I asked an explanation, and he informed me that on the evening before, one of his men had boarded an Accomac scow in Goose Creek, and captured two oppressed negroes, named Johnson and Peyton, who were carrying news to the enemy. "At first," says Villiam, sternly, "I thought of letting them off with hanging, but I soon felt that they deserved something worse, and so—" says Villiam, with a malignant scowl that made my blood run cold—"and so, I sentenced them to read Sumner's speech on the Trent affair."
On the following morning there came the following letter from the righteously-exasperated citizens of Accomac, which Villiam labeled as
DOCKYMENT I.
Sweet Villiam—Sir:—I am instructed by the neutral Government of Accomac to assure the United States of America, that the feeling at present existing between the two Governments is of such a cordial nature, that love itself never inspired more heaving emotions in the buzzums of conglomerated youth.
Therefore, the outrage committed by the United States of America on the flag of Accomac, in removing from its protection two gentlemen named Johnson and Peyton, is something for demons to rejoice over. The daughter of the latter gentleman has already slapped her mother in the face, and bared her buzzum to the breeze.
I am instructed by the government of Accomac to demand the instant return of the two gentlemen, together with an ample apology for the base deed, and the amount of that little bill for forage.
Again assuring you of the cordial feeling existing between the two countries, and the passionate affection I feel for yourself, I am, dear sir, most truly, dear sir, as ever, respected sir, your attached
William Goat.
On receiving this communication from Mr. Goat, my boy, Captain Villiam Brown removed Lieutenant Thomas Jenks from the command of the artillery, and ordered six reviews of the troops without umbrellas. He then had a small keg of the Oath rolled into the library, rumpled up his hair, shut one eye, and replied to Mr. Goat with
DOCKYMENT II.