Special Correspondence of Punchinello.
(This paper is the only paper on the planet which has a correspondent at
the seat of war, wherever that seat may be. The following dispatch was
sent to us by cable at a total expense of $21,000.)
It was a still, calm night, the glorious moon was sailing through the
sky; the river was running water; the clouds were cloudy; the soldiers
were soldiering. I stepped out of my tent and tumbled over VON MOLTKE.
He took my arm and invited me to the tent of the Crown Prince.
"MOLTY," said I, "what's your little game?"
"Penny ante," replied he.
"_Tres bien,_" added I.
"You are a French spy. Ha! ha!" said he, grasping my collar. "Ho! Ho!"
"_Das ish goot,_" added I.
"Then you're Dutch," sighed he, dropping me like a hot pair of tongs.
In the tent we found the King, the Crown Prince, Gen. STEINMETZ, Gen.
SHERIDAN, and Gen. FORSYTH.
"MOLTY," said I, "introduce me to the King."
"BILL," said he, "this is JENKINS."
BILL held out his foot and I took a suck at his great toe.
Then we went at the game. BILL is pretty good at it, but then he doesn't
stand any chance beside MOLTY.
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