Theodore Winthrop

“ No doggerel had been written about Scrammel. No lyric named him hero. “Your friend seems to have a taste for the office of kidnapper,” he caitiffly sneered to Livingston, under cover of his own hand, which tweaked the Scrammel nose as he spoke.
“He has a taste for doing what no one else dares,” rejoined the other. “Your nose is safe from him, even if he overhears you. I say, Skerrett, I don’t feel so lazy as I did. Take me with you. I know this country by leagues and by inches.” ”

“ Scrammel was a handsomish man with a baddish face. A man with his cut of jib and shape of beak hardly ever weathers the lee shore of perdition. For want of a moustache to twirl, he had a trick of pulling his nose. Perhaps he was training that feature for tweaks to come.
“Blaze away, Scrammel!” said his General; “you always have some ambush or other in your head.”
“Lady Brothertoft’s nigger, the butler, is up here with the latest news from below. I have just been out to speak to him.”
“What, Scrammel!” says Livingston, sotto voce. ”

“ Where is that negro of Lady Brothertoft’s, Scrammel?”
“I left him talking to Lincoln. Major Skerrett will easily find him.”
“He was my wiggy friend,” thought Skerrett.
“Don’t fail to bag Kerr,” says Livingston. “He wants a Yankee education, — so does all England.”
“Yes,” says Radière, “we must have these Kurr at school. We must teach to them civility through our noses of rebels. We must flogge them with roddes from the Liberté-Tree. They shall partake our pork and bean. Yankee Doodle shall play itself to them on our two whistles and a tambour. Go, my Skerrett! Liberty despatch thee! ”