeur and dominion. Let me hope that this is only maiden coyness, and that deliberation may alter your decision.'

"'I will not deceive you, my lord,' responded the lady, 'by awaking hopes which can never be realized. My hand shall never be yielded to any man by compulsion, or implied claims which I do not acknowledge; nor do I recognize any other right than my own to dispose of it. Dwell upon the subject no longer, or your title to the name of friend will be forfeited. Allow me to retire.'

"Dismay was betrayed in every lineament of the sailor's countenance, as he marked the firm tones in which these words were spoken; but anger quickly took its place as he asked, with a glance of suspicion,

"'Lady, have I a rival?'

"Olinska answered not, and arose to leave the apartment, when Praxin quickly intercepted her, and fell upon his knees.

"'Olinska, you shall not leave me thus!' he exclaimed, in tones hoarse with excitement. 'If love will not incline you to accept me, let ambition do it. I have the power to place you on the throne of Russia, if you but say the word; your own countrymen, the refugees from Sweden, and twenty thousand discontented serfs will rise at my bidding; the navy is mine, and, by a wave of the hand, I can become an Emperor.'

"With a look of the most unmitigated disdain, the lady regarded the supplicant at her feet.

"'I will not parley longer with a traitor,' she said, in tones so cold and piercing that he involuntarily recoiled from her, and she walked from the apartment with a queenly air.

"'I'll be revenged for this,' muttered the discarded suitor, as, with a frowning brow, he took his departure.

"Then forth sprang Orloff from his place of concealment, with a smile of no ordinary magnitude distorting his little face.

"'Good! and now for the Countess!' he exclaimed, following the Admiral.

"Meanwhile, Nicholas had wandered about the city in a most pitiable state of apprehension, and was about to rush madly to the hotel of the Countess, when he beheld the dwarf hastening toward him, carrying a letter at arm's length.

"'Here—from the Countess,' ejaculated Orloff, panting for breath, and handing him the missive. Nicholas hastily tore it open, and read:

"'Dear Nicholas:—Olinska has had an interview with the Admiral, and, from its results, I fear the worst. Have a chaise and four, at the private door of my hotel before sunset to-day. You may trust Orloff.

"'In haste, Walewski.'

"'Shall I engage the conveyance?' asked the dwarf, with a grin.

"'Yes! I will trust you,' replied the excited officer.

"'You will find all in readiness, at the private door, by four o'clock!' said Orloff, and he disappeared as quickly as he came.

"At the appointed hour, Nicholas repaired to the spot where a chaise and its attendants were awaiting him, and right speedily a muffled figure emerged from the private door, and touched his arm.

"'Olinska, dearest Olinska.'

"'Let us hasten, Nicholas, I fear we are betrayed,' answered Olinska, trembling in his arms.

"The officer quickly placed her in the chaise, and the horses had made their first spring forward when a great tumult arose in the street, and looking forth from a window of the vehicle, Nicholas beheld, to his dismay, half a score of imperial cavalry galloping furiously toward him.

"'Onward! onward!' he shouted to the drivers, and sank back upon his seat beside the fainting girl.

"At the top of their speed fled the four chaise horses, making the vehicle bounce from the earth as though it were composed entirely of springs; but they were no match for the full-blooded animals of the cavalry, and the latter soon came up with them.

"'Stop, in the name of the Czar,' said the leader, drawing his sword.

"At the command, the postillions dropped their reins, and the chaise came to a dead halt. Then the door was burst open; and Nicholas, with a pistol in each hand, sprang into the road.

"'Gentlemen,' he said hurriedly, 'you must allow me to proceed; the die is cast, and there is no turning back. Stand aside, sirs, I do not wish to shed your blood.'

"'Colonel Dimitri,' answered the leader, 'we are sorry that such is our duty, but the Czar has ordered us to apprehend you and your companion; and carry you before him; I therefore apprehend you in the name of Czar.'

"'This is tyranny and I will resist it to the last,' exclaimed the excited lover. 'I have not broken the laws, and am no political criminal. Why should I be treated thus? You may take me gentlemen, but not alive.'

"'We must do our duty,' answered the other. 'Surround and disarm him,' he added, turning to his followers.

"The soldiers approached to obey his orders, and the desperate colonel had levelled his weapons, when Olinska, sprang from the chaise and knelt upon the ground before him.

"'Submit, Nicholas; for my sake submit,' she exclaimed, energetically, clasping her hands towards him.

"Nicholas regarded her attentively for a moment, and then lowered his weapons.

"'I am your prisoner,' he said; 'take me where you will.'

"The captured pair, were returned to the vehicle, the horses' heads were turned, and in silence they proceeded to the palace of the Czar.

"The imperial mansion was very different in those days from what it now is. No gaudy trappings, neither external nor internal, proclaimed the abode of royalty; for Peter the Great appealed to hearts, not the eyes of his subjects, and for the inspection of foreigners he had an army, unrivaled in discipline and accoutrements, by any in Europe. A small ante-chamber, plainly furnished, and adorned with various models of ships, paintings, and rude implements of warfare led into the hall of audience, equally unostentatious, and the imperial dining saloon, plain as that of an ordinary tradesman.

"Into the latter apartment, Nicholas and Olinska were led by their captors, pale and silent, but undismayed.

"A long table, bearing on its centre an immense pie, was loaded with a rich repast; and about it, were seated the most distinguished nobles and generals of the empire, and Admiral Praxin; while at its head, on elevated seats, appeared the Czar and Czarina.

"'Ha! here are the two fugitives!' exclaimed Peter, observing the entrance of the party and approaching them.

"Nicholas started at the sound of that voice, and looking up, recognized in his sovereign, The Little Man in Green.

"'Your pardon, sire!' he exclaimed falling upon his knees, and remembering with the great trepidation how scurvily he had treated royalty in disguise.

"'Arise, Colonel Dimitri,' said the Czar kindly; 'you need not think of what has past; I am satisfied that you are a true and loyal subject. But what possessed you to run away with this little rebel, man? Did you not know that she was affianced to Admiral Praxin?'

"'Pardon me sire, I did not,' answered Nicholas.

"'And you Olinska; you have disregarded our wishes, and thrown the gallant admiral overboard?' continued Peter, addressing the trembling girl, with a mixture of severity and good-nature.

"Olinska bowed her head.

"'What say you Praxin? Are you willing to yield your bride to the army, and let the navy remain a bachelor?'

"The Admiral had turned all colors, at the first entrance of Olinska, but marking that she remained silent, he plucked up sufficient courage to reply.

"'I cannot accept the lady's hand without her heart.'

"'Did you sue for them like a man?' demanded Peter, sternly.

"'I hope so, your majesty.'

"'You lie, base traitor!' thundered the Czar, eyeing him with a glance that chilled his blood.

"'Has she betrayed me?' ejaculated Praxin, turning deadly pale, and involuntarily clutching the handle of his sword.

"'No,' answered Peter in hoarse tones, 'witness, come forth.'

"At that moment, the upper covering of the great pie was observed to move, and in another instant, it was thrown back, discovering the mighty Orloff, seated within the dish.

"'God save the Czar!' said the dwarf, rising and stepping forth upon the table, with a bow of studied politeness.

"'Orloff, point out the traitor,' said Peter.

"Orloff assumed an air of great penetration, and pointed toward the Admiral, who stood alone, with his back against the wall, a perfect picture of despairing guilt.

"'That is the man,' said the dwarf.

"'Give your proof.'

"'Your majesty must know, that I was present while Admiral Praxin was wooing the lady Olinska, and heard him say that your majesty dared not offend him; he also declared that she had but to say the word, and he would make her an Empress, explaining how he had the Poles, the Serfs, the Swedish refugees, and the navy at his command, ready at his bidding to make him Emperor of Russia.'

"'What say you to this charge?' demanded Peter.

"Praxin had regained somewhat of composure during the dwarf's speech; and at its conclusion he approached the Czar and falling upon his knees, surrendered his sword and belt.

"'I am guilty,' he said, in firm tones. 'Take my sword, gracious sovereign, and with it receive back the commission I have forever disgraced. In a moment of ungovernable passion I spoke words which should have choked me ere I uttered them, and which I would give my life to recall. I desire no mercy; yet I would ask forgiveness of Olinska, for daring to breathe treason in her presence.'

"'Let us both forget it,' said Olinska, gently.

"'Alas I can never forget it,' he replied, pressing her hands to his lips, and resuming his former attitude.

"The Czar gazed some moments attentively and silently upon the face of Praxin, as though to read his inmost soul, and then turning to Nicholas, he said:

"'Colonel Dimitri, it is but just that I should explain my conduct to you and Olinska, as it was by making an unconscious tool of you that I have ferreted this matter out. I intended that Olinska should have wedded the Admiral, not knowing that her affections had been given to another; but lately I have distrusted him and ordered a spy of the police to watch him closely. My agent speedily brought me news of your engagement, and your intended course; and I resolved to throw myself in your way, and gain a slight knowledge of your character. You know how I succeeded in that attempt. I also requested Olinska to receive the Admiral privately, and sent Orloff to be present—though concealed—at the interview. The Countess Walewski was made acquainted with my plans, by the dwarf, and hence your presence here. As a punishment for an attempt to outwit me, I command that you be married before you leave the palace. As for you, Admiral,' he continued, turning to Praxin, 'in consideration of the many services you have rendered us, I grant you a free pardon. You have been humiliated in the eyes of your friends, and have failed to win a prize worthy of my best subject. May you learn the lesson that passion will not always excuse dangerous words, nor is a sovereign's leniency everlasting.'

"Universal rejoicings followed this generous speech, and the victims of the royal whim retired from the imperial palace, married—for better or worse."

This Russian tale sent us all home very thirsty, my boy; for its effect was very dry.

Yours, weariedly, Orpheus C. Kerr.

LETTER LXXIV.

CONCERNING THE SERIOUS MISTAKE OF THE VENERABLE GAMMON, THE CHAPLAIN'S POETICAL DISCOVERY, THE PROMOTION OF COMMODORE HEAD, AND THE RECEPTION OF THE PRESIDENT'S PROCLAMATION BY THE SOUTHERN CONFEDERACY.

Washington, D. C., October 12th, 1862.

The Southern Confederacy having delayed to sue for peace, my boy, until the safety of Washington requires that national strategy should continue metaphysical hostilities, it may be as well for you and me as a nation to prepare for a speedy commencement of War in earnest. The North, my boy, has not begun to fight yet; and as the stolid centuries roll on, and the hoary years move one by one into the sunless solitude of Eternity, it becomes daily more evident that the North's actual putting forth of all its strength is merely a question of time. The giant is only just rousing from his slumbers, and nothing but his legs and feet appear to be thoroughly awake yet.

Now, is the time, my boy, for the idiotic Confederacy to save himself, by returning penitently to that beneficent Government which would have realized the millenium at half-past two o'clock on the Fourth of July, 1776, but for the unseemly villainy of the accursed Black Republicans, many of whom are shortly to be hung.

That is to say, such is the opinion of the Venerable Gammon, whose benignant presence is believed to have proved the salvation of our distracted country in the Revolutionary War, though I can find nothing, except his protecting patriarchal deportment toward all the present universe, to justify the idea that he ever benefited anything. It soothes the human soul, my boy, to hear this Venerable man discoursing on the most trite subjects in tones, and with an air calculated to bless all created things as with a paternal benediction. Surrounded by a number of his idolatrous national children, and standing in front of Willard's the other evening, he pointed fatly to a bright star overhead, and says he:

"That star is like our country. That star," says the Venerable Gammon, with a meaningless smile of angelic purity, "is like any other star on our flag; though clouds may hide it in its ascending node, it is still knowed to be ascending."

Then everybody felt cheered with the peaceful conviction that Columbia was saved at last; and it's my private belief, my boy—my private belief, that the attached populace looked upon this good old man as the one who had made the star.

Yet, strange as it may seem, this venerable Benefactor made a little mistake on Tuesday. A sportive young chap came to him with a newspaper in his hand, and says he: "Let me see if you can tell, my Pater Patria, what paper this article is in"—and proceeded to read the following high-minded editorial:

"TREASON OF THE BLACK REPUBLICANS.

"True to their foul instincts, the Greely, Cheever, and Wendell Phillips herd of treasonable fanatics are now accusing their 'Honest Old Abe' of ruining the country. It was their votes that elected the rail-splitter, and now they turn tail upon him and howl maledictions because he will not carry out their fiendish intents by erecting a revolutionary guillotine in every Northern town and city. That blasphemous mountebank, Beecher, may as well cease his treasonable impiety at once; for he and his Sharps'-rifle crew are responsible for the present bankruptcy of the whole country, and the people will yet hold them to strict account for every drop of blood that has been and will be shed in this unnatural strife."

When sportive chap ceased reading, the Venerable Gammon waved his obese hand with the fond, familiar air of a pleased benignity, and says he:

"Of course, I know what paper that is, my son. I know the ring of those sterling conservative sentiments," says the Venerable Gammon, with calm satisfaction, "and am blessed in the knowledge that our loyal New York Herald is still true to the Constitution and to the principles of my old friend, Georgey Washington—or 'old Wash,' as he permitted me to call him."

The sportive chap softly picked his teeth with a wisp from a broom, and says he: "But this ain't the Herald at all, you dear old soul; it's a copy of the Richmond Whig!" It was at this very moment, my boy, that the Venerable Gammon was first attacked by that dreadful cough which put an end to all further conversation, and has since excited the most fearful apprehensions lest a bereaved country should suddenly be called to mourn the untimely loss of its benign idol.

On Tuesday afternoon, I had a talk with the Mackerel chaplain, who had remained here over Sunday to administer consolation to a dying brigadier, and was grievously wounded in spirit to find that the telegraph had committed a trifling breach of spelling, and that that brigadier was only dyeing his hair, which had suddenly turned white in a single night on the strength of a rumor that there might be some fighting in the morning.

The Mackerel chaplain, my boy, is of inestimable value to a wounded man, his vivid and spiritual manner of describing the celebrated Fire Department of the other world being a source of unspeakable comfort and reassurance to the sufferer. "I am afraid you have led a sinful life, my fellow-worm," says he to the sick Mackerel, "and can only advise you to buy one of these hymn-books from me, which I can afford to sell for six shillings."

But what the chaplain talked to me about, was his discovery, at a village not far from Winchester, of a new

"PICCIOLA."

It is with infinite satisfaction, my boy, that I record the recognition of Commodore Head's priceless services on Duck Lake by the Secretary of the Navy. Our grim old son of Neptune is created Rear-Admiral, with the privilege of snubbing gunboat captains, receiving serenades, attending launches, and lavishing untold scorn upon the feeble imitations of affrighted Europe.

Hence, there would appear to be an imperative demand in current literature for an authoritative

SKETCH OF COMMODORE HEAD.

This venerable ornament of our peerless naval service, to whom the eyes of the whole world are now directed, was born of one of his parents at an early period of his existence, and has since incurred the years temporarily elapsing between that epoch and the present auspicious occasion. The subject of our brief biography entered the navy when he was only fifty years old, as commander of the Mackerel iron-plated squadron on Duck Lake, where he became widely noted for success in fishing, as well as for his skill in eluding vessels running the blockade. At one time, indeed, he came very near capturing a Confederate ram, being only prevented by failing to find the key of the box containing his spectacles in time to reconnoiter the wily foe. Commodore Head's conversation concerning the speedy capture of Vicksburg, Charleston, Savannah and Mobile, is instructive to all minds, and his promotion is an event calculated to prove that the war is about to begin in earnest.

Rear-Admirals, my boy, are an aristocratic institution; and their creation must serve to convince besotted Europe, that in making a naval distinction between rank and file, our discriminating Government knows how to compromise matters by bestowing a new rank upon an old file.

It was on Wednesday that my architectural steed, the Gothic Pegasus, renewed his usual weekly journey to desolated Accomac, cheerfully conveying me thither at a speed that did not keep the same roadside house in view more than half an hour at a time. Having hitched the funereal stallion to a copy of Senator Sumner's recent Faneuil Hall speech, believing that document sufficiently heavy to hold him, I gave him a discarded straw-hat of mine for his dinner, and strolled into the Mackerel camp.

To the everlasting disgrace of our rulers be it said, my boy, I found the devoted Mackerel Brigade progressing toward deep suffering at a rate which made me thank Heaven that I owned no chickens within sight of the harrowing scene. Being thoughtlessly supplied with three days' rations at a time, these neglected martyrs incur all the perils of suffocation and cruel nightmare by doing nothing on the first day but eat from morning till night, what is left over at midnight being used to pelt each other with. Then for two whole days these gallant men who are fighting our battles find famine staring them in the face, and I actually heard one emaciated Mackerel chap offering a whole week's pay to another Mackerel chap for a Confederate cracker which he had picked up in a field, wishing to consign that cracker to his friends at home as a sample of the unnatural food with which an ungrateful Republic feeds its faithful soldiers. I even found many Mackerels without knapsacks and blankets, which they had lost in adventures at "Old Sledge"; and there was that in the countenances of others which sured me that their poor faces had not been washed since the commencement of the war!

My soul turns sick at these things, my boy, and they even have an effect upon a beholder's stomach. To think that our noble volunteers, our country's preservers, should be subjected to sufferings in which they have not even the poor consolation of knowing that somebody else than themselves is responsible therefor.

Reflectively I turned from the scene of agony, and had rambled some fifteen minutes in an adjacent bit of woods, when the sound of voices near by made me stop short behind a tree and peer eagerly through an opening in the nearest thicket.

Seated just beyond some evergreen bushes were four dilapidated Confederacies, solemnly discussing the great Emancipation Proclamation of our Honest Abe; whilst close by them, and astride of a mossy stone, was the accomplished swordsman, Captain Munchausen, frantically, and with many hiccups, endeavoring at one and the same time to catch a phantom fly and maintain his equestrian position.

One of the Confederacies took a bite from a cold potato which he held in his hand, and, says he:

"I reckon that it's near time for the unsubjugated South to adopt Retaliatory measures, and proclaim that all prisoners hereafter taken by the Confederacy shall be previously shot and made into bone-ornaments."

Here Captain Munchausen burst into an unseemly peal of laughter as he made another wild clutch at the phantom-fly, and says he:

"Wher—where's Mary's—ary's—snuff-box?"

Not perceiving that this special remark was relevant to the question in view, a second Confederacy merely tightened the string which held his inexpressibles in place, and, says he:

"What has been proposed by the Honorable Gentleman from the Alms House is not sufficiently severe. No mercy should be shown to the Washington demon, and I move that any Federal soldiers found disturbing a Confederacy during the progress of a battle shall be at once executed for arson."

The impression created by this motion extended even to Captain Munchausen, who fell flat on his face in a frantic attempt to catch the spectral insect, and exclaimed, in tones of awful solemnity:

"I don't want (hic) to be marri—ry—arried—Hic!"

After a moment's pause, the third Confederacy finished buttoning his coat with a bit of corn-cob, and says he:

"I move that the last Resolution be amended, to make it a capital crime for any person whatever to be guilty of Federal extraction."

Now, it chanced, my boy, that there was a Mackerel picket eating a confiscated watermelon in a clump of bushes close behind me; and just at this crisis of the debate, he casually tossed a piece of the rind in the direction of the Confederacies. It happened to fall in their midst, whereupon the enraged statesmen were seized with great tremblings, and immediately skedaddled in all directions, the last being Captain Munchausen, who at first endeavored to carry a rock of some hundred pounds' weight away with him, and ultimately retreated in a highly-circuitous manner, with an expression of abject despair under his cap.

It is said, my boy, that the celebrated Confederacy will resent the Proclamation by raising the Black Flag. It is a common belief, that if such be the case, it will be the duty of our generals to raise the blacks without flagging.

Yours, if it come to that, Orpheus C. Kerr.

LETTER LXXV.

SETTING FORTH THE FALSE AND TRUE ASPECTS OF BEAMING OLD AGE RESPECTIVELY, AND SHOWING HOW THE UNBLUSHING CONFEDERACY MADE ANOTHER RAID.

Washington, D. C., October 19th, 1862.

It is a beautiful and improving thing, my boy, to see the wise and polished mob of a great nation paying unmitigated reverence to fussy gray hairs, and much shirt collar; and hence I never grew tired of considering the dignified case of the Venerable Gammon, whom everybody regards as the benign paternal relative of his country. When I see Generals, Senators, and other proprietors of Government property, hanging breathlessly upon the words of this sublime old man, just as though such words were so many gallows, I feel the cause of Justice typified to my mind's eye, and am myself enthusiastic enough to believe that hanging is too good for them. Whether at Willard's, the White House, the Capitol, or in his native Mugville, the Venerable Gammon is ever the same beneficent being, beaming blandly upon the whole universe from above his ruffles, and paternally permitting it to exist in his presence.

The precise thing he has done in his fearfully long lifetime, my boy, to beget such an agony of love and worship from everybody, has not yet come to the immediate knowledge of anybody; but he is the moss-grown oracle of the United States of America, and it gives me unspeakable satisfaction to reproduce as follows, his benign letter of advice to the idolized General of the Mackerel Brigade:

Mugville, July 4, 1776.

Dear Sirrah,—Justly regarding you as the next President of the United States, and an honored successor of my old friend, Georgey Washington, I deem it proper, by reason of my great importance and infirmities, to repeat in writing with a pen what I have before spoken to you with my tongue—this supplement to my printed views (dated April the First) on the highly inflamed condition of our glorious and distracted Union.

To meet the expectations of a populace admiring my venerable shape, I deem it consistent with my retiring modesty and infirmities to dictate to you the four plans you may pursue by way of making yourself President of our distracted Commonwealth in 1865.

I.—Throw off the old and assume a new designation—the sly old party; give the South entire control of the whole country, and, my wig upon it, we shall have no secession; but, on the contrary, an early return of the entire Confederacy to Washington. Without some equally benignant measure, we shall be compelled to fight all the Border States and put them down at once, instead of keeping two hundred thousand soldiers peaceably employed in making their loyalty continually sure.

II.—Collect the war taxes outside of the States where the tax-payers live, or declare upon paper that they are already collected.

III.—Conquer the seceded States by the unheard-of agency of an actual army. I think this might be done in a few hundred years by a young and able general to be found on some railroad, with six hundred thousand disciplined spades. Estimating a third of this number to remain for ever stationary on the Potomac, and a loss of a still greater number by consummate strategy and changings of base. The loss of chickens and contrabands on the other side would be frightful, however great the morality of the mudsills.

This conquest would cost money that might otherwise go to beautify the South, secure fifteen swearing and deeply-offended provinces, and be immediately followed by a new election for President in 1865.

IV.—Say to the Seceded States, in one of which I own some mortgages: "How are you, Southern Confederacy?"

Deliberately, I remain, Your father and the country's, V. Gammon.

This touching letter, my boy, I recommend to your most prayerful consideration, as a paternal outpouring of shirt-collared old age.

Old age! how beautiful art thou in the glory of thy spectacles, and the sublime largeness of thy stomach and manner. And yet, would you believe it, my boy? I am sometimes possessed of great doubtings as to the genuineness of that majesty which makes a continually-looming Venerable Shape such a great blessing to an imperiled land. Sometimes there comes to me a rickety vision of:

AGE BLUNTLY CONSIDERED.

I exhibited that pleasing little poem to a Mackerel chap, who stuttered, my boy; and he came so near going into apoplexy through his endeavors to read it, that I was obliged to make a joke, in order that he might smile, relax, and recover.

And now let your mind fly, like a wearied dove, to the celebrated Arcadian scenes of festive Accomac, where the Mackerel Brigade continues to reconnoitre in force, and awaits the death of the Confederacy by old age. Men, my boy, who entered this strategic war in the full bloom of youth, now go with stooping shoulders and tottering gait when they have a barrel of flour to carry, and the bloom has departed from every part of them save the extreme tip of that handle of the human countenance which first meets the edge of an open door in the dark. Even the Mackerel brass-band begins to grow feeble, often making pitiable attempts to execute stirring strains on his night key bugle, as though unconscious that by long disuse in his pocket it had become clogged with bread and cheese.

There is, on the Southern border of Accomac, my boy, a solitary house, containing furniture and the necessaries of life, which the Conic Section of the Mackerel Brigade had been ordered to guard. It stands immediately on the verdant banks of Awlkwyet River, where that stream must be at least ten inches deep; and as the first regular bridge is ten miles below it, of course the Conic Section, to guard the house, was placed at the end of that bridge—it being a principle of national strategy never to recognize any Confederate raid not made across a regular bridge.

Now it chanced, that while the Conic Section at the bridge was taking a short nap, having been up very late the night before; and while the beloved General of the Mackerel Brigade was visiting a portion of his beautiful home-circle in Paris, that a very dirty Confederacy, riding in a seedy go-cart, made his appearance on the bank of the river opposite the house, and commenced to make a raid right through the water to the shore this side. His geometrical steed wet his feet thereby, and the wheels of his squeaking vehicle were damped by this barbarian way of offering irregular opposition to the Government; but what cared he for the rules of civilized warfare, which are the only authorized West Point editions? Like all his infatuated countrymen, he was rendered less than strategic by the demon of Secession, and he crossed by the unmilitary ford instead of by the military bridge.

This is, indeed, heart-sickening.

There was a Mackerel chap who slept in the house to take care of a large black bottle, and when he heard the go-cart driving up before the door, he stuck his head out of the window, and says he:

"What is it which you would have in these irregular proceedings, Mr. Stuart?"

The Confederacy dismounted from his chariot, tied a bag of oats over his charger's head, and says he:

"I'm making a raid."

The Mackerel waved his hand southward, and says he:

"You'll find the bridge just below. Don't stay here," says the Mackerel, earnestly, "or you'll exasperate the North to fury."

Here the Confederacy made some remark in which the name of the North and a profane expletive were connected very closely, and proceeded to bring from the house a hobby-horse which stood in the hall. After placing this valuable article in his go-cart, he next brought out a cooking-stove; closely following this with some chairs, a dining-table, two feather beds, a tea-set, four wine-glasses and some tumblers, a looking-glass, four sheets, two cottage bedsteads, a Brussels carpet, and a Maltese cat. With these and a few other exceptions, my boy, he made no attempt to disturb private property; thereby proving that the President's Proclamation has already produced a wholesome effect in the degenerate South.

While this was going on, the vigilant Mackerel guard descended privately from a back window, and made a forced march to where the Conic Section were watching something which looked like a man in the Southern horizon—instantly making known the audacious raid of the thieving Confederacy, and asking whether the new levies of the Executive's last call were likely to arrive early enough to take measures for the prevention of the capture of Washington.

While the question was in debate, my boy, the beloved General of the Mackerel Brigade arrived with his trunk and umbrella from Paris, and having caused it to be telegraphed to all the reliable morning journals that the Confederacy were now in a fair way to be captured alive, he at once took measures to cut off the retreat of the latter. Captain Villiam Brown, with Company 3, Regiment 5, was at once ordered to construct a pontoon bridge across the river some miles below, and watch it vigilantly day and night; Captain Bob Shorty and Colonel Wobert Wobinson, with the Anatomical Cavalry, were dispatched to take possession of a railroad leading to Manassas; whilst Captain Samyule Sa-mith with the balance of the Conic Section, was commanded to make a detour of three hundred miles, and endeavor to reach the invaded house before midwinter set in.

All these movements were in accordance with profound strategy, my boy, and cut off the Confederacy from retreat by every route in the world, except the insignificant one he came by.

Satisfied that the war was going to end in about sixty days, after which we should have time to defeat combined Europe, the Mackerel guard hastened back to the domicil, which he reached just in time to find the Confederacy topping his go-cart with some kindling-wood from the cellar.

I regret to say, my boy—I blush for my species as I make the incredible revelation—that upon receiving the information of his surrounding and probable strategic capture by the vigilant Mackerel Brigade, the irreverent Confederacy burst into a hideous horse-laugh, and at once proceeded to appropriate the poor Mackerel chap's own shoes and stockings. With the deepest horror I record, that he also tweaked the Mackerel's nose.

"I did not intend this as a permanent invasion," says the impious Confederacy, as he remounted his go-cart and turned his geometrical Arabian toward the water again; "but I have just married a daughter of South Carolina—one of two twins—and reckoned that I needed some things to set up housekeeping. Farewell, foul Hessian," says the Confederacy, as he splashed through the water to the opposite bank—"fare thee well, and tell your fiendish ruler, that it is somewhat impossible to conquer the sunny South."

The Mackerel chap gazed thoughtfully after the go-cart as it disappeared on the other side of the balmy Awlkwyet stream, and says he: "Rail on, my erring brother; but if you'd only stayed here one more week, you might not have escaped thus for seven whole days. Had the army been insufficient to secure you," says the Mackerel to himself, "had the army been insufficient to secure you, why, there's the police."

Raids, my boy, are so intrinsically irregular in their character, that no provision can be made for them in a regular army; hence they are sometimes necessitated to take provisions for themselves as they go on.

Yours, radiantly, Orpheus C. Kerr.

LETTER LXXVI.

REFERRING TO THE MOSQUITO AS A TEST OF HUMAN NATURE, EXPLAINING THE LONG HALT OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE, AND NOTING THE COURT OF INQUIRY ON CAPTAIN VILLIAM BROWN.

Washington, D. C., October 26th, 1862.

Early this morning, my boy, I sauntered across the Long Bridge and took my seat upon the topmost rail of a fence enclosing a trampled meadow. There I sat, like Marius, my boy, contemplating the architectural ruin embodied in my Gothic steed, Pegasus, and ever and anon whistling abstractedly to my frescoed dog, Bologna.

By the gods! I really love these dumb friends of mine. The speculative eye of the world sees in poor Pegasus nothing more than an architectural dream—the church architecture of the future—and, I must confess, my boy, that the Gothic charger does look something like a skeleton chapel at a distance; it sees in Bologna only a mongrel cur, whose taste for the calves of human legs is an epicurean outrage on walking society. But for me, my boy, there is a human pathos in the patient fidelity of these zoological curiosities which appeals to my best manhood. I have had a hard and thankless life of it; my experience with the knowing political chaps of the Sixth Ward was enough to grind everything like human tenderness out of my nature, and make me turn into an arrogant and contemptuous misanthrope; but there are times when the cold nose of Pegasus against my cheek, or a wag from that speaking tail of Bologna—which curls up behind him like a note of interrogation, to ask how his master feels—will give me such a sensation of wishing to protect and be kind to the Helpless, that I feel myself a better man for the practical Christianity of such humble society.

There is my mosquito, the youthful Humboldt, too! He came to me one night, about two years ago, my boy, practising much profound strategy to capture my nose; and when I foiled him by a free use of both arms of the service, the unterrified and humming manner in which he changed the base of his operations and came on again, excited my admiration and respect. Catching him in a little net cage made from the musquito bars of my bed, I kept him safely by me, and now use him as a test of human nature. In God's providence, each minute created thing has its appointed use, my boy, and depend upon it, the use of the musquito is to test human nature.

There was a veteran political chap from Albany called upon me last Sunday night. A sage and aged chap of infinite vest, who wears the broad-brimmed hat of reticent respectability, and nestles in much shirt-collar like a centuried owl. Having taken a pinch of snuff after the dirty manner of a Gentleman of the Old School, he merely paused to take a hasty glance at the plan for the next Senatorial election in his note book, and then says he:

"I'm grievously dis'pointed, yea, piteously vexed, to see the partisan spirit raging so furiously in State elections, at a time when an expiring country calls upon all her sons, irrespective of party, to join hands in the great work of saving her. Why cannot these turbulent denouncers of each other be like me, who recognize no division of party in this national crisis? I would have a union of all men to vote for the one great ticket of my choice; and even the democrat I would recognize as a fellow being in such a case."

I suspected this grievous old chap to be a hypocrite, my boy, and I managed to let Humboldt free from his cage for the purpose of testing him. As the aged chap commenced to get warm, Humboldt began to make raids round his sagacious head, and with divers slaps in the air, the aged chap waxed spirited, and says he;

"Pshoo! pshoo!—As I was saying, we should all strive to conciliate our political adversaries—pshoo! and endeavor to promote a spirit of unity even with the most disaffected peace men—pshoo, you beast!—and not act like Greeley and Wendell Phillips, and Beecher—confound it, pshoo!—and other infernal fanatics; who, by their indiscreet, imprudent—curse it, pshoo!—and infernal, God-forsaken niggerism, are wounding the tenderest feelings—thunder and lightning, pshoo!—and rousing the hellish passions of really good democrats, who thereby make capital from their sadly mistaken—blazes and blue lightning, pshoo!—and devilish craziness, which is unfortunately confusing—good heavens, pshoo, pshoo!—and damning their own party, and knocking thunder out of the gubernatorial canvass; besides—besides—"

Here this aged chap made a flying leap at Humboldt, missed his aim, and then dashed madly from the room.

Depend upon it, my boy, a musquito is a great test of human nature. The little chap operates like an outside conscience, and brings the real thing to the surface.

Why does not the Mackerel Brigade advance?

This, my boy, is the question of the hour. For what do our heroes wait? Is it for india-rubbers, or umbrellas, or fine-tooth combs? No! be not deceived: it is for none of these.

Hem! The fact is, my boy, many respectable though married Mackerels entered the army of the Accomac when they were in the prime of life; and as old age steals softly upon them, as the seasons and the bases of operations run through their changes, and year succeeds year, the eye-sight of many of them waxes dim, and fails in the process of Nature. I know some thousands of Mackerels, my boy, who are already so blind that they have not seen a rebel for six months; and hence, no advance-movement can be judiciously made until the brigade is supplied with spectacles. Without these, the idolized General of the Mackerel Brigade will not do anything until he gets ready. It was the want of these, as I now discover, that prevented our troops seeing the Southern Confederacy when he made his late raid across Awlkwyet River. Let the spectacles be at once procured, my boy; or an indignant and bleeding nation will at once demand a change in the Cabinet.

Company 3, Regiment 5, is the only Company yet fitted with glasses, and was therefore selected to make a reconnoissance toward Paris, under Colonel Wobert Wobinson, on Tuesday afternoon, for the purpose of discovering whether the Confederacies there were very tired of waiting yet. Glaring through their spectacles, these gallant beings advanced until they met a Parrot shell going the other way, and then returned with hasty discipline, bringing with them a captured contraband, who was so anxious to remain in their company that he actually ran very fast.

Upon regaining the camp in Accomac, my boy, the colonel had the intelligent contraband brought before him, and says he:

"If I mistake not, friend Africa, you were escaping from the bonds of oppression when we took you?"

The intelligent contraband shifted a silver soup-ladle from one pocket to the other, and says he:

"Yes, mars'r colonel, I hab left my ole mars'r for de good of his bressed soul." Here the attached bondman sniffed and shook his head.

"Are you pious?" says Colonel Wobinson, much affected by such an example of humble devotion.

"Yes, mars'r I is dat," says the fond creature, wiping his brow with a silk vest from his dress-coat pocket, "and I wished to save my ole mars'r from de sin of de wicked. I know dat it was wrong for him to own niggas, and dat he was more sinful de more he done it. And I run away, Mars'r Colonel, to save dat ole man's bressum soul from any more dam."

Colonel Wobinson took off his spectacles in order that the steam from his tears might not dim them, and says he:

"I had not looked for this in one so black. Leave those silver spoons with me, friend Africa, and I will send them to my wife. Sergeant, convey this dark being, who has taught us all such a lesson of self-sacrifice, to the chaplain; and tell the chaplain to look out for his pocket."

How beautiful is it, my boy, to see in the uncouth, unlettered slave, a spirit of piety so shiningly practical. When I beheld the brutalized bondman evince such signs of religion, I am reminded of those tender and precocious little babes, who sometimes delight their mothers with exalted utterances of the like, and am inclined to believe that one knows just as much about it as the other does.

It pains me to say, my boy, that Captain Villiam Brown so far forgot himself on Wednesday, upon discovering the non-arrival of the spectacles, that he used language of an incendiary description against the beloved General of the Mackerel Brigade, thereby proving himself to be one of those crazy fanatics who are trying to ruin our distracted country. He said, my boy, that the adored General of the Mackerel Brigade was a dead-beat, and furthermore observed that he would be very sorry to take his word.

Such language could not pass unnoticed, and a Court of Inquiry, composed of Captains Bob Shorty, Samyule Sa-mith, and Colonel Wobert Wobinson, was instantly called. The Court had a decanter and tumbler only, to aid its deliberations, it being determined by the War Department that no fact which could be detected even by the aid of a glass, should go uninspected.

Villiam having been summoned to the presence, Samyule declared the Court in session, and says he:

"The sad duty has become ours, to investigate certain charges against a brother in arms which has heretofore been the mirror of chivalry. It is specified against him:

"'First—That said Captain Villiam Brown, Eskevire, did affirm, declare, avow, testify, and articulate, with his tongue, licker, and organ of speech, that the General of the Mackerel Brigade was a dead-beat.

"'Second—That aforesaid Captain Villiam Brown, Eskevire, did proclaim, utter, enunciate, fulminate and swear, that he would not take the word of the General of the Mackerel Brigade.'

"What has the culprit to say to these charges? Did he say that our idolized Commander was a dead-beat?"

Villiam smiled calmly, and says he: "The chaste remark exactly fits the orifice of my lips."

"Confine yourself to English," says Colonel Wobinson, majestically. "What do you mean by the observation?"

"Why," says Villiam, pleasantly, "I meant, that before he was beaten he must be dead. And after death, you know," says Villiam, reaching one hand abstractedly toward the decanter, "after death, you know, we must all b'eaten by worms."

This explanation, my boy, was satisfactory, and conveyed a grave moral lesson; but the court felt convinced that the second charge could not be thus simply answered.

Captain Samyule Sa-mith set down the tumbler for a moment, and says he:

"You're not guilty on the first count, Villiam; but didn't you say that you wouldn't take the word of the General of the Mackerel Brigade?"

"Which I did," says Villiam.

"And what excuse have you to offer, my trooper?" says Captain Bob Shorty, pointing the question with his spoon.

"Is the general a gentleman?" says Villiam, searchingly.

The court believed him to be such.

"Ah!" says Villiam, "then if he's a gentleman, he always keeps his word, and of course it is impossible to take it."

Verdict of "not guilty, with a recommendation to mercy."

Courts of Inquiry, my boy, are calculated to draw out the rich humor of military character, and are equally useful and appropriate with all other jokes, in times of devastating war.

Yours, smilingly, Orpheus C. Kerr.

LETTER LXXVII.

SHOWING WHAT EFFECT DEMOCRATIC TRIUMPHS HAVE UPON THE PRESIDENT, NOTING OUR CORRESPONDENT'S STRANGE MISTAKE ABOUT A BRITISH FLAG, AND INDICATING THE STRAGETIC ADVANCE OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE.

Washington, D. C., November 7th, 1862.

The late election in New York, my boy, has electrified everybody except our Honest Abe, who still goes about smiling, like a long and amiable sexton, and continues to save our distracted country after the manner of an honest man. On Tuesday night, a high moral Democratic chap, of much watch-seal, who had just received a dispatch all about the election, went to see the Honest Abe, for the express purpose of telling him that the Democratic party had been born again, and was on the point of protesting against everything whatsoever, except the Constitution of our forefathers. He found the Honest Abe cracking some walnuts before the fire, my boy, and says he:

"The celebrated Democratic organization, of which I am Assistant Engineer, has carried the State of New York in a manner impossible to express, and will now proceed to demand of you a vigorous prosecution of that unnatural strife in which are involved our lives, our liberties, and the pursuit of happiness. We admire to see your harmless honesty," says the chap, blandly, "and we believe you to be a fresh egg; but we protest against the arbitrary arrest of men which is patriots, only conservatively Democratic; and we insist upon a vigorous prosecution of Constitutional hostilities against our misguided brothers who are now offering irregular opposition to the Government."

The Honest Abe cracked a walnut, and says he: "You say, neighbor, that the organization still insists upon a vigorous prosecution of the war?"

The Democratic chap sliced a toothpick from the arm of the chair with his knife, and says he: "That is the present platform on which we are E pluribus unum."

"Well," says the Honest Abe, "I believe that you mean well; but am reminded of a little story.

"When I was practicing law out in Illinois," says the Honest Abe, twisting the bow of his black necktie around from under his left ear, "there was an old cock, with two sons, living near me in a tumble-down old shanty. He lived there until half his roof blew off one windy night, and then he concluded to move to a new house, where the chimney didn't take up all the upper story. On the day when he moved, he'd got most all his traps changed to the other residence, and had sent one of his sons to see that they were all got safely indoors, when suddenly a shower commenced to come up. The old man and his other offspring, who had stayed to hurry him, were taking up a carpet from the floor at the time the first dose of thunder cracked, and the offspring says he, 'Hurry up, old crazy-bones, or we'll be ketched in the freshet before you get up this here rich fabric.' The stern parent heeded the admonition, and went ripping away the carpet around the edges of the room, until he came near where the offspring was standing, and there it stuck. He pulled, but it wouldn't come, and he says, says he: ''Pears to me that dod-rotted tack must be a tenpenny nail—it holds on so.' You see, the old screw was very blind without his specs," says the Honest Abe, buttoning his vest askew, "and he couldn't see just where the tack was. Another peal of thunder at this moment made the irascible offspring still madder, and he says, says he: 'You misabul old cripple, if you don't hurry up we'll be ketched, I tell you!' As he made this dutiful remark he went stamping to the window, and at the same moment the cantankerous tack came out, and the aged parent went over on his back with the carpet up to his chin. He got up and dusted, and says he: 'Well, now, that is cur'ous—how suddent it went.' Then he proceeded to rip away again, until it came near the window, and there it stuck once more. The wild offspring saw him tugging again, and it made him so wrathy that he says, says he: 'Why in thunder didn't you take the nails out first, you crooked old sinner, you? It's enough to make me weep afresh for the old woman, to see how you—' But he didn't finish his observation; for, as he walked toward where the hammer lay, the tack came out, and the old 'un went to bed again under the carpet. Up sprang the sad parent, spitting rags, and he says, says he: 'Well now, how cur'ous—to think it should come so suddent!' Still on he went, until the carpet was all up from around the edges; but when he tried to draw it away on his shoulder, it was fast somewheres yet. R-r-rum-bum-boom! went the thunder; and says the infuriated offspring, says he: 'Well, I never did see such a blundering old dad as you be. We'll be ketched in the rain as sure as grasshoppers; and all because you didn't take my advice about the hammer in the first place.' The poor old 'un tugged, and pulled, and panted, and says he: 'Well, now, it is cur'ous, I swun to massey. There can't be no tacks way out in the middle of the floor here, can they?' To make sure, the old blind-pate was going down on his knees to take a mouse-eye view, when all of a sudden he gave a start, and he says, says he: 'Why, 'pears to me, Sammy, you're standin' on the carpet yourself!' And so he was—so he was," says the Honest Abe, smiling into the fire, "and that was the why the carpet had stuck fast in so many places."

"Now," says the Honest Abe, poking the Democratic chap in the ribs with his knuckles; "if your organization wants me to move vigorously in this war, tell them not to be standing on my carpet all the time. Otherwise, I must still keep tacking about."

The Democratic chap had been slowly rising from his chair as this small moral tale drew toward its exciting conclusion, and at the last word he fled the apartment with quivering watch-seal.

Our President, my boy, has a tale for every emergency, as a rat-trap has an emergency for every tail.

It was on the morning of this same day, that I had a pleasing conversation on the state of our foreign relations with a phlegmatic British chap connected with the English Ministry, who is remaining here for the purpose of beholding anarchy in the North, which he has been requested to immediately communicate to one of Great Britain's morning journals. We were taking Richmond together at Willard's, my boy, and had just been speaking of the English Southern pirate "Alabama" in terms of neutrality, when suddenly the phlegmatic chap drew a roll of silk from one of his pockets, fastened it to his cane, unfurled it before my eyes, and says he:

"By the way, sir, 'ow do you like this ere h'original h'idea of mine? Do you see what it is?"

"Yes, friend Bifstek," says I, Frenchily, "that is indeed the Black Flag."

The chap turned very red in the face, my boy, and says he: "The Black Flag! what a 'orrible h'idea! You must be thinking of the h'Alabama. What h'induces you to suppose such a thing!"

"Why," says I, "there's the Skull and Crossbones plain enough."

"Skull and Crossbones!!" says he, "why, that's the beautiful Hinglish crest—a crown and sceptres; and this is my new h'original design, ye know, for a new Hinglish Revenue Flag."

It was then, my boy, that I discovered my error, and apologized for my obliquity of vision. It was strange, indeed, that I should mistake for a skull the insignia of royalty, even though a crown is not unfrequently found identified with a numskull.

On the same Tuesday, my boy, there was a small election in a town just this side of Accomac, and I went down there early in the morning, to the office of the excellent independent evening journal, that I might see the returns as soon as they came in. The editor was talking to two chaps—a Republican and a Democrat—and, says he:

"The organ which my humble talents keep a-going is strictly independent, and I have no choice of candidates. I care only for my country, one and individual," says the editor, touchingly, "and can make no arbitrary discrimination of mere parties; but as you both advertise your tickets in my moral journal, a sense of duty may induce me to favor the side whose advertisement weighs the most."

After this gentle insinuation, my boy, each chap hastily commenced to write his advertisement. The Republican inscribed his upon a very heavy piece of brown wrapping-paper to make it weighty; but the Democrat selected a plain bit of foolscap, only putting in a hundred-dollar Treasury Note, to keep it from blotting.

When the editor came to look at the two, he coughed slightly, and says he: "I have always been a Democrat."

"But my advertisement certainly weighs the most," says the Republican chap, hotly.

The editor ate a chestnut, and says he: "Not in an intellectual sense, my friend."

"My paper is twice as heavy as his," says the chap; "and as to the Treasury Note, I had some scruples—"

"There!" says the editor, interruptingly, "you tell the whole story, my friend. In the temple of a free and reliable press, as well as elsewhere, some scruples bear very little proportion in weight to one hundredweight."

The American press, my boy, might occasionally adopt as an appropriate motto, the present Napoleon's observation, that "L'Empire c'est la PAY."

Turning from intellectual matters, let me glance at our country's hope and pride, the Mackerel Brigade, each member of whom feels confident of ultimately crushing out this hideous Rebellion as soon as national strategy shall have revealed the present whereabouts of the affrighted Confederacy. Last week, my boy, the Brigade moved gorgeously from Accomac, headed by the band, who played exciting strains upon his night-key bugle; and was only fired upon from the windows of wayside houses by helpless women, against whom the United States of America do not make war.

Woman, my boy, is the most helpless of God's creatures; and is so far from having power to help any other being, that she even can't help being herself sometimes.

The sun shone brightly down upon the spectacles of the ancient Mackerels as they once more took the road toward Paris; and as the light was reflected from the glistening glasses upon the carmine noses of which they were astride, it seemed as though each warrior had a rose in the middle of his countenance to symbolize the beautiful idea, that they had all arose for their distracted country's preservation.

Captain Villiam Brown, mounted on his geometrical steed, Euclid, was conversing affably with Captain Bob Shorty, as they rode along together, when a Lieutenant of the Anatomical Cavalry came dashing toward him, and says he:

"Captain, there's something missing from the rearguard."

Villiam assumed a thoughtful demeanor, and says he: "Is it a miss fire?"

"No," says the Lieutenant, agitatedly: "but we miss two—"

"Not baggage wagons?" says Villiam, giving such a start that Euclid nearly fell upon his knees; "don't tell me that two wagons are missing."

"Why no," says the Lieutenant, with emotion, "it's not two wagons that we miss, but two Brigadiers."

"Ah!" says Villiam, fanning himself with his cap. "How you alarmed me. I thought at first that it was two wagons. Let the procession go on, and I'll send for two more Brigs the next time I have a friend going to Washington."

It would please me, my boy, to detail the further movements of the Mackerels, but the cause of strategy demands that I should say no more on that topic just at present.

The beloved General of the Mackerel Brigade was at Washington when he heard of the advance which his enemies would pretend that he did not lead in person, and says he to the messenger:

"Are my gallant children ready for a fight?"

"Much so," says the messenger.

"Is the weather clear, my child?"

"Salubrious."

"Thunder!" says the General, valorously. "Then I really believe that I must move my headquarters across the Potomac!"

The Potomac, my boy—to speak with all due reverence for sacred things—in the numerous backs and forths it so constantly imposes upon the military, would seem calculated to turn this war into another Crusade, and make all our heroes literal soldiers of the "cross."

Yours, metaphorically, Oepheus C. Kerr.

LETTER LXXVIII.

IN WHICH THE STORY TOLD BY THE GERMAN MEMBER OF THE COSMOPOLITAN CLUB IS DULY REPORTED.

Washington, D. C., November 12th, 1862.

Herr Tuyfeldock, my boy, the high-Dutch cosmopolitan, supernaturalized the last meeting of the club with his old-fashioned story of

HERMANN, THE DEMENTED.

"At the base of a lofty mountain, and overshadowed by its beetling cliffs, stood a rude hut, built of heavy logs, and surmounted by a roof, the eaves of which descended in broad scollops over the windows of the tenement, and gave it the appearance of a small boy wearing his father's hat. In the surrounding scenery there was a wild grandeur and magnificence with which no work of art would have been in keeping. Immediately in the rear of the humble habitation, abruptly rose one of a range known as the Hartz Mountains, stretching far away toward the west in waves of bright and shadowy emerald, as the light fell upon them, and covered with gloomy forests, peopled with unblest spirits by the legends of olden times. In front and on both sides, spreading out its vast expanse of verdant soil, until it appeared to meet with the horizon, was a noble plain, bearing scattered clumps of trees, through which a few isolated huts were discernable. It was like Light and Shade meeting, with the hut under the cliff to mark their boundaries.

"Evening had just begun to tint the fragrant air with her sombre hues, when a figure was apparent, moving over the plain in the direction of the lonely domicil, and, as it approached nearer, the muscular form and pleasing features of a young hunter were visible. He was exceedingly tall, yet symmetrical in every limb, and quick in his movements as a chamois on its native hills. His dress comprised a coat and leggins of blue material, ornamented with silver buttons, a pair of heavy boots, and a narrow-brimmed straw hat, from which a wolf's tail depended. He carried a long rifle, and a bag for small game swung, with a powder flask, or horn, at his side.

"Arriving in front of the hut, he paused a moment to examine some footprints on the soil, and then tapped gently at the door with the butt of his piece. In an instant it was opened by a beautiful girl, with light blue eyes, flaxen curls, and a complexion of pure red and white, who, though dressed in the coarsest attire, yet looked and shone a perfect goddess of the solitude.

"'Dearest Marcella,' exclaimed the hunter, seizing her extended hand, and carrying it to his lips with all the ardor of a lover.

"'I feared you were not coming to-night, Wilhelm,' answered Marcella, with a blush of pleasure, as she led him into the hut by the hand which she still retained.

"The apartment thus entered occupied the whole structure, save a portion apparently partitioned off with wolf skins; and a rude table, six chairs, and a goatskin covered couch, were the only articles of furniture it contained, excepting a few trophies of the chase hanging from the walls, and a woodman's axe placed over the mantel. The floor was composed of logs, and was very uneven, save directly opposite the fire-place, where a large flat stone was firmly imbedded in the earth; and a small oil lamp, swinging in chains from the arching roof above, gave forth a pale light which mingled imperceptibly with that of departing day in a mellow twilight.

"'Marcella,' said Wilhelm, as they sat beside each other on the couch, 'I can scarcely realize that you are the wild little fairy, with whom I used to explore the dark woods of haunted Hartz. I can remember, too, standing with you under the blighted pine, and relating old legends which I heard my father tell, while you listened with breathless attention, and looked like a startled chamois, when the wind rustled among the leaves.'

"'Those were happy days!' murmured Marcella.

"'They were, indeed!' continued Wilhelm, with enthusiasm—'yet why should infancy monopolize all the richest pleasures of life? As we grow older, our understanding becomes more clearly defined, and circumstances which rendered our childhood happy, should become more truly appreciated as blessings, instead of growing homely and irksome to us.'

"'It is because the matured mind requires a wider field for exercise,' said Marcella. 'When I used to roam with you in the forest or on the plain, those localities constituted our little world, and I cared for no other; but as my father taught me the learning of books, I awoke to a sense of uneasiness, and a consciousness of restricted liberty. The beautiful world of which I read became replete with attractions hitherto unknown to me, and I longed to quit these wild scenes, and behold the palaces of princes.'

"'So it was with me,' responded her lover. 'As you may remember, my parents hoarded up their little earnings, that I might enjoy the advantages of education, and I went to Gottingen with the feeling of one who was about to drink of pleasure at its fountain-head; but alas! Marcella, the wide world is like a piece of glass, which may sparkle in the distance with all the brilliancy of a diamond, and after leading us wildly onward, becomes the more worthless, for our endeavors to gain a closer view. I imagined that the learning of schools would confer happiness; it became mine, and I found it a mockery. I mixed with the rich, gay and gifted; but my object still eluded pursuit. Marcella, I became convinced that I left true happiness behind me, when I departed from home; and returned to its shelter, resolved to leave it no more. I tasted of the cup, and found it bitter.'

"'My father talks in that manner,' answered Marcella. 'He hates the world for the injury it has done him, and even our few neighbors excite his scorn, by their foolish fears of him. I am sure if they knew him well, they could not help loving him as I do; he is so noble, so brave, so generous, that I cannot understand why he is called "The Demented," unless it is because his superior intelligence is regarded by the hinds as a supernatural gift. Perhaps that is the reason,' she added, haughtily.

"'You wrong the honest peasants,' said the hunter, hastily; 'who, though ignorant, possess the gifts of reason and discrimination. Your father will not allow them to know him better, and the extraordinary quantity of game which he obtains would arouse superstitious whispers from more enlightened minds.'

"'Poor deluded creatures!' exclaimed Marcella, scornfully. 'Because my father's aim is truer than theirs, ought he to be looked upon as one demented? Because, by his skill in woodcraft, he surpasses their success, should they shun him with looks of horror? Because he refuses to join in their low revels, should they regard him as a ghost-seer? Wilhelm, you have learning, and ought to frown down these foolish superstitions, instead of partaking in them. Did you love Marcella as you have often sworn you do, the man who spoke evil of her parent, would from that moment become your enemy.'

"'And so he should, dearest Marcella; but alas! their suspicions are but too well founded, and though you may be offended, I dare not deny that I myself believe him to be in league with the Evil One.'

"'Then leave me!' exclaimed Marcella, starting from beside him. 'Why should you wish to wed the child of such a man? Might you not find a devil in me? Why should I love a being whose lips have declared my father a demon? Go! Wilhelm, I took you for a man; but you have the soul of a dwarf.'

"Her eyes flashed indignation as she spoke, and in the eyes of her lover she appeared more beautiful than ever.

"'I can forgive your reproaches, for I know them to be actuated by noble sentiments,' he replied, drawing her gently back to her seat. 'Honor to our parents is nature's first law, and God forbid that I should condemn it; but, dearest Marcella, there should be no reserve between us, who have grown up side by side, as it were, and I speak to you as I would to no one else—not even my parents. That I love you, you surely cannot doubt, and that love would be worth little to either of us, did it enjoin concealment of our true opinions from each other. I speak as an honest man, when I tell you, that I once beheld your father in the Black Forest, accompanied by a stranger, who was not of this world.'

"'Great God!' ejaculated Marcella, starting up with affright.

"'Forgive me, dearest; but you forced me to say it in my own defence. Calm yourself and we will talk of this fearful subject no longer.'

"'Wilhelm, you are not trifling with me?'

"'As I hope to be saved, no.'

"The daughter of Hermann trembled for a moment, as though the spirit of Fear had touched her, and the dim rays of the swinging lamp, as they fell upon her finely cut features, revealed the undisguised terror there betrayed. But she quickly settled rigidly as a marble effigy, and her voice was firm, as she said:

"'Wilhelm, I believe you, and may God help my unfortunate father. Tell me of what you saw, and disguise nothing!'

"'It were better to remain untold, Marcella.'

"'I must and will hear it,' she answered with cold determination.

"'Then it must be told,' said the young hunter, with an involuntary shudder. 'On the second day after my arrival from Gottingen University, I started out from my father's cot, to course hares, taking with me my dog and rifle, intending to remain absent all day. For some hours I was quite successful, and succeeded in killing a score of the fleet animals, but after noon they grew scarce, and as the sun was sinking in the west, I paused wearied and exhausted on the borders of the Black Forest, while my dog was panting in the shade. As I stood thus, leaning upon my gun, the sound of a bugle call fell upon my ears, and almost immediately afterwards your father suddenly passed me in the direction from whence it came, looking straight forward with a stony, fascinated stare, so full of mingled despair and earnestness, that I trembled with superstitious fear, and even my dog crawled to my feet, quivering in every limb. Onward he strode, unconscious of a watcher, to a shaded spot on the border, just beyond my position, known as the Witch's Circle. As he reached it, the bugle was again sounded, when immediately a tall cloaked figure rode out of the forest to meet him, and they saluted each other in silence. I could not discern the stranger's features, but I noticed with breathless horror that the steps of the horse which he rode, as well as those of another which he led by the bridle, gave forth no more sound than if they were planted in air——'

"Wilhelm suddenly paused in his narrative, as a beautiful White Fawn suddenly sprang from behind a suspended wolf skin, and alighted directly in front of him. Daylight no longer lent its rays to illumine the apartment, and as the animal's eyes were visible through the misty beams of the lamp, they seemed to glare and blaze like coals of vivid fire.

"'Heaven preserve me!' ejaculated the young hunter, crossing himself.

"'It is my pet, Leo; do not fear him,' said Marcella in low tones.

"'Your father mounted the unoccupied saddle,' continued Wilhelm, going on with his adventure; 'and together they disappeared between the pines; noiselessly as the falling of a feather. At short intervals I heard the sound of the bugle growing fainter and fainter, until it died away in the windings of the mountains. I called my dog and hastened home, without daring to look behind, lest I should behold the mysterious riders following on my track.'

"A short silence succeeded, during which Marcella gently wept, and caressed the fawn. At length she spoke:

"'Dear Wilhelm, I now see the reason why you have ever avoided my father, and come here only while he is away. Perhaps it is better that you should continue to do so, for he is very irritable, and your meeting might be attended with fearful results. Leave me, Wilhelm; I expect him every moment; it is already past his usual time of return.'

"'I must speak with your father to night, dearest,' said the hunter, encircling her waist with his arm.

"'God forbid!' she exclaimed, looking up to him with great alarm.

"'It must be so, Marcella; I am about to ask a gift of him, and his answer will either make me the happiest of men, or leave me miserable for life. I will ask his daughter of him as one who has a just claim, and I cannot believe he will refuse me.'

"'Wilhelm, you do not know my——'

"At this moment there came a measured rapping at the door, and Marcella arose to open it, trembling with undefined dread. Hermann the Demented pressed a kiss upon her brow as he passed the threshold, and entered his cabin.

"He was an old man, for his hair was grey, and deep wrinkles furroughed his brow; but his form was fully developed and upright as that of meridian manhood, and there was a changing fire in his eye that indicated all the energy of youth. His dress was a mixture of military and peasant garb, and he wore a tall, black felt hat, encircled with a red ribbon. Game of every kind hung in such profusion from his broad shoulders, that it almost entirely concealed his person, and he bore in his hand a rifle which few men could handle. On arriving beneath the lamp, he deposited his spoils upon the floor, and then, for the first time, observed the presence of the young hunter.

"'Ha! is that you Wilhelm!' he exclaimed, casting aside his rifle, and extending his hand in a friendly manner, 'I am especially glad to welcome a brother craftsman to my cover, on a night when I have had such uncommon luck. Look at that heap, and tell me if you ever saw another such.'

"'You are famed as a fortunate hunter,' answered the other, gazing upon the immense pile at his feet with astonishment.

"'Yes, yes, Wilhelm, there are few men can bag hares with Hermann, the Demented,' and the old man laughed a hollow laugh.

"'Your skill must indeed be extraordinary, when it enables you to secure many of these animals after nightfall, and without hounds,' returned Wilhelm, looking fixedly at the hunter with a penetrating glance.

"Immediately upon the entrance of her father Marcella had drawn the table from the wall, and commenced to prepare an humble meal; she was standing in a distant corner of the cabin, when her lover spoke thus:

"Hermann started back with a look of fierce anger.

"'What mean you, young man!' he asked in stern tones.

"'I had no intention of giving offence, Mynheer Hermann.'

"'Your looks, at least, were impertinent,' muttered the old hunter, turning abruptly from him, and commencing to sort his game.

"The simple meal was soon ready, and the three persons partook of it without so much as a whisper. When it was finished, and while the young girl was replacing her few utensils, Hermann produced a large Meerschaum pipe, and having filled it with tobacco, lit it with a chip from the fire-place; looking inquiringly at his guest as he smoked.

"'You were, doubtless, surprised to find me here?' said the latter, with some hesitancy in his manner.

"'I am not often so highly honored,' responded Hermann, quietly sending forth a wreath of smoke from between his teeth.

"'Do you understand my object, Mynheer Hermann?'

"'Certainly I do, Mynheer Wilhelm.'

"'Indeed,' ejaculated the young hunter, with a look of inquiry.

"'Of course,' said Hermann, ironically; 'you come to my cot, Mynheer Wilhelm, hoping to behold some diabolical orgie, or the working of some cabalistic spell, by which I secure success in the chase. You expect to see me in communion with the mountain spirits, and allowing a long-tailed demon to breathe upon my rifle. Look around you, my honored guest; is not my daughter some horrid witch in disguise? Is not this gentle fawn, a bloodthirsty spectre metamorphosed? Do you not see at least a dozen goblins climbing the barrel of my rifle? Ha, ha, ha! you will add another to the thousand and one legends about Hermann the Demented. And tell me, young man, what is to prevent my offering you as a sacrifice to my counsellor, the devil? People would say it served you right, for entering this unholy place. You had better depart before my familiar makes his appearance to sup with me, from the skulls of children. I assure you, mynheer, that yonder stone bottle contains human blood. Fly, before the spell begins to work.'

"Although the old man frequently laughed while speaking, there was a hollowness, and unreal zest in his mirth, that made the young hunter shudder.