Just to think, that but a few short hours ago, you was a proud rooster--
was "cock of the walk," and was considered invincible. But, alas! you
have sunk so low as to become food for Federals! _Requiescat in pace_
you can crow no more.
OLD JOE BROWN'S PETS
By way of grim jest, and a fitting burlesque to tragic scenes, or, rather,
to the thing called "glorious war," old Joe Brown, then Governor of
Georgia, sent in his militia. It was the richest picture of an army I
ever saw. It beat Forepaugh's double-ringed circus. Every one was
dressed in citizen's clothes, and the very best they had at that time.
A few had double-barreled shotguns, but the majority had umbrellas and
walking-sticks, and nearly every one had on a duster, a flat-bosomed
"biled" shirt, and a plug hat; and, to make the thing more ridiculous,
the dwarf and the giant were marching side by side; the knock-kneed by
the side of the bow-legged; the driven-in by the side of the drawn-out;
the pale and sallow dyspeptic, who looked like Alex. Stephens, and who
seemed to have just been taken out of a chimney that smoked very badly,
and whose diet was goobers and sweet potatoes, was placed beside the
three hundred-pounder, who was dressed up to kill, and whose looks seemed
to say, "I've got a substitute in the army, and twenty negroes at home
besides--h-a-a-m, h-a-a-m.
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