The Orpheus C. Kerr Papers Volume Iii Part 9

"I understand you, my warrior," says I, calmly; "but if this affair is to come off immediately, where are we to find our seconds?"

The Kentucky chap hastily called a small boy to him, and says he:

"Sonny, just run out into the street and ask any two gentlemen you meet to step in here for a moment." "You see," says he, turning to me, "it's better to have two brigadier-generals for seconds, as a battle might take place while we are away, and there are no private soldiers to spare at present."

"Yes," says I, thoughtfully, "that's very true."

The brigadiers were obtained, my boy, and, with murder in our hearts, we started forth to seek a spot appropriate for carnage in private. It was just the hour of mid-day, and we were wending our sanguinary way in silence, when, upon turning a corner of one of the public buildings, the sound of sweet music fell upon our ears, and we came suddenly upon a bra.s.s band and a party of singers, who were discoursing witching strains under one of the windows.

I listened for a moment, and then, says I: "What may be the occasion for this noonday melody?"

The Conservative Kentucky chap motioned for us to pause, and says he, feelingly: "It's a serenade to Secretary Welles of the Navy. Let us heed the voice of the singer."

Here a young vocal chap, under the window, commenced singing the following words, in a fine tenor manner:

SERENADE.

"O lady, in thy waking glance There lurked a wondrous spell, To hold young Cupid in thine eye As in a prison cell.

"And now, the G.o.d of Slumber finds Thy drooping lids so fair, He makes of them his chosen couch And dwells forever there."

As the last note of the singer fainted into the eternity of lost sounds, I looked at the Conservative Kentucky chap, my boy, and beheld that his eyes were suffused with the tears of an exquisite sensibility.

"Yes," says he, softly, "--'and dwells forever there.'" Here the Kentucky chap shed another tear to wash out the stain of the last one, and says he, "Mr. Welles is indeed a lady who offers some attraction to slumber. May he rest in peace!"

We were all too deeply affected to speak, but proceeded silently to a vacant lot across the river, where accommodations for law-breaking were ample. Everything about us here seemed fraught with the spirit of peace; on each side, and as far as the eye could reach behind and before, were the tents of the Army of the Potomac, growing in the spots where they were planted years ago. We alone, of all the human beings within sound of our weapons, were about to be breakers of the established war--to shed human blood. It seemed like a sacrilege, and I trembled with the cold.

At first, my boy, we had some trouble to keep the brigadier-generals with us, as it suddenly struck them that they had not drawn their pay for two whole hours, and were frantic to return; but when I suggested, that if they should be missed from their posts, they would probably be nominated for major-generalship, they consented to remain.

When the Conservative Kentucky chap took his position, I noticed that his countenance was contorted into a horrible expression of severity, and asked him why it was?

"Hem!" says he, "this is a solemn moment, young man. We are both about to fly into the face of our Maker." Here he pointed his weapon at me; and says he: "I think you are frightened."

"No," says I, making ready.

The Kentucky chap's face then a.s.sumed the most terrific expression I ever saw, and says he:

"Are you not alarmed at your awful position?"

"No," says I.

The Conservative Kentucky chap lowered his pistol, and, motioning for the brigadiers to come from behind their trees, advanced to my side.

"Hem!" says he, frowning majestically, "I think I understood you to intimate that you were terrified."

"No," says I.

Here the Conservative Kentucky chap took me suddenly by the arm in a very confidential manner, and, having led me a few paces back, says he, in a horrible whisper: "You find yourself frightened, as it were."

"Why, no," says I.

"Well," says the Conservative Kentucky chap, "I AM."

And we all went home together.

Since then, my boy, I have weighed and contrasted my own feelings and those of the Conservative Kentucky chap on that occasion, when I won an everlasting reputation for bravery; and I am satisfied that the bravery of a man in an affair of honor is a superior capacity for concealing terror.

It was toward the middle of the week that I went down to Accomac to attend a great Union meeting there, and it's my private opinion, my boy, my private opinion, that the human tongue is not without its province in this war. But before the meeting commenced, and whilst I was reflecting upon the fact that it was the day on which the Prince of Wales was to be married, a redeemed contraband saluted me, and says he:

"Mars'r, I hab been made a free man by Mars'r Lincoln, and hab opened a Refreshment Saloon on de European plan. If you want to dine, sar, here's my card. My name is Mister Negg."

I looked at the card as he left me, and found it to read thus:--

HAMAN NEGG'S

RESTAURANT.

ICH DIEN OYSTERS IN EVERY STYLE.

There was one thing about this inscription that I did not understand, and says I to a chap near me:

"See here, my patriotic friend, what does this mean? What kind of things are Ich Dien Oysters?"

"Oh," says he, obligingly, "you do not understand the Hanoverian tongue. '_Ich Dien_' is the Prince of Wales' motto, and means '_I serve_.' The phrase 'Ich Dien Oysters in Every Style' means, 'I serve oysters in every style.'"

Then it was, my boy, that I saw in Mr. Negg's device the despised African's testimonial of grat.i.tude to Great Britain for the recent reaction of anti-slavery sentiment there. A more delicate compliment, my boy, was never offered to the mother country, who has given us all at least 290[3] reasons for loving her.

[3] Persons who despise Europe may remember, that, "The 290,"

(supposed to mean, from 290 British Merchants) was the original name of the rebel pirate "Alabama."

And speaking of redeemed contrabands, reminds me of the new African hymn, which the more pious colored Americans of South Carolina might denominate

DE GREAT HALLELUGERUM.

"My mars'r's gwine away to fight With Mars'r Link.u.m's horde, An' now dis chile's at libaty To dance an' bress de Lord.

Dar's no more swearin' round de house When missus cut up bad; Dar's no more kickin' n.i.g.g.e.rs' shins, And, darfor', I is glad.

"When mars'r take his horse to go, He kindly say to me: 'I hab such confidence in you, I leab you all, you see; Of all de n.i.g.g.e.rs round de place, I trust to you alone.'

By golly! dat's what mars'r say To eb'ry nig he own!

"'Now if dem Bob.u.mlitionists Should kill me dead,' says he, 'I hab instruct your missus kind To set you n.i.g.g.e.rs free.'

But mars'r say dat bery same Wheneber he get sick, And bressed Jesus wrastle him To make him holy quick.

"'Dem Yankees, dam um all,' says he, 'Am comin' down to steal You n.i.g.g.e.rs, and to sell you then For Cuba cochineal.

De Suvern chiverly,' says he, 'Am fightin' jist fo' you.'

Now mars'r swearum when he lie, And, darfor', dat wont do!

"Den mars'r trot away to war With 'Dolphus by his side,-- A poor cream-colored, common dark Dat isn't worf his hide.

He leab me and de other nigs To clar the place alone, With nuffin' but to play and shake De fiddle and de bone.