fine weather,
favorable winds, and company both pleasant and fair, could make it. On
the thirteenth day, towards evening, I found myself in the familiar
Adelphi, at Liverpool, savoring some "clear" turtle, not with a less
relish because, in the accurately pale face of the waiter who brought in
the lordly dish, there was not the faintest yellow tinge nor a ripple of
"wool" in his hair.

All of my personal narrative that could possibly interest the most
indulgent public is told now; if the few words I have left to say should
bore you--O patient reader!--they will at least be free of egotism.

CHAPTER XII.

A POPULAR ARMAMENT.

It was ordained that the navy should reap all the boys and the men that
were to be gathered in the warfare of this spring. The amphibious
failures in the southwest involved no graver consequences than a vast
futile expenditure of Northern time, money, and men; such waste has been
too common, of late, to excite much popular disgust or surprise. In
other parts, the keenest correspondent has been put to great straits for
memorable matter; for a skirmish, or a raid, even on a large scale, can
hardly carry much beyond a local interest.

On the last day of April, the summer land-campaign began in earnest,
when its truculent commander led the "finest army on the planet" across
the Rappahanock, unopposed.

If all other warlike music was prudently silent then, be sure, the
General's own private trumpet flourished very sonorously; indeed, for
many days past it had not ceased to ring. Few armaments have set forth
under more pompous auspices. First came the great review, graced by the
presence of the White House Court, who witnessed the marching past of
the biennial veterans with perfect patience, if not satisfaction. The
"specials" of the Republican papers outdid themselves on that occasion;
magnificently ignoring his temporary dignity, they hesitated not to
compare each member of the President's family with a corresponding
European royalty, giving, of course, the preference to the
home-manufactured article: it was good to read their raptures over the
gallant bearing of Master Lincoln, as if "the young Iulus" (as they
_would_ call him) had shown himself worthy of high hereditary honors.
One writer, I think, did allow, that the balance of grace might incline
rather to Eugenie the Empress, than to the President's stout,
good-tempered spouse; but he was much more cynical or conscientious than
mos