"Why," says he, "you know Simpson, your uncle?"
"I believe you, my boy!" says I.
"Well!" says Captain Bob Shorty, "that air Simpson is one of the smartest old cusses in the country—yet there ain't no 'On to Richmond' about him. I asked him once, myself, to make an advance. I asked him to make an advance on my repeater, and he said he couldn't."
This argument, my boy, exposes thoroughly the base disloyalty and fiendish designs of the newspaper brigadiers who are constantly urging McClellan to advance—advance! Let them all be sent to Fort Lafayette, and the moral effect on this cursed rebellion will be such that it will utterly collapse in two hours and forty-three minutes.
The serious New Haven chap, of whom I spoke to you some time ago, takes a "radical" view of our long halt, and gives his ideas in
THE MIDNIGHT WATCH.
Soldier, soldier, wan and gray,
Standing there so very still,
On the outpost looking South,
What is there to-night to kill?