The intellectual women of America draw it rather tempestuously when they try to reproduce gorgeous manhood; but they mean well, my boy,--they mean well. Yours, in a brown study, ORPHEUS C. KERR. LETTER X. MAKING CONSERVATIVE MENTION OF THE BATTLE OF BULL RUN AND ITS EVENTS. THE FIRE-ZOUAVE'S VERSION OF THE AFFAIR, AND SO ON. WASHINGTON, D.C., July 28th, 1861. We have met the enemy at last, my boy; but I don't see that he's ours. We went after him with flying banners, and I noticed when we came back that they were flying still! Honor to the brave who fell on that bloody field! and may we kill enough secessionists to give each of them a monument of Southern skulls! I was present at the great battle, my boy, and appointed myself a special guard of one of the baggage-wagons in the extreme rear. The driver saw me coming, and says he: "You can't cut behind this here wehicle, my fine little boy." I looked at him for a moment, after the manner of the late great actor, Mr. Kirby, and says I: "Soldier, hast thou a wife?" Says he: "I reckon." "And sixteen small children?" Says he: "There was only fifteen when last heard from." "Soldier," says I, "were you to die before to-morrow, what would be your last request?" Here I shed two tears. "It would be," says he, "that some kind friend would take the job of walloping my offspring for a year on contract, and finding my beloved wife in subjects to jaw about." "Soldier," says I, "I'm your friend and brother. Let me occupy a seat by your side." And he didn't let me do it. Just at this moment, something burst, and I found myself going up at the rate of two steeples and a shot-tower a second. I met a Fire Zouave on the way down, and says he: "Towhead, if you see any of our boys up where you're goin' to, just tell them to hurry down; fur there's goin' to be a row, and Nine's fellers 'll take that ere four-gun hydrant from the seceshers in less time than you can reel two yards of hose." As I was _very_ tired I did not go all the way up; but turned back at the first cloud, and returned hastily to the scene of strife. I happened to light on a very fat secesher, who was doing a little running for exercise. Down he went, with me on top of him. He was dreadfully scared; but says he to me: "I've =seen you before, by the gods!" I winked at him, and commenced to sharpen my sword on a stone. "Tell me," says he, "had you a female mother?" "I had," says I. "And a masculine father?" "He wore breeches." "Then you _are_ my long lost grandfather!" says the secesher, endeavoring to embrace me. "It won't do," says I; "I've been to the Bowery Theatre myself;" and with that I took off his neck-tie and wiped my nose with it. This action was so repugnant to the feelings of a Southern gentleman, that he immediately died on my hands; and there I left him.