tion, the jealousy of a rival, the whim of a superior. But the merit
of having done one's whole duty to the men whose lives are in one's
keeping, and to the nation whose life is staked with theirs,--of having
held one's command in such a state, that, if at any given moment it was
not performing the most brilliant achievement, it might have been,--this
is the substantial triumph which every faithful officer has always
within reach.

Now will any one but a newspaper flatterer venture to say that this is
the habitual standard in our volunteer service? Take as a test the
manner in which official inspections are usually regarded by a
regimental commander. These occasions are to him what examinations by
the School Committee are to a public-school teacher. He may either
deprecate and dodge them, or he may manfully welcome them as the very
best means of improvement for all under his care. Which is the more
common view? What sight more pitiable than to behold an officer begging
off from inspection because he has just come in from picket, or is just
going out on picket, or has just removed camp, or was a day too late
with his last requisition for cartridges? No doubt it is a trying ordeal
to have some young regular-army lieutenant ride up to your tent at an
hour's notice, and leisurely devote a day to probing every weak spot in
your command,--to stand by while he smells at every camp-kettle, detects
every delinquent gun-sling, ferrets out old shoes from behind the
mess-bunks, spies out every tent-pole not labelled with the sergeant's
name, asks to see the cash-balance of each company-fund, and perplexes
your best captain on forming from two ranks into one by the left flank.
Yet it is just such unpleasant processes as these which are the
salvation of an army; these petty mortifications are the fulcrum by
which you can lift your whole regiment to a first-class rank, if you
have only the sense to use them. So long as no inspecting officer needs
twice to remind you of the same thing, you have no need to blush. But
though you be the bravest of the brave, though you know a thousand
things of which he is utterly ignorant, yet so long as he can tell you
one thing which you ought to know, he is master of the situation. He may
be the most conceited little popinjay who ever strutted in uniform; no
matter; it is more for your interest to learn than for his to teach. Let
our volunteer officers, as a body, once resolve to act on this
principle