I went over to Virginia the other day to review Berdan's Sharpshooters, and was much astonished, my boy, at their wonderful skill with the rifle. The target is a little smaller than the side of a barn, with a hole through the centre exactly the size of a bullet. They set this up, my boy, just six hundred yards away, and fire at it in turn. After sixty of them had fired, I went with them to the target, but couldn't see that it had been hit by a single bullet. I remarked this to the captain, whereupon he looked pityingly at me, and says he: "Do you see that hole in the bull's eye, just the size of a bullet?" I allowed that I did. "Well," says he, "the bullets all went through that hole." Now I don't mean to say that the captain lied, my boy; but it's my opinion--my private opinion, my boy, that if he ever writes a work of fiction, it will sell! La Mountain has been up in his balloon, and went so high that he could see all the way to the Gulf of Mexico, and observe what they had for dinner at Fort Pickens. He made discoveries of an important character, my boy, and says that the rebels have concentrated several troops at Manassas. A reporter of the _Tribune_ asked him if he could see any negro insurrections, and he said that he _did_ see some black spots moving around near South Carolina, but found out afterward that they were some ants which had got into his telescope. The Prince de Joinville's two sons, my boy, are admirable additions to General McClellan's staff, and speak English so well that I can almost understand what they say. Two Arabs are expected here tomorrow to take command of Irish brigades, and General Blenker will probably have two Aztecs to assist him in his German division. Yours, musingly, ORPHEUS C. KERR. LETTER XVIII. DESCRIBING THE TERRIBLE DEATH AND MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE OF A CONFEDERATE PICKET, WITH A TRIBUTE TO HIS MEMORY. WASHINGTON, D.C., October 28th, 1861. My head swells with patriotic pride when I casually remark that the Mackerel Brigade occupy the post of honor to the left of Bull Run, which they also left on the day we celebrated. The banner which was presented to us by the women of America, and which it took the orator of the day six hours and forty minutes to describe to us, we are using in the shape of blazing neck-ties; and when the hard-up sun of Virginia shines upon the glorious red bands around the sagacious necks of our veterans, they all look as though they had just cut their throats. The effect is gory, my boy--extremely gory and respectable.