tance, until finally he was out of
sight.

It was some six hours after this, my boy, that we were conversing as
before, when there suddenly appeared, coming toward us from the
direction of the capital of the Confederacy, the figure of a man
running. Rapidly it drew nearer, when I discovered it to be Mr. P.
Greene, in a horrible condition of dishevelment, his umbrella, cane,
and carpet-bag gone, his hair standing on end, his coat-tails
projective in the breeze, and his lower limbs making the best time on
record. Onward he came, like the wind, and before we could stop him, he
had gone by us, dashed frantically through the camp, and was tearing
along like mad toward Washington.

"Ah!" says Villiam, philosophically, "he derived his information from
the daily prints of the United States of America, and has seen the
elephant. The moral," says Villiam, placidly, "is very obvious,--put
not your trust in print, sirs."

If it be indeed true, that there is "more pleasure in anticipation than
in reality," the war-news we find in our excellent morning journals
should give us more pleasure than one poor pen can express.

Yours, credulously,

ORPHEUS C. KERR.

LETTER XCI.

CONTAINING THE VENERABLE GAMMON'S REPORT OF THE MANNER IN WHICH THE
WAR HAS CONDUCTED ITSELF UP TO THIS TIME; AND THE MOST SURPRISING
EPITAPH OF A VICTIM OF STRATEGY.

WASHINGTON, D.C., April 12th, 1863.

Depressed, my boy, by that low-spirited sense of reverence for
shirt-collared Old Age, which is a part of my credulous nature, I
proceed to record that the Venerable Gammon has once more torn himself
from idolatrous Mugville to beam venerably upon all the capital the
nation has left; and as I mark how fatly he waves continual benediction
to the attached populace, I am impressed anew with the conviction of
the serious mental magnitude of large-sized Old Age. It was on Monday
that a delegation of anxious civilian chaps grovelled around this aged
idol of a mournful nation; and as soon as the awe-stricken spokesman of
the party had crawled within speaking distance of the Venerable Gammon,
he sniffed deferentially, and says he:

"Sire, we desire to know how soon we may expect an honorable peace to
end the present war, which it is perpetual bloodshed."

The Venerable Gammon placidly placed his beneficent right hand between
his patriarchal ruffles, and says he:

"My friends, this war is like a great struggle between two hostile
armies;