The Manchester Journal

Miles O'Reilly, a private in the N. Y. 47th, engaged in the siege of Charleston, recently wrote a poem in which he ridiculed the slow tactics of Admiral Dahlgren. He was put under arrest for disrespect to his superiors, when he addressed a poetic petition to the Secretary of War, of which the following is the conclusion:

Och! Stanton, our great "god o' war,"
My condition I pity you see
And if you have go any bowels to mull
Let your bowels be melted for me,
For I come of the davilish people
In the beautiful town of Tralee,
Where praties an' whiskey is plenty,
(An' devil recay ve the provost marshal we have there at all at all, though we have the "peelers."
-bad cess to 'em-who are worse, if such a thing wor possible)-
An' they know both beart and kure
To treat like the gin ould Admiral-
A type of the oulden times!
God be good to you, Misther Stanton,
An' look kindly on me case,
An' to the man wid Methuselah's beard
An' the patriarchal face,
(I mane ould Uncle Gideon)
Just ax him to show me grace.
For which I will, as in duty bound-
If he gets me out of this place-
Do for him an' for you all that ever I can-
(Votin' airly an' votin' often for yez both or for arther of you, if yez ever chance to be candydate in any disthrict or county where I can get within ten rods of the ballot box.)
An' now my name I thrace-
Miles O'Reilly, who wrote o' the Admiral,
As he's havin' a hard ould time.

The above was submitted to President Lincoln, whose love of a joke secured the release of O'Reilly. On being released he sent a hymn of thanks to the President, beginning:

Long life to you, Mr. Lincoln:
May you die both late an' aisy;
An' whin you lie wid the top o' your head
Turned up to the roots o' a daisy,
May this be your epitaph, nately writ:
Though traitors abused him vilely,
He was honest an' kindly, an' loved a joke,
An' he pardoned Miles O'Reilly.