Say, strannger!—do you drink?'"
But let me not indulge in sentiment, my boy, while it is still before me to describe the recent successful reconnoissance of the Anatomical Cavalry, whose horses remind me of the celebrated war-horse described by Job, inasmuch as it is believed that the far-famed patience of that scriptural patriarch would have stood a very poor chance with them.
The Grim Old Fighting Cox, the new General of the Mackerel Brigade, having learned from the New York daily papers, of the week previous, that a few hundred thousand freshly-drafted Confederacies were massing themselves on his right, resolved to order a triumphant reconnoissance by the Anatomical Cavalry and the Orange County Howitzers, for the purpose of discovering whether the war was actually going on yet. As the steeds of the cavalry were widely dispersed through the various gravel meadows around the Mackerel camp, my boy, and had grown somewhat wild from long disuse, I was somewhat puzzled to know how they could all be caught quickly enough, and says I to Captain Villiam Brown, who was to command the combined expedition:
"Tell me, my Pylades, how will you manage to organize the equestrian bone-works without losing too many hours?"
"Ah!" says Villiam, briskly replacing the cork in his canteen, and startling his geometrical steed, Euclid, from a soft doze, "we must make use of our knowledge of natural history, which is the animal kingdom. Observe the device used in such cases by the scientific United States of America."
I looked, my boy, and beheld a select company of joyous Mackerels hoisting a huge board to the top of a lofty pole, which must have been visible for a mile distant. The board simply bore, in large letters, the simple words:
"THE OATS HAVE COME."
and scarcely had it reached the top of the pole, when the anatomical steeds came pouring into the camp with frantic speed, and from every direction.
"Ah!" says Villiam, thoughtfully, "how powerful is instink, even in a dumb animal. I once had a dog," says Villiam, reflectively, "whose instink was so powerful, that to stop his vocal barking it was only necessary to show him a good-sized piece of bark. He felt," says Villiam, explainingly, "that it was a larger bark than his, and it made him silent."
Truly, my boy, there is often a marvellous similarity between instinct and reason, the former serving as the foundation of the latter, and not unfrequently being entirely destitute of a superstructure in military men.