ongest secession proclivities.
Of course, I endeavored to avoid the topics on which we were certain
to differ, but my new acquaintance was determined to provoke a
discussion. With a few preliminaries, she throw out the question:

"Now, don't you think the Southern soldiers have shown themselves
the bravest people that ever lived, while the Yankees have proved the
greatest cowards?"

"I can hardly agree with you," I replied. "Your people have certainly
established a reputation on the score of bravery, but we can claim
quite as much."

"But we have whipped you in every battle. We whipped you at Manassas
and Ball's Bluff, and we whipped General Grant at Belmont."

"That is very true; but how was it at Shiloh?"

"At Shiloh we whipped you; we drove you to your gun-boats, which was
all we wanted to do."

"Ah, I beg your pardon; but what is your impression of Fort Donelson?"

"Fort Donelson!"--and my lady's cheek flushed with either pride or
indignation--"Fort Donelson was an unquestioned victory for the South.
We stopped your army--all we wanted to; and then General Forrest,
General Floyd, and all the troops we wished to bring off, came
away. We only left General Buckner and three thousand men for you to
capture."

"It seems, then, we labored under a delusion at the North. We thought
we had something to rejoice over when Fort Donelson fell. But, pray,
what do you consider the capture of Island Number Ten and the naval
battle here?"

"At Island Ten we defeated you" (how this was done she did not say),
"and we were victorious here. You wanted to capture all our boats; but
you only got four of them, and those were damaged."

"In your view of the case," I replied, "I admit the South to have been
always victorious. Without wishing to be considered disloyal to the
Nation, I can heartily wish you many similar victories."

In the tour which Dickens records, Mark Tapley did not visit the
Southern country, but the salient points of his character are
possessed by the sons of the cavaliers. "Jolly" under the greatest
misfortunes, and extracting comfort and happiness from all calamities,
your true Rebel could never know adversity. The fire which consumes
his dwelling is a personal boon, as he can readily explain. So is
a devastating flood, or a widespread pestilence. The events which
narrow-minded mudsills are apt to look upon as calamitous, are only
"blessings in disguise" to every supporter and friend of the late
"Confede