Then, again, on the calm waters of Duck Lake (now too deep for wading in consequence of recent rains), that hoary old salt, Rear Admiral Head, unhooked his famous flagship, the "Shockingbadhat," and set out with his improved swivel-gun and agile Mackerel crew to take a hand in the carnival of conquest.
"Loosen my plates!" swore the aged son of Neptune in his iron-clad manner, as he adjusted his spectacles and extracted a slow-match from one corner of his snuff-box,—"Loosen my plates! but the navy must kill a few Confederate insects,—bark my turret, if it mustn't."
It was really beautiful, my boy, to see an iron-clad tar of such great age light the slow-match with his own meerschaum, and aim the improved artillery directly at the rear-elevation of a Confederacy tying his shoe in one of the side windows of Paris.
Ker-bang! went the triumph of naval ingenuity, causing the flag-ship to hop only a few inches into the air; and a Confederacy with amputated coat-tails was instantly seen to spin wildly around and rub himself like one in a bath.
Not to sicken you, my boy, with too much of such heart-rending slaughter, let me say that a dense cloud of sulphurous smoke soon entirely veiled the doomed City of Paris, into which the strategical Mackerels continued for hours to pour such torrents of lead as no number of windows could stand. Finally, as night approached, a person of black extraction, with wool on the brain, emerged from the cloud quite close to Villiam, and says he:
"De place hab surrender, sah."
"Ah!" says Villiam, pulling out his ruffles, "is the conflick too much for the scorpions?"
The faithful black arranged a silver cake-basket more firmly under his coat, and says he:
"Dey's all gone over Jordan."
Wild were the cheers that rent the air at this intelligence, and right quickly were our national troops marching into the bar-room of captured Paris, to the inspiring strains of "Drops of Brandy," from the night-key bugle of the Mackerel band. Our distracted banner, too, was just being raised triumphantly upon the roof, when there suddenly emerged, from the shadow of the rear-guard, Miss P. Hen, leaning trustfully upon the arm of the Conservative Kentucky Chap!