The Orpheus C. Kerr Papers Volume Iii Part 10

"I hab a talk with Uncle Pete, De old plantation hand, And though he am intelligums Dis chile can understand.

He say de Hallelugerum For cullud folks hab c.u.m, And dat he bressed Lord hab heard And beat his thunder-drum.

"He say dat Northern buckra man Hab sent his gun an' ship To make de rebel chiverly Give up his n.i.g.g.e.r whip, He say dat now's de darkey's time To break de bonds of sin, And take his chil'en an' his wife To whar de tide comes in.

"He say dat in de Norf, up dar, Whar Mars'r Greeley dwell, De white folks make de brack folks work, But treat them bery well; He says dey pay them for de work Dey's smart enuff to do, And nebber sells them furder Souf When sheriff put um screw.

"I hab a wife an chil'en dear, And mars'r say to me He nebber sell them while he live,-- He'd rather set them free; But dar's de mortgage on de house, If dat should hab to fall, Ole Uncle Pete hab told me dat He'd hab to sell us all.

"I lub de ole plantation well, And missus she is kind; But den dis chile's inclined to try Another home to find.

Now mars'r gwine away to war, And give me such a chance, I'll bress de Lord for libaty.

And hab a Juba dance.

"De Hallelugerum am c.u.m With glory in his eye, And all de n.i.g.g.e.rs in de Souf Am fit to mount de sky.

My wife an' chil'en hab de spoons Dat's owned by--(here a cough)-- I hab de sugar-tongs myself, And, darfor,' I is off."

Among the distinguished speakers invited to be present at the great meeting in Accomac, were: the Emperor of Russia, the Emperor of France, the Sultan of Turkey, Queen Victoria, the King of Sweden, the President of the United States, and Theodore Tilton; but, as the walking was very bad, they did not all come. The celebrated American patriot, Mr. Phelim O'Shaughnessy, took the chair in the absence of the President, and said, that as the Emperor of France was unavoidably absent, he would beg leave to introduce Mr. Terence Mulligan, whose ancestors were once Irishmen themselves.

Mr. Mulligan was received with prolonged applause, and said, that although he bore an Irish name, he had never been ashamed to a.s.sociate with Americans. His father, while yet on his way from Ireland, had been elected a Justice of the Peace in New York, and his son should be the last one to neglect the Union in its hour of need. What we wanted now, was, that the example of our Irish citizens should be imitated by the others, and that the war should be prosecuted with vigor. (Continued cheering.) Irishmen need never despair of this glorious Union, which had often been a House of Refuge for them, and could not fall without carrying Ireland with it,--so closely were the two great nations knit together. The Irish would never despair:

"For Freedom's struggle once begun, Bequeathed from bleeding sire to son, Though baffled oft, is ever won."

When the enthusiasm had subsided, the chairman expressed his regret that the Emperor of Russia had not arrived yet; but felt confident that his place could not be better supplied than by Mr. Mickey Flanigan, whose forefathers were themselves the fellow-countrymen of Daniel O'Connell. (Great applause.)

Mr. Flanigan arose amidst great cheering, and said that it was a time when every Irishman should feel as though the eyes of the whole world were upon him. He had found the natives of this country intelligent, kind, and hospitable; and though they had not taken his advice as to the management of this war, he firmly believed that no Irishman would disagree with him when he said, that Irish arms and Irish hearts would finally conquer:

"For Freedom's battle once begun.

Bequeathed by loyal sire to son, Though baffled oft is ever won."

As soon as the demonstrations of approval had sufficiently subsided, the chairman stated, that, for some unknown reason, Queen Victoria was behind time; yet he could not, for his part, feel sorry for an event which gave him an opportunity to introduce Mr. Figsey Korigan, who represented that element of the world's hidden, free spirit which had thundered in an Emmett and an O'Brien. (Great enthusiasm.)

Mr. Korigan acknowledged the glorious welcome he had received, and declared that this was a proud day for Ireland. Her sons were ever foremost in the ranks of human freedom, shedding their votes for the oppressed of all lands, and fighting all the time. He would say to that Irishman who despaired of this Union, that he was unworthy of any office, and should blush to call himself an American. The speaker's own family had always been Irish, though he himself was born in Cork, and he would be ashamed to stand on that platform if he did not believe that the freeborn Irish soul would eventually triumph:

"For Freedom's contest once begun, By bleeding sire bequeathed to son, Though baffled oft is ever won."

The chairman now arose, amid frantic applause, and said that the meeting was now at an end; but proposed that all the persons present should enroll themselves as members of a Union League for the Prevention of Distress among our Irish Soldiers in the Field. This was responded to with a thundering "Ay." He also proposed that each person present should contribute one dollar as a basis of a fund for the purpose. A gentleman here moved that the chairman's last suggestion should be amended by omitting the words "dollar" and "fund." Carried unanimously.

Then all the Accomackians went pleasantly home, my boy, except one seedy chap who had stood patiently before the platform during all the proceedings; and there he still stood, with his arms folded, when all the rest had gone. He was a somewhat loaferish chap, with some appearance of the philosopher.

The chairman looked at him, and says he:

"What are you waiting for, my friend?"

The chap gave an extra chew to his tobacco, and says he:

"I'm waiting for that ere Great Union meeting to come off."

"Why," says the chairman, "the meeting is all over."

"Yes, I know--_that_ meeting," says the chap, explainingly; "but I mean the Great _Union_ meeting."

It is astonishing, my boy, how much ignorance there is in this world.

Here was a sane human being who had attentively stood all through a meeting in aid of our sacred national cause, and yet did not know that it was a Union meeting.

Thursday was the day when I reached the head-quarters of the Mackerel Brigade, at the ancient city of Paris, arriving just in time to witness one of those strategic naval exploits which will yet cause the American name to be respected wherever there is nothing particular against it.

It appears, that after his last successful experiment with his patent swivel gun, that stanch old sea-dog, Rear Admiral Head, devoted much of his time on Duck Lake fishing for ba.s.s, believing that n.o.ble expanse of waters to be free from all obstructions and open to the commerce of the world. The commerce did not come, my boy; but several insidious Confederacies did; and as our glorious old son of Neptune always sat with his back to their side of the lake when fishing, they constructed a pier which extended from the sh.o.r.e to the main deck of the iron-plated Mackerel Squadron, the "Secretary Welles," and had planted seven villanous horse-pistols to command the Admiral's fish-basket and umbrella before our h.o.a.ry old salt discovered that the war was still going on.

"Riddle my turret!" says the grim old Triton, in his iron-plated manner, "I believe a blockade is established; dent my plates if I don't."

Heartily did that pride of our Navy call up the culpably inattentive Mackerel crew, who were eating clams in the stern-sheets, and quickly was the gallant "Secretary Welles" withdrawn out of the range of the Confederacies' murderous fire; her swivel gun raking the atmosphere fore and aft, whilst the fearless old sea-dog sat down upon a reversed pail amidships, and addressed a letter breathing future vengeance to the unseemly Copperheads of the North. "Sink my Monitor!" says he hotly; "let them beware of the time when the Navy returns to its peaceful home!"

But it was on Thursday, my boy, that the Rear Admiral was to run the blockade of the Confederacies' pier, and Captain Villiam Brown, Captain Bob Shorty, and myself, stood upon the edge of Duck Lake, with our pieces of smoked gla.s.s in our hands, to behold this triumph of consummate naval strategy.

At the hour appointed, we beheld Rear Admiral Head and his Mackerel crew slipping over the stern of the Mackerel squadron into the water, and immediately the "Secretary Welles" commenced to float past the Confederacies' batteries with the tide. Onward she went, despite the plunging fire from the horse-pistols, and, presently, we could see her go safely ash.o.r.e. Never shall I forget the beautiful glow of triumph that overspread the n.o.ble countenance of Rear Admiral Head, as he and his crew waded through the water to the place where we stood.

"Unrivet my armor!" says he, in his stern, iron-plated manner; "I call that running a blockade in good style."

"Yes," says I, sceptically; "but how are you going to get the squadron back again?"

"Eh?" says he, "what was that question, young man?"

"Why," says I, anxiously, "now that the squadron has run the blockade, how are you going to get her back again?"

"By all that's iron-clad," says the grim old sea-dog, violently, "I forgot all about that."

"Ah!" says Captain Villiam Brown, pleasantly, "can't you dig a ca.n.a.l?"

At this moment there was a tremendous explosion; something was seen flying through the air, and then the swivel gun of the "Secretary Welles," with the Admiral's fish-basket and umbrella attached, fell beside us on the sand. In their haste to take possession of our squadron, the Confederacies had dropped some sparks from their pipes into the powder-magazine, blowing our entire armament back to us!

Providence, my boy, is evidently on our side in this war; which accounts for the fact that human naval genius has not yet entirely ruined us.

Yours, devoutly,

ORPHEUS C. KERR.

LETTER Lx.x.xVIII.

CONCERNING INTELLECTUAL GIANTS AND PINS; WITH A FEW WORDS AS TO CERTAIN DRAMATIC STREET-SCENES SUPPOSED TO BE OF DAILY OCCURRENCE; AN AFFECTING WESTERN POEM; AND A BRIEF GLIMPSE OF AN ORDINARY CAVALRY DASH.

WASHINGTON, D.C., March 22d, 1863.

Greatness of mind, my boy, like greatness of body, consists no less in a capacity for making good use of small things than in an ability to master vast ones; and the intellect sublime enough to grasp the whole system of the universe, may not disdain to draw a useful lesson in human nature even from so minute an object as the Secretary of the Interior. The elephant, in the full amplitude of his physical greatness, has been briefly and comprehensively characterized as an animal able to knock down a giant and pick up a pin; and how shall the glorious human mind boast its superiority over matter, if it be not also endowed with the power of stooping as well as soaring? I believe, my boy, in the mind that picks up pins intellectual; especially in these days, when there are so few intellectual giants to knock down.

Indeed, so important to the general system of intellect is the system of taking no less note of small things than of great ones, that a mult.i.tude of writers who deal only in the smallest kind of matters all their lives may themselves be denominated intellectual pins. I hold Mr. Tupper to be an intellectual pin, and Mr. Willis has also become somewhat of a pin in these his later years.