There are instances, it is true, where disorganized and frantic masses, animated by patriotic enthusiasm, have gained the most brilliant victories. Here, however, extraordinary circumstances supplied the place of order, and produced an equilibrium between forces that otherwise would have been very unequal; but in almost every instance of this kind, the loss of the undisciplined army has been unnecessarily great, human life being substituted for skill and order. But victory, even with such a drawback, cannot often attend the banners of newly raised and disorderly forces. If the captain and crew of a steamship knew nothing of navigation, and had never been at sea, and the engineer was totally unacquainted with his profession, could we expect the ship to cross the Atlantic in safety, and reach her destined port? Would we trust our lives and the honor of our country to their care? Would we not say to them, "First make yourselves acquainted with the principles of your profession, the use of the compass, and the means of determining whether you direct your course upon a ledge of rocks or into a safe harbor?" War is not, as some seem to suppose, a mere game of chance. Its principles constitute one of the most intricate of modern sciences; and the general who understands the art of rightly applying its rules, and possesses the means of carrying out its precepts, may be morally certain of success. History furnishes abundant proofs of the impolicy of relying upon undisciplined forces in the open field. Almost every page of Napier's classic History of the Peninsular War contains striking examples of the useless waste of human life and property by the Spanish militia; while, with one quarter as many regulars, at a small fractional part of the actual expense, the French might have been expelled at the outset, or have been driven, at any time afterwards, from the Peninsula.