illness of his son Willie, an interesting and most promising lad
of twelve, and his death in the White House on February 20.

When February 22 came, while there was plainly no full compliance with
the President's War Order No. I, there was, nevertheless, such promise
of a beginning, even at Washington, as justified reasonable expectation.
The authorities looked almost hourly for the announcement of two
preliminary movements which had been preparing for many days: one, to
attack rebel batteries on the Virginia shore of the Potomac; the other
to throw bridges--one of pontoons, the second a permanent bridge of
canal-boats--across the river at Harper's Ferry, and an advance by
Banks's division on Winchester to protect the opening of the Baltimore
and Ohio railroad and reestablish transportation to and from the West
over that important route.

On the evening of February 27, Secretary Stanton came to the President,
and, after locking the door to prevent interruption, opened and read two
despatches from McClellan, who had gone personally to superintend the
crossing. The first despatch from the general described the fine spirits
of the troops, and the splendid throwing of the pontoon bridge by
Captain Duane and his three lieutenants, for whom he at once recommended
brevets, and the immediate crossing of eighty-five hundred infantry.
This despatch was dated at ten o'clock the previous night. "The next is
not so good," remarked the Secretary of War. It stated that the lift
lock was too small to permit the canal-boats to enter the river, so that
it was impossible to construct the permanent bridge. He would therefore
be obliged to fall back upon the safe and slow plan of merely covering
the reconstruction of the railroad, which would be tedious and make it
impossible to seize Winchester.

"What does this mean?" asked the President, in amazement.

"It means," said the Secretary of War, "that it is a damned fizzle. It
means that he doesn't intend to do anything."

The President's indignation was intense; and when, a little later,
General Marcy, McClellan's father-in-law and chief of staff, came in,
Lincoln's criticism of the affair was in sharper language than was his
usual habit.

"Why, in the name of common sense," said he, excitedly, "couldn't the
general have known whether canal-boats would go through that lock before
he spent a million dollars getting them there? I am almost despairing at
these results. Everything seems t