Were I to decide this question in favor of the United States of America, I should forever forfeit the right of every American citizen to treat niggers as sailable articles, since I would thereby deny their right to sail. The Congress of the United States of America has been fighting for this right for more than a quarter of a century, and I cannot find it in me heart to debar it of that divine privilege for the future. I might cite Wheaton, Story, Bulwer, Kent, Marryat, Sheridan, and Busteed, to sustain my position, were I familiar with those international righters. Therefore I am compelled to humble your lordship's government by returning the two black beings aforesaid, and beg leave to assure your lordship that I am your lordship's only darling, VILLIAM BROWN, Eskevire, Captain Conic Section, Mackerel Brigade. After reading this able and brilliant document, my boy, I told Villiam that I thought he had made a very good point about negroes always being "sailable articles," and he said that was diplomacy. "Ah!" says he, sadly, "my father always said that if you could not get over a rail fence by high-jump-acy, there was nothing like dip-low-macy. My dad was a natural statesman. Ah!" says Villiam, in a fine burst of filial emotion, "I wonder where the durned old fool is now." This idea plunged him into such a depth of reverie, that I left him without another word, mounted Pegasus, and ambled reflectively back to the Capitol. Diplomacy brings out the intellect of a nation, my boy, and is a splendid thing to use until we get our navy finished. Yours, in memory of Metternich, ORPHEUS C. KERR. LETTER XXVIII. CONCERNING THE CONTINUED INACTIVITY OF THE POTOMAC ARMY, AND SHOWING HOW IT WAS POETICALLY CONSTRUED BY A THOUGHTFUL RADICAL. WASHINGTON, D.C., January 30th, 1862. Notwithstanding the hideous howlings of the Black Republicans, my boy, and the death of six Confederate pickets from old age, the Army of the Potomac will not commence the forward movement until the mud subsides sufficiently to show where some of the camps are. The Mackerel Brigade dug out a regiment yesterday, near Alexandria; but there's no use of continuing the business without a dredging-machine. I was talking to Captain Bob Shorty, on Tuesday, respecting the inactivity of the army, and says he: "It's all very well to talk about making an advance, my beauty; but I've known one of the smartest men in the country to fail in it." "What mean you, fellow?" says I. "Why," says he, "you know Simpson, your uncle?" "I believe you, my boy!" says I. "Well!" says Captain Bob Shorty, "that air Simpson is one of the smartest old cusses in the country--yet there ain't no 'On to Richmond' about _him_. I asked him once, myself, to make an advance. I asked him to make an advance on my repeater, and he said he couldn't."