tre. The various
intersecting streets I should have named numerically, commencing with
'First Street,' which faces upon the Atlantic and Pacific Canal, and so
going on to 'One Hundred and Seventy-sixth street,' and so on. These
streets would have been occupied exclusively by brown-stone-front
residences, with a flag-staff bearing our national banner on the roof
of each one, and rented to small private families without children. The
full lots on the main street would have been used for the City Hall,
the Lunatic Asylum, the Custom House, the Home for Deranged Persons,
the Merchants' Exchange, the Corn Exchange, the Refuge for the Insane,
the Grain Elevator, the Institution for Friendless Maniacs, the
Principal Pork-Packing Establishment, the Hall of Records, the Office
of the Superintendent of Central Parks, the Madman's Snug Harbor, and
the Municipal Bar-Room. The sixty-eight principal banks would have
discounted bills of exchange at sight, for the benefit of the numerous
foreign vessels constantly arriving at the principal pier by way of the
Atlantic and Pacific Canal, and the Fire Department would have been
limited to twenty-three hundred hose-carriages and engines, with an
educated Chief Engineer." Here the thoughtful Democratic chap gnashed
his teeth, and says he:

"But the City of Rome has been entirely retarded by this here Black
Republican New England war upon the sunny South, with which the great
North-west has no earthly quarrel whatsoever."

I was pondering a reply to this very reasonable speech, my boy, when
word was suddenly brought that one of the Mackerel pickets had just
assassinated a young Confederacy, who had only fired twice upon his
inhuman murderer. No sooner did the thoughtful Proprietor of the City
of Rome hear this sickening news than he at once formed the other
Democratic chaps into a coroner's jury, and hastily proceeded to hold a
high moral inquest upon the body of the lamented deceased.

There being no witnesses to examine, and nothing in the pocket-book
found upon the body, the proprietor of Rome removed two tears with his
red silk handkerchief, and briefly summoned up the case. Kneeling
desolately beside the cold remains, and taking one of the lifeless
hands within his own, he sniffed feelingly, and says he:

"The young man which is here before us is another of them noble souls
that have fallen gory sacrifices to the Mulock of War."

"You mean 'Moloch of War,'" says a juryman.

Where