door before George got there.  In short, all George saw of Mr. Beauregard and his men was the tails of their coats and the heels of their boots, away in the shadowy distance.  People said Mr. Beauregard did not do the clean thing to slip away in such a manner.  And there were those who scolded General George for letting him get off in this shabby way; but how he was to prevent it I never could see.  Mr. Beauregard was kind enough to leave us an army of log houses, and his smouldering camp fires, around which a number of sooty negroes were grouped, shivering and forlorn.  And these were all we had to be thankful to him for.

A great storm arose while we were at Manassas.  Snow, rain, and hail fell, the wind blew cold and piercing, and the face of the country became melancholy.  And the army became melancholy, and sick, for it was stuck in the mud, and was suffering for something to eat, though so near Washington.  And the poor animals got sick, and began dying, for there was nothing for them to eat.  There was no following Mr. Beauregard to Richmond over such a muddy road, which looked very long then, and very dangerous.  George was put to his wits to know what to do next.  There was no persuading Mr. Beauregard to stop long enough to let us strike him square in the stomach, so George hit upon a great plan, whereby wonders were to be worked in the art of strategy.  He conceived the grand idea of taking his army to sea, avoiding the mud, and after enjoying a pleasant voyage, finding a shorter and better road to Richmond.  We all know at what a disadvantage you can take a man when you get in his rear.  George felt that if he could take advantage of this on an enlarged plan he could have Mr. Beauregard just where he wanted him.  That is, if he could get in his rear before he got to Richmond, he would have him and his men hived, and could give them a good thrashing, and then step quietly in and take the city.  But it is not so easy a matter to get in the rear of a gentleman who keeps his eyes open.  Nor, my son, have I ever before heard that it was wise in a great general to perform a feat in grand circle sailing to gain an advantage over an adversary who occupied the same roads with him.  But George made up his mind that he knew better than all of us, so he took his army to sea, became a great navigator as well as a general, and sailed for the Peninsula, where some good friend had told him there were finer weather and harder roads.

The greatest of generals, my son, are liable to disappointment.  They may drive the enemy, and win victories; but they cannot control the elements.  That was what bothered George.  It was all very pleasant to give his army an airing at sea, but when he was safely landed on the Peninsula, he found himself further from Richmond than when he started.  Instead of mud he found dangerous quicksands, into which his army plunged and sank almost out of sight.  And there was no better weather on the Peninsula than at Manassas.  His cavalrymen, when they had got their sea-legs off, and mounted, cut a sorry figure in the quicksand.  And his artillery sunk above its boots.  Indeed it was with the greatest difficulty his army could be kept on the surface.  There was no getting a firm understanding.