It was an affecting sight, my boy; and as those two noble youths walked amicably back to the camp together, the fat surgeon remarked to Samyule Sa-mith that they reminded him of Damon and Pythias just returned from the Syracuse Convention. Yours, for the Code, ORPHEUS C. KERR. LETTER XXV. PRESENTING THE CHAPLAIN'S NEW YEAR POEM, AND REPORTING THE SINGULAR CONDUCT OF THE GENERAL OF THE MACKEREL BRIGADE ON THE DAY HE CELEBRATED. WASHINGTON, D.C., January 2d, 1862. Another year, my boy, has dawned upon a struggle in which the hopes of freedom and integrity all over the world are breathlessly involved; and if the day-star of Liberty is destined to go down into the ocean wave, what is to become of the unoffending negroes? I extract this beautiful passage, my boy, from the forthcoming speech of a fat Congressman, who is a friend to the human race, and charges the Administration with imbecility and with mileage. I conversed with him the other evening, and, after discussing various topics, asked him what he thought of the Washington statue as it stood? He winked three times, and then says he: "The only Washington statue I know anything about, is _statu quo_." The chaplain of the Mackerel Brigade joined seriously in our staff festivities on New Year's eve, my boy; but as midnight approached he grew very silent, and at a quarter of twelve he arose from his seat by the fire and asked permission to read something which he had written. "I would not retard your inevitable inebriation," says he to us, as he drew a manuscript from one of his pockets, "but it is only fitting that we should pay some regard to "THE DYING YEAR. "Dying at last, Old Year! Another stroke of yonder clock, and thou Wilt pass the threshold of the world we see Into the world where Yesterday and Now Blend with the hours of the No More To Be. "I saw the moon last night Rise like a crown from the dim mountain's head, And to the Council of the Stars take way; For thou, the king, though kinsman of the dead, Swayed still the sceptre of Another Day. "I see the moon to-night, Sightless and misty as a mourner's eye, Behind a vail; or, like a coin to seal The lids of Time's last-born to majesty, Touched with the darkness of a hidden Leal. "Mark where yon shadow crawls By slow degrees beneath the window-sill, Timed by the death-watch, ticking slow and dull; The tide of night is rising, black and still-- Old Year, thou diest when 'tis at its full! "Ay! moan and moan again, And shake all Nature in thine agony, And tear the ermine robes that mock thee now Like gilded fruit upon a blasted tree; To-morrow comes! To-morrow, where are Thou?