"Was it the real insect?" says the Alderman. "It was a real, original, genuine Anaconda," says the chap. "Ah!" says the Alderman, "somebody's been stuffin' you." "No, sir!" says the chap, "but somebody's been stuffin' the Anaconda, though." He'd been to the Museum. If there should be among your unfortunate readers, my boy, any persons of such depraved minds as to perceive a likeness between this Anaconda and that Anaconda, may they be sent to Fort Lafayette, and compelled to read Tupper's poems until the rabbit of rebellion is reduced to his last quarter! Early this morning a couple of snuff-colored pickets brought a female Southern Confederacy into camp, stating that she had called them nasty things and spit all over their guns. She said that she wanted to see the loathsome creature that commanded them, and her eyes flashed so when they took her by the arm, that her vail took fire twice, and her eyebrows smoked repeatedly. The General of the Mackerel Brigade received her courteously, only poking her in the ribs to see if she had any Armstrong guns concealed about her. Says he: "Have I the honor of addressing the wife of the Southern Confederacy?" The female confederacy drew herself up as proudly as the First Family of Virginia when the butcher's bill comes to be paid, and replied, in soprano of great compass:-- "I am that injured woman, you ugly swine." The General bowed until his lips touched a pewter mug on the table, and then says he: "My dear madam, your words touch a tender chord in my heart, and it will give me pleasure to serve you. Your words, madam," continued the general, with visible emotion, "are precisely those which my beloved wife not unfrequently addresses to me. Ah! my wife! my wifey!" says the general, hysterically, "how often have you patted me on my head, and told me that my face looked like a chunk of beeswax with three cracks in it." The wife of the Southern Confederacy sneered audibly, and called for a fan. There being no fan nearer than the office of Secretary Welles, she used a small whisk-broom. Says she: "Miserable hireling of a diabolical Lincoln, your wife is nothing to me. She is a creature! I do not come here to hear her wrongs, but to express the undying wish that you and all your horde may be welcomed with muddy hands to hospitable graves. All I want is to be let alone." "My dear Mrs. S. C.," says the general, with a touch of brass and irony, "it is a matter of the utmost indifference to me whether you are 'to be let alone,' or with the next house and lot." "I insist upon being let alone," screamed the female Confederacy, spitting angrily. "I am not touching you," says the general. "All I want is to be let alone," shrieked the exasperated lady; "and I _will_ be let alone!" The General of the Mackerel Brigade hastily wiped his mouth with a bottle, and then says he: "Madam, if sandwiches are not plenty where you come from, it ain't for the want of tongue."