Suffer me, my boy, to direct your attention to the Congress of our once distracted country, which is now shedding a beautiful lustre over the whole nation, and exciting that fond emotion of admiration which inclines the human foot to perform a stern duty. "Congress," says Captain Samyule Sa-mith, nodding to the bar-keeper, and designating a particular bottle with his finger--"Congress," says he, "is a honor and a ornament to our bleeding land. The fortunes of war may fluctuate, the rose may fade; but Congress is ever stable. Yes," says Samyule, in a beautiful burst of enthusiasm, softly stirring the Oath in his tumbler with a toothpick, "Congress is stable--in short, a stable full of mules." The Conservatives from the Border States, my boy, look upon the Southern Confederacy as a brother, whom it is our duty to protect against the accursed designs of the fiendish Abolitionists, who would make this war one of bloodshed. They ignore all party feeling, support the Constitution as it was, in contra-distinction to what it is, and object to any Confiscation measure calculated to irritate our misguided brothers and sisters in that beautiful land where The suitor he goes to the planter so grand, And "Give me your daughter," says he, "For each unto other we've plighted our loves-- I love her and so she loves me," Says he, "And married we're wishing to be." The planter was deeply affected indeed, Such touching devotion to see; "The giving I couldn't afford; but I'll sell Her for six hundred dollars to thee," Says he, "Her mother was worth that to me." Which I quote from a sweet ballad I recently found among some rebel leave-ings at Yorktown. These conservative patriots, my boy, remind me of a chap I once knew in the Sixth Ward. A high moral chap, my boy, and full of venerable dignity. One night the virtuous cuss doing business next door to him, having just got a big insurance on his stock, and thinking himself safe for a flaming speculation, set fire to his own premises and then called "Murder" on the next corner. Out came the whole Fire Department, only stopping to have two fights and a scrimmage on the way, and pretty soon the water was pouring all over every house in the street except the one on fire. The high moral chap stuck his head out of the window, and says he: "This here fire ain't in my house, and I don't want no noise around this here residence." Upon this, some of our gallant firemen, who had just been into a fashionable drinking-shop not more than two blocks off, to see if any of the sparks had got in there, called to the chap to let them into his house, so that they might get at the conflagration more easily. "Never!" said the chap, shaking his nightcap convulsively; "I didn't set fire to Joneses, and I can't have no Fire Department running around my entries."