Tiring of experimental camping-out in a hotel, a few gentlemen hired a house and established a "mess." They were all notables—General Cooper, General Meyers, Dr. DeLeon, Colonel Deas and others, the three first being adjutant-general, quartermaster-general and surgeon-general of the new army. A chief of department, or two and this writer, completed the occupants of "the Ranche," as it was early christened by "the colonel;" and its piazza soon became the favorite lounging-place in the evening of the better and brighter elements of the floating population. There was sure to be found the newest arrival, if he were worth knowing; the latest papers and news "from across;" and, as the blue smoke of the Havanas floated lazily out on the soft summer night, many a jovial laugh followed it and a not infrequent prediction of scenes to come almost prophetic. And of the lips that made these most are now silent forever—stilled in the reddest glow of battle, with the war-cry hot upon them.
So far the news that came in from all quarters continued cheering. A vague sense of doubt and suspense would creep in when one stopped to think, but nothing terrible, or shocking, had yet happened anywhere. Though the nation was going down to battle, its banners were flaunting gaily and its bands were playing anything but dirges.
CHAPTER III.
CONGRESS AND CABINET.
The proposition that, shown who writes the ballads of a country, one may tell who makes its laws, is far from reversible in many instances; and assuredly the lawmakers of the Confederacy looked little like poets.
When the councils of a country are assembled for work, it is but natural to look for a body of grave and reverend—if not most potent—seigniors. And especially, when a new government is forming from selected fragments of the old, might one expect a pure and simple structure, free from those faults and weaknesses which sowed the seeds of disintegration in the elder fabric.
It was too much the fashion to believe that the Confederacy—having sprung full-grown from foam of the angry sea of politics—was full-armed as well. A revolution, unprecedented in the world's history, had already been achieved. A strongly cemented and firmly seated government had been disrupted; and a new one, built from the dissevered fragments, had been erected almost under the shadow of its Capitol. And no drop of blood had been spilled! Six millions of people had uprisen and, by a simple declaration of will, had in a few short weeks undone the work of near a century. Without arms in their hands; without a keel in their waters; without a dollar in their treasury, they arrayed themselves against the mother government with the serious purpose of not only asserting, but maintaining, their independence of it.
So far, all had been accomplished without violence. But, whatever the simpler masses might expect, the initiated politician could scarce have believed that the older government would meekly submit to "Let the erring sisters go in peace." Hence, one might justly have looked to see the executive council of the new nation—to whom had been intrusted its safety and its hopes—with every thought bent, every nerve strained to the one vital point—preparation! One could only have expected measures simple as energetic; laws clear, concise and comprehensive; care only for the arming, organizing and maintenance of the people.
Blessed are they who expect nothing! One glance at the "Congress of the Confederate States of America," as it sat in the Capitol at Montgomery, told the whole story of its organization and of its future usefulness.