From this logical and vivid conversation, my boy, you will understand that our leading military men have perfect faith in the genius of McClellan, and believe that he is equal to fifty yards of the Star-Spangled Banner. His great anaconda has gathered itself in a circle around the doomed rabbit of rebellion, and if the rabbit swells he's a goner.
This great anaconda, my boy, may remind hellish readers of the anaconda once seen by a chap of my acquaintance living in the Sixth Ward. This chap, my boy, came tearing into a place where they kept the Oath on tap, and says he:
"I've just seen an anaconda down Broadway."
"Anna who?" says a red-nosed Alderman, dipping his finger into the water on the stove to see if it was warm enough to melt some brandy-refined sugar.
"I said Anaconda, you ignorant cuss," says the chap.
"Was it the real insect?" says the Alderman.
"It was a real, original, genuine Anaconda," says the chap.
"Ah!" says the Alderman, "somebody's been stuffin' you."
"No, sir!" says the chap, "but somebody's been stuffin' the Anaconda, though."
He'd been to the Museum.