wling-piece at the "Aitch"
knocking off two of her front covers, breaking several bars of her
grates, and piercing her oven in numerous places. Instantly the cry
arose of "One of the cooking-stoves is sinking!" which so bewildered
Rear-Admiral Head that he discharged his swivel-gun one point too far
to the windward, and immediately found his flagship entangled on
several strings with which the Confederacies had obstructed the
passage.

"Disable my Patapsco!" exclaimed the indomitable old Neptune, in his
iron-plated manner, "the insects have tied us fast,--bend my turrets if
they haven't."

At this time, my boy, the concentrated fire of the Fort was terrific,
six horse-pistols being in full play at once, and the Mackerel with the
quart measure amidships reporting that the turret of the
"Shockingbadhat" had been hit three quarts of times in thirty seconds.

Such being the case, and the European delegation having gone home with
a view to shaking off their inclination to fall asleep, the stern old
commander ordered a wet blanket to be thrown over his swivel-gun, and
such of the iron-plated squadron as had not sunk were immediately run
ashore. The affair had been merely a reconnoissance.

Shortly after the conclusion of this terrible artillery duel, and a few
minutes subsequent to a touching exchange of congratulations between
the unconquerable Rear-Admiral and his venerable grandmother, there
hastily arrived from Paris an obese middle-aged chap, in black cotton
gloves and a scratch wig, and says he to the Admiral:

"Allow me to bless you, Sir,--My name is Hunter, Sir,--for your
excellent iron-clad conduct. We should all be grateful, sir, that you
have passed safely through 'a concentric fire that has never heretofore
had a parallel in the history of warfare.'"

Never heretofore had a parallel! What could he have meant, my boy? How
could a _concentric_ fire have a _parallel_ at any time?

Yours, questioningly,

ORPHEUS C. KERR.

LETTER XCIII.

TEEMING WITH CONSUMMATE STRATEGY, AND RELATING AN EXTRAORDINARY
GEOMETRICAL EFFORT OF MILITARY GENIUS.

WASHINGTON, D.C., May 10th, 1863.

As it was feared on Sunday last, my boy, that the venerable Mackerel
Brigade was about to commit a breach of the peace by strategically
assaulting the Confederacies established in the mud between the
Mackerel camp and the ancient City of Paris, I mounted my architectural
steed, the Gothic Pegasus, at an early hour in