its rear protected, its position was one which we ourselves
consider very comfortable.

It was thus in an admirable situation for holding a review or for
discussing the Constitution of the United States in reference to the
right of secession.

The following generals rode up and down in front of the army, namely,
Mr. A. P. Hill, Mr. Longstreet, and Mr. Joseph Johnston. All these three
celebrated men are thus presented to our readers at one and the same
time without extra charge.

But who is this tall, commanding figure who rides beside them, his head
bent as if listening to what they are saying (he really isn't) while his
eye alternately flashes with animation or softens to its natural
melancholy? (In fact, we can only compare it to an electric light bulb
with the power gone wrong.) Who is it? It is Jefferson C. Davis,
President, as our readers will be gratified to learn, of the Confederate
States.

It being a fine day and altogether suitable for the purpose, General
Longstreet reined in his prancing black charger (during this distressed
period all the horses in both armies were charged: there was no other
way to pay for them), and in a few terse words, about three pages, gave
his views on the Constitution of the United States.

Jefferson Davis, standing up in his stirrups, delivered a stirring
harangue, about six columns, on the powers of the Supreme Court,
admirably calculated to rouse the soldiers to frenzy. After which
General A. P. Hill offered a short address, soldier-like and to the
point, on the fundamental principles of international law, which
inflamed the army to the highest pitch.

At this moment an officer approached the President, saluted and stood
rigidly at attention. Davis, with that nice punctilio which marked the
Southern army, returned the salute.

"Do you speak first?" he said, "or did I?"

"Let me," said the officer. "Your Excellency," he continued, "a young
Virginian officer has just been fished out of the Mississippi."

Davis's eye flashed. "Good!" he said. "Look and see if there are many
more," and then he added with a touch of melancholy, "The South needs
them: fish them all out. Bring this one here."

Eggleston Lee Carey Randolph, still dripping from the waters of the
bayou, was led by the faithful negroes who had rescued him before the
generals. Davis, who kept every thread of the vast panorama of the war
in his intricate brain, eyed him keenly and directed a few searching
questi