"My brother! my brother!" says he, eyeing his horrible trophy with tearful emotion. "O! that I should live to see your beloved skull turned into a cheese-box by rebels! You was a Boston alderman, a moral man, and a candidate for the Legislature, before you came to this here horrid war to be killed by rebels, and have your skull aggravated into a secession utensil." Here the General of the Mackerel Brigade glanced at the heart-sickening trophy, and says he to the Mackerel chap: "Why, you poor ignorant cuss! that there is nothing but a cocoanut-shell hollowed out." "Is it?" says the inferior Mackerel, brightening up, "is it? Well," says he, feelingly, "I took it for the skull of my brother, the Boston Alderman--it's so hard and thick." These beautiful displays of fraternal emotion are quite frequent, my boy, and are calculated to shed a lustre of sanctity over the discoveries of our troops. The capture of Richmond being deferred until the younger drummers of the brigade are old enough to vote in that city, I found Captain Villiam Brown and Captain Bob Shorty seated at a table in a tent--the former being engaged with a pen and a decanter, while the latter drew a map of the campaign with a piece of lemon-peel dipped in something fragrant. It was beautiful to look at these two slashing heroes, as they sat there in the genial glare of canvas-strained noon-day, with a quart vessel between them. "Comrade," says Captain Bob Shorty to me, cordially, "this here is what we call intellectual relaxation, with a few liquid vowels to make it consonant with our tastes." "Yes!" says Captain Villiam Brown, with a fascinating and elaborate wink at the decanter, "the physical man having taken Manassas, the human intelleck is now in airy play. Ah!" says Villiam, majestically passing me the disentangled curl-paper on which he had been writing, "read what I have penned for the perusal of the United States of America." I grasped the document, my boy, and found on it inscribed the following efficacious effusion: FLOYD. Felonious Floyd, far-famed for falsifying, Forever first from Federal forces flying, From fabrications fanning Fortune's flame, Finds foul Fugacity factitious Fame. Fool! facile Fabler! Fugitive flagitious! Fear for Futurity, Filcher fictitious! Fame forced from Folly, finding fawners fled, Feeds final Failure--failure fungus-fed. By CAPTAIN VILLIAM BROWN, Eskevire. "Well, my juvenile Union-blue," says Villiam, smiling like a successful cherubim, "what do you think of that piece of American intelleck?" "I think," says I, "that it is worthy of an F. F. V." What followed, my boy, is none of your business, though a sentry near by subsequently observed that he heard the sound of soft, mellifluous gurgles come from the interior of the tent. Poetry, my boy, is man's best gift; and that, I suppose, is the reason why it is so popular in young women's boarding-schools. Yours, in particular metre,