Volume I Part 18 (1/2)
'Twas enough!
”I wilt,” responded Captain Bob Shorty. And in ten minutes' time these desperate men stood face to face on the banks of the Potomac, the ghastly moon looking solemnly down upon them through a rift of floating shrouds; and one of the First Families of Virginia pickets squinting at them from a neighboring bush. Villiam's second was Colonel Wobert Wobinson of the Western Cavalry, Captain Bob Shorty's was Samyule Sa-mith. The fifth of the party was a fat surgeon from St. Louis, who stood with his sleeves rolled up and a big jack-knife in his hand. The surgeon also had a stomach pump with him, my boy, and twelve boxes of anti-bilious pills. The weapons were pistols, and the distance seventy paces.
Captain Villiam Brown was observed to s.h.i.+ver, as he took his place, and was so cold, that he took aim at the surgeon instead of his antagonist.
The surgeon called his attention to this little error; and he immediately rectified his mistake by pointing his weapon point-blank at Samyule Sa-mith.
”You blood-thirsty cuss!” shouted Samyule, with great emotion, ”what are you pointing at me for?”
”I was thinking of my poor grandmother,” said Villiam, feelingly; and immediately fired at the moon.
Simultaneously, Captain Bob Shorty sent his bullet skimming along the ground, in the direction of Was.h.i.+ngton, and said that he wanted to go home.
The surgeon decided that n.o.body was hurt; and the two infuriated princ.i.p.als commenced to reload their pistols, with horrible calmness.
Now it came to pa.s.s, that while Captain Villiam Brown was stooping down fixing his weapon, his hand became unsteady, and he pulled the trigger, without meaning to. Bang! went the concern, and whiz! went the ball right between the legs of Colonel Wobert Wobinson, causing that n.o.ble officer to skip four times, and swear awfully.
”Treachery!” says Captain Bob Shorty, spinning around in great excitement, and letting drive at Samyule Sa-mith who happened to be nearest.
”Gaul darn ye!” screamed Samyule, turning purple in the face, ”you've gone and shot all the rim of my cap off.”
”I couldn't help it,” says Bob, looking into the barrel of his pistol with great intensity of gaze.
At this moment, Villiam, who had loaded up again, tried to put the hammer of his weapon down on the cap; but his hand slipped, and the charge exploded, barking the s.h.i.+ns of the fat surgeon, and sending a bullet clean through his stomach-pump.
The surgeon just took a seat, my boy, rubbed his s.h.i.+ns half a second, took four boxes of pills, and then began to cuss! Marshal Rynders can cuss _some_, my boy, but that fat surgeon could beat him and all the Custom-House together.
But suddenly a strange sound reduced all else to silence. It came first like the rumbling of a barrel of potatoes, and then grew into a fiendish chuckle. It was found to proceed from a neighboring bush, and on proceeding thither the party beheld a sight to make the pious weep.
Rolling about in the brush was one of the First Families of Virginia pickets, kicking his heels in the air, and laughing himself right straight into apoplexy.
”O Lord!” says he, going into a fresh convulsion, ”take me prisoner and hang me for a rebel, but I never _did_ see such a good one as that air gay old duel. If you'd kept on,” says the picket, turning purple in the face, ”I really reckon I should a busted myself.”
Captain Villiam Brown was greatly scandalized at this unseemly mirth, my boy, and requested the surgeon to cut the picket's head off; but Colonel Wobert Wobinson interposed, and the laughing chap was only made prisoner.
”And now, Villiam,” says Captain Bob Shorty, ”we've had the satisfaction of gentlemen, and can be friends again. I spurns Miss Muggins. The American flag is my only bride, and as for you!--well, I think rather more of you than I do of my own father.”
”Come to my arms!” exclaimed Villiam, falling upon his neck, and improving the opportunity to take the Oath from his canteen.
It was an affecting sight, my boy; and as those two n.o.ble youths walked amicably back to the camp together, the fat surgeon remarked to Samyule Sa-mith that they reminded him of Damon and Pythias just returned from the Syracuse Convention.
Yours, for the Code,
ORPHEUS C. KERR.
LETTER XXV.
PRESENTING THE CHAPLAIN'S NEW YEAR POEM, AND REPORTING THE SINGULAR CONDUCT OF THE GENERAL OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE ON THE DAY HE CELEBRATED.
WAs.h.i.+NGTON, D.C., January 2d, 1862.
Another year, my boy, has dawned upon a struggle in which the hopes of freedom and integrity all over the world are breathlessly involved; and if the day-star of Liberty is destined to go down into the ocean wave, what is to become of the unoffending negroes? I extract this beautiful pa.s.sage, my boy, from the forthcoming speech of a fat Congressman, who is a friend to the human race, and charges the Administration with imbecility and with mileage. I conversed with him the other evening, and, after discussing various topics, asked him what he thought of the Was.h.i.+ngton statue as it stood? He winked three times, and then says he: