Men who possessed the military genius, which upon a broader field had earned them fame and fortune, lie in unhonoured graves; because on their field bravery and skill meant only increased chances of death. Men of highest education, family, and wealth, lie beside felons and outcasts. Some survived to pursue their adventurous career in other lands, many to die in the American Civil War. One of them, Frederick Townsend Ward, descendant of straitest Puritan ancestry, a native of Salem, Massachusetts, graduated from the filibuster's school to wander over to distant China, where, the Taiping rebellion occurring in the nick of time, he entered the Imperial service, in which he presently attained to the chief command. So well did the doughty filibuster practise the lessons learned in his old school, that he soon became one of the greatest men in the Celestial kingdom, and was loaded with wealth and honours (two million dollars, it is said, of the former, but the native executors produced no assets), and might have risen to any position in that most conservative kingdom, perhaps even to the very throne and office of heaven's vice-gerent, had not an unlucky ball cut short his career at the siege of Ning-Po, and sent him to enjoy the most remarkable honours ever paid to a Yankee living or dead. For the grateful Pagans have erected two temples in his honour, and have solemnly enrolled his name among those of their country's gods. Even to this day there is kept perennially blooming over his tomb a spotless lily, emblematic of I know not what, which is constantly tended and nursed by loving hands, and shall perchance be so tended centuries to come, when Taiping and Filibuster shall have grown dim and hoary traditions in the busy, forgetful world outside the Middle Kingdom. China remembers the services of Ward. With us _alter tulit honores_, and an Englishman wears the glory of having suppressed the Taiping rebellion. Of a different type was the young Californian, Joaquin Miller, who has lived to embalm in heroic verse the memory of his chief--albeit, Walker, simple and severe, masquerades in a garb which he would have little yearned for or admired. Thus the poet pictures his hero as "tall, courtly, grand as any king," with "A piercing eye, a princely air, A presence like a chevalier, Half angel and half Lucifer; Fair fingers, jewell'd manifold With great gems set in hoops of gold; Sombrero black, with plume of snow That swept his long silk locks below; A red serape with bars of gold, Heedless falling, fold on fold; A sash of silk, where flashing swung A sword as swift as serpent's tongue, In sheath of silver chased in gold; And Spanish spurs with bells of steel That dash'd and dangl'd at the heel." It is grand; it is magnificent; but--it is not our Filibuster, who was more impressive in his stern simplicity.