"Ah!" says the Ambassador, reflectively, "I cannot help to recollect dat signeeficant commencement of dees war at Bool Run."
Whereupon the three middle-aged gentlemen with no names nodded meaningly to each other, and murmured, in pitying chorus:
"Ah, yes indeed."
As I rode home to my hotel that night, my boy, and reflected upon the polished observations I had listened to, it seemed to me that Europe must indeed be superior to a weak young country like ours, and that Secretary Seward was but showing a proper respect for the dignity of monarchies in yielding gracefully to them whatever they asked, and establishing in American history its first creation of knighthood, under the title of Sir Render. The Sword of '76 would have refused the accolade; but that of '63 is of a milder temper.
On Wednesday, as I strolled lazily along the shore of Awlkuyet River, listlessly tossing pebbles into the placid stream, and paying no attention to any visible object save the severed branches of trees and broken fragments of artillery-wheels which occasionally barred my progress, a Mackerel picket suddenly touched me on the shoulder, and says he, in a whisper,—
"You mustn't be chucking stones into that air water, or you'll wake up the Captain which is asleep."
I glanced askance at him from under my vizor, and says I, "What Captain, my trooper?"
"Why," says he, "the Captain of the Blockade, over yonder."
I looked in the direction indicated by his finger, my boy, and beheld the sloop-of-war Morpheus at anchor near a small inlet leading to the river from the up-country.
"Why, my Union champion," says I, wonderingly, "I should like to know at what time the Captain makes it a practice to retire?"