e consolation of those
who don't happen to be engaged in any stupendous victories, that, had
opportunity so served, they might have been heroes too. If you are not,
friend, it is not your fault, whilst I don't wish to detract from
any gentleman's reputation who is. There. My worst enemy can't take
objection to that. The point might have been put more briefly perhaps;
but, if you please, we will not argue that question.

Well, then. The victories which I wish especially to commemorate in
this paper, are the six great, complete, prodigious, and undeniable
victories, achieved by the corps which the editor of the Cornhill
Magazine has the honor to command. When I seemed to speak disparagingly
but now of generals, it was that chief I had in my I (if you will
permit me the expression). I wished him not to be elated by too much
prosperity; I warned him against assuming heroic imperatorial airs, and
cocking his laurels too jauntily over his ear. I was his conscience,
and stood on the splash-board of his triumph-car, whispering, "Hominem
memento te." As we rolled along the way, and passed the weathercocks on
the temples, I saluted the symbol of the goddess Fortune with a reverent
awe. "We have done our little endeavor," I said, bowing my head, "and
mortals can do no more. But we might have fought bravely and not won. We
might have cast the coin, calling, 'Head,' and lo! Tail might have come
uppermost." O thou Ruler of Victories!--thou Awarder of Fame!--thou
Giver of Crowns (and shillings)--if thou hast smiled upon us, shall we
not be thankful? There is a Saturnine philosopher, standing at the
door of his book-shop, who, I fancy, has a pooh-pooh expression as the
triumph passes. (I can't see quite clearly for the laurels, which
have fallen down over my nose.) One hand is reining in the two white
elephants that draw the car; I raise the other hand up to--to the
laurels, and pass on, waving him a graceful recognition. Up the Hill
of Ludgate--around the Pauline Square--by the side of Chepe--until it
reaches our own Hill of Corn--the procession passes. The Imperator is
bowing to the people; the captains of the legions are riding round the
car, their gallant minds struck by the thought, "Have we not fought as
well as yonder fellow, swaggering in the chariot, and are we not as good
as he?" Granted, with all my heart, my dear lads. When your consulship
arrives, may you be as fortunate. When these hands, now growing old,
shall lay down s