Just as the spectacled veterans gained this side of Duck Lake again, my boy, the Mackerel Chaplain was accosted by a Republican chap from Boston, and says he: "This really looks like action at last my friend. Our troops are evidently all enthusiasm to be led once more against the foe." The Chaplain shaded his eyes with his hand, to look at the speaker, and says he: "They are indeed enthusiastic, my friend. So enthusiastic, in fact, that at least half of them would not come back to this side at all." "Ah!" says the Republican chap; "the noble fellows." "Yes," says the Chaplain, as softly as though he were speaking in a sick-room; "they remain there sleeping upon their arms. And, oh, my friend, they will never come back again." He spoke truly, my boy: and may a kind Heaven see naught in the blood welling from their loyal hearts but the blush of a soldier's honor; the glow of a patriot fire in which all their human errors went up to God as the smoke of a glorious sacrifice. They sleep their last sleep upon the arms of their Country; and whether those arms, with which she folds them into her heart, be white with the ermine of winter, or green with the drapery of summer, the clasp shall be none the less strong with all a Mother's immortality of love. Yours, gravely, ORPHEUS C. KERR. LETTER LXXXVI. TOUCHING UPON A LATE OVATION TO A PARENT OF HIS COUNTRY; GIVING THE CONSERVATIVE KENTUCKY MAP OF ALL AMERICA; AND INTRODUCING A SECOND NEW GENERAL OF THE MACKEREL ORGANIZATION. WASHINGTON, D.C., March 8th, 1863. I have been very ill, my boy--I have been very ill; and even now, the hand which grasps the pen trembles with weakness, like the hand of the wind upon a slender rush. I have been reminded of my latter end, and of our Excellent National Democratic Organization, by an outrage upon my Constitution and the Arbitrary Arrest of my health,--proceedings which seem to prove that the well-known Southern Confederacy is entirely right in this war, and that the North is chiefly composed of Honest Old despots. (See proceedings of Democratic Organization, Resolution 290.) As I lay sick in Strategy Hall the other day, so desolately lonely that I almost wished to die, and without energy enough to finish reading the greenback I had commenced that morning, there came to see me an affable Democratic chap who had just recovered from a severe bilious attack brought on by the Conscription Bill, and wished to consult me as to the propriety of nominating Dr. Brandreth for President of the United States in 1865. "Why, my future Jefferson," says I, feebly, "what are you going to do with McClellan, then?"