'Captain Villiam Brown, Eskevire.'
"And whereas, the same is producing much excitement among those members from the Border States who would prefer that said bar-room should be nearer Washington, in case of sickness. Therefore, I, General of the Mackerel Brigade, do proclaim and declare that the Mackerel Brigade cannot stand this sort of thing, and that neither Captain Villiam Brown nor any other commander has been authorized to declare free lunch, either by implication or otherwise, in any State: much less in a state of intoxication, of which there are several.
"To persons in this State, now, I earnestly appeal. I do not argue: I beseech you to mix your own liquors. You cannot, if you would, be blind to the signs of the times, when such opportunity is offered to see double. I beg of you a calm and immense consideration of them (signs), ranging, it may be, above personal liquor establishments. The change you will receive after purchasing your materials will come gently as the dues from heaven—not rending nor wrecking anything. Will you not embrace me? May the extensive future not have to lament that you have neglected to do so.
"Yours, respectfully, the
"General of the Mackerel Brigade."
[Green seal.]
When Villiam read this conservative proclamation, my boy, he looked thoughtfully into a recently-occupied tumbler for a few moments, and then says he:
"There's some intelleck in that. The general covers the whole ground. Ah!" says Villiam, preparing, in a dreamy manner, to wash out the tumbler with something from a decanter, "the general so completely covers the whole ground sometimes, that the police departmink is required to clear it."
I believe him, my boy.
The intelligent and reliable contrabands, my boy, who have come into Paris from time to time, with valuable news concerning all recent movements not taking place in the Confederacy, were formed lately by Villiam, into a military company, called the Sambory Guard, Captain Bob Shorty being deputed to drill them in the colored-manual of arms. They were dressed in flaming red breeches and black coats, my boy, and each chaotic chap looked like a section of stove-pipe walking about on two radishes.