Worcester daily spy. [volume] (Worcester [Mass.]) 1850-1888, 1862-07-04

FROM IHe N sunday Mercury.
EDITOR T. T.-Not wishing to expire pre-
maturely of insanity, my dear boy l started
again last Sunday for Paris, where [ took up
my quarters with a dignifed conservative
chap from the border states, who came on for
the express purpose of informing the execu-
tive that Kentucky is determined this war
shall be carried on without detriment to the
material interest of the south, otherwise Ken
lucky will not be answerable for herself
Kentucky has married into the south, and has
relations there which she refuses to sacrifice
What does the constitution say about Ken
lucky? Why, it don't say anything about
her (Which is clear proof" says the con-
seryative chap, violently, ''that Kentucky is
expected to take care of herself. Kentucky
says he, buttoning his vest over the handle of
his bowie knife, 'Kentucky will stand no
nonsense whatsomever."
| have much respect for Kentucky my
boy; they play a good hand of old sledge
there, and train up a child in the way he
should go fifty better.
4 Speaking of dogs, must tell you
about felicitous canine incident that occur
red while l was at Paris. Early one morning
the Kentucky chap and were awakened by
great noise in the hall outside our door
Presently an aged and reliable contraband
stuck his head into the room, and says he =
81 golly, mars rs, dar's high fight gwine
on in dis var place"
At the word, my boy, we both sprung up
and went to the door, from whence we beheld
one Of those occurrences but too common in
this dreadful war of brother against brother.
Face to face in the hall stood my frescoed
dog, Bologna, and the regimental cat, Lord
Mortimer, cycling each other with looks of
High in air curved the back of the enraged
Mortimer, and whiskers worked with intense
wrath; while the elegant tail of the infatuated
Bologna shot into the air like living flag
staff.
''Oh-h-h! How-now?" calculated Bologna,
throwing out his nose to reconnoitre the enc
my's first line.
.'"Sdeath Sdeath!" hastily retorted Nor
timer, skirmishing along the first parallel
with spasmodic crawling.
And now, my boy, commenced a series of
scientific maneuvres that only Russell of the
London Times could describe properly. Lord
Mortimer advanced circularly to the attack in
four columns, affrighting the air with horrid
yells Of defiance; and | noticed, with feel
ing of mysterious awe, that his eyes had turn
ed dreadful green whilst an expression of
inexpressible bitterness overspread his coun-
tenance.
FathOming the enemy's plan at a glance,
Bologna presented his front and rear divisions
alternately, to distract the fire of the foe; and
then, by rapid and skilltul flank movement,
cut off portion of Lord Mortimer's tail from
the main body.
This reminds me of General Mitchell's tao
tics, my boy.
Here the conservative Kentucky chap
wanted to stop the fight Said he;
"Mortimer will be forever alienated if he
loses any more of his tail. protest against
the dogs teeth" says he; ''for they'll render
future reconciliation between the two impos-
sible. Let him use his paws alone" says the
conservative chap, reasoningly, "and he
won't injure Mortimer's constitution so
much"
"1 ou're too late with your talk about con-
citation, my noble Cicero says |. sit is
the cats nature to show affection for his young
ones, even, by licking them, and Mortimer
VIII never be convinced that Bologna cares
ior MN until he has been soundly licked by
him." y
CALDWELL" says the Kentucky chan
vaguely, ''let hostilities proceed"
Finding that the enemy had cut off n nor.
ton OF his train in the rear, Mortimer quick.
ly massed his four columns and precipitated
them upon the head of Bolognas two from
divisions, succeeding in destroying bark hail
launched, and driving him back four feet
"Hurroar for Mortimer !" says the Ken
lucky chap; and then he burst into the Con.
sentative Virginia National Anthem:
"John Smiths body lies a-mouderng in the grave
Twas him that Pocohontas risked her fathers an.
| ger to save;
And unto Old Virginia certain Chiyalry she gave,
| That still goes scalpng on"
"Calm your exultation, my impulsive Cata-
line" says |, 'and behold the triumph Of Bo-
logna"
Undaunted by the last claws of the foes
argument, my boy, the frescoed dog hurried
back the torrent of invasion, and with howl
of triumph, charged headlong upon Morti-
mer's works, routing the foe, who retreated
under cloud of fur.
looked to the conservative Kentucky chap
my boy, and | could see by his expression
that it would be useless for me to ask of hin
a contribution towards rewarding Bologna
with star-spangled kennel. He still felt neu
trail, my boy.
!