The veteran Mackerel sighed deeply, as he spread open the package to full view, my boy, and says he, respectfully:
"Are you a married man, my cove?"
"No," says I, with a feeling of mingled insignificance and financial complacency, "I never paid a milliner's bill in my life."
"Neither did I," said the veteran, with a gleam of satisfaction, "neither did I; I always has them charged to me; but still I am the wedded pardner of one which is a woman. I have loved her," says the veteran passionately, "I have loved her better than I loved number Three's masheen, with which I was brought up, and that seemed to me like my own brother. I have stayed home from a fire more than once to go to church with her; and the last words I said to her when I come here was: 'Old woman! if Six's foreman comes here after that wrench, while I'm away, tell him I'll break that nose of his when I come back!' We was all confidence together," says the veteran, smiting his chest, madly; "and I never threw a brick that I didn't tell her of it, and now she's gone and sent me a copy of the Temperance Pledge, a pair of skates, two bottles of toothache drops, and six
sheets of patent fly-paper. I really believe," says the veteran, bitterly—"I really believe that she thinks I ain't got nothing to do here but to keep house and take care of an aged grandmother."
At the conclusion of this unnatural speech, my boy, I hastily trotted away upon my architectural steed; for I had not patience enough to talk longer with one whose whole nature seemed so utterly incapable of appreciating those beautiful little attentions which woman's tender heart induces her to bestow upon the beloved object. Since the last time I was sick, my boy, I have entertained a positive veneration for the wonderful foresight of that blessed sex, whose eyes remind me of pearl buttons. At that period, when the doctors had given me up, and nothing but their absence seemed capable of saving my life, one of the prevalent women of America heard of my critical condition, and, by her deep knowledge of human nature, was enabled to rescue me. She sent me a bottle of stuff, my boy, saying, in a note of venerable tone, that it had cured her of chapped hands several times, and she hoped it might break my fever. With a thankful, confident heart, I threw the bottle out of the window, my boy, and got well in less than three months.
The other day, I went down to Accomac again, to see the General of the Mackerel Brigade, who had invited me to be present while he made an offer of bliss to a delegation from that oppressed race which has been the sole cause of this unnatural war, and is, therefore, exempted from all concern in it.
The General, my boy, was seated in his temporary room of audience when I arrived, examining a map of
the Border States through a powerful magnifying-glass, and occasionally looking into a tumbler, as though he expected to find something there.
"Well, old Honesty," says I, affably, "what is our next scheme for the benefit of the human race?"