Facing toward Washington, our vanguard forced the Confederacies before them to move right ahead. Swiftly following the vanguard, and evidently fancying that it was flying before them, came a regiment of Confederacies. Pursuing the latter, as though in triumph, appeared the Conic Section, Mackerel Brigade; closely succeeded in its turn by a regiment of Confederacies in charge of our baggage-wagons; racing after whom was a regiment of Mackerels; and so on to the end of the line. You may ask me, my boy, with which side rested the victory in this remarkable movement? That question, my boy, cannot be decided yet, as the whole procession has scarcely reached Washington; but the answer may be said to depend very much upon whether the last regiment coming in is Mackerel or Confederate. The contest, my boy, has assumed a profound metaphysical aspect, and the development of a little more military genius on our own side will tend to utterly confound our enemies and--everybody else. Yours, ponderingly, ORPHEUS C. KERR. LETTER LXVIII. INTRODUCING ONCE MORE THE COSMOPOLITAN CLUB, WITH A CURIOUS "LAMENT," AND A STORY FROM THE SPANISH MEMBER. WASHINGTON, D. C., September 9th, 1862. You may remember, my boy, that some months ago there was a trespass of depraved burglarious chaps at Wheatland, the seat of Ex-President Buchanan. The matter might have slipped my own mind, had not the British member of the Cosmopolitan, last night, read aloud the following memorandum of the thing, found in a deserted Confederate camp on the Rappahannock. The Briton waved his hand for silence, and says he: LAMENT. BY A CHEVALIER D'INDUSTRIE It really seems as if the trick Of this here game, secession, Was bound to bring disgrace upon Each wirtuous profession. The days of chivalry are gone, When gentlemen wos plucky, And sooner'd starve than lower themselves To make their swag and lucky. Why, when I wos a little prig, And took the junior branches, We all looked down upon the chap That traveled vulgar ranches. It wos beneath a gentleman To stoop to vulgar stealin's; And when I see how things is changed, It really hurts my feelin's. We had some dignity, you see, And upper circles knew it; For if a thing wos wicious mean, We wos too proud to do it! The crib that wos respectable Among the higher classes, We cracked in style, like gentlemen. And took the spoons and glasses. But when a crib wos something low-- An author's, or a preacher's-- We had too much of self-respect To recognize the creatures. If taking watches wos the lay, Or handkerchers, or purses, We never noticed wulgar nobs, Nor wictims of rewerses.