man. Looking over a letter of four full-sized
pages, and standing up with some show of irritation, he said, "I wish
people would not write me advice," and he tore the letter in two; and,
repeating the remark, tore it into small bits which he threw upon the
floor. He mentioned the name of the writer, who, I knew, was a friend
and neighbor.

I may be permitted to narrate a personal incident which occurred before
I left Montgomery. One evening about sunset, while I was waiting in the
office of the Secretary of War, for the comparatively insignificant sum
of money to be provided for my expenses to England, Mr. Davis greeted me
as Major. I replied: "I might ask, Mr. President, in what regiment,"
having in mind the well known anecdote of the subaltern who, on handing
the Emperor Napoleon his chapeau which had fallen, was thanked under the
title of captain. Mr. Davis then explained the principle he had laid
down for himself in appointing officers who had been in the U. S. army.
It was to advance no one more than one grade. He said that Beauregard
was only a captain of engineers, and had been made a brigadier general;
but in this, the rule had not been violated, for, by serving at West
Point as superintendent although for a few days only--five, as shown by
the records--he was a colonel in the army, and had, therefore, been
advanced but one grade. Mr. Davis remarked that there were officers
enough for all field purposes, but the trouble was to find men qualified
to prepare the army for its work.

I had arranged to pass through Charleston in order that I might visit
Sumter and see the effect of the artillery fire upon it. Arriving in
Charleston in the evening I went to Morris Island the following morning,
and from there in a row-boat to Sumter, accompanied by two young
artillery captains. We were all young in those days; I was just thirty,
and these young men were my juniors by some years. They had both been
under my instruction as cadets at West Point when I was on duty there,
but I cannot now recall their names. On our return from Sumter, we three
lay on the warm sand near the shore, and naturally the conversation was
chiefly on the events of the last few days. In the course of our talk, I
remarked, "What in the world made Anderson surrender the fort?" For in
my opinion it was no more damaged for defence than a brick wall would
be by a boy's snapping marbles against it. As for anything the
Confederate artillery could bring to