I take up my story at a point of time some weeks later, when the unnatural and over-strained excitement of alternated joy and grief, triumph and despair, had in some measure subsided, and the amazed and distracted people had in some degree recovered self-possession and calmness; when the victorious legions of the army had passed in grand review before the President and all the high official dignitaries of the Union, before all the resident representatives of foreign courts, and above all, before the multitude of grateful and admiring fellow countrymen, who had gathered in millions to do honor to their patriotism, courage and devotion, and who, as they looked upon those glorious veterans, thought that if every man of the rank and file was not a commissioned officer, _nearly_ every one of them certainly deserved to be so. Promotions were made for “gallant and meritorious conduct in the service”—that is, so far as there should be room for them. But if every private soldier of the Union could have been advanced according to his deserts, we should have had an army composed almost entirely of major generals. There were thousands upon thousands of men in the ranks, as brave, as true, as skillful, and as devoted, as many who commanded divisions and corps; and if these could not all be promoted it was only because, as I once heard a schoolboy captain demonstrate to his discontented company, “_All cannot be corporals_.” But if we cannot decorate every brave soldier with a pair of shoulder-straps, we can at least give every one of them our heartfelt honor and esteem. As for us, we never see the dear old faded blue uniform anywhere, but our hearts warm to the wearer, as we think of the marchings and fightings, by day and night, the fastings and vigils, the wounds and illnesses, the exposure to freezing cold and burning heat, and all the inconceivable sufferings incident to war which the soldier must have borne for our sakes. But this is a digression, and we must get back to our story. It was a few days from those of the grand review. The armies had been disbanded and sent home. The multitudes of visitors had left the city. And Washington, which had for weeks been suffering under a plethora of population, was relieved. The parsonage, which like every other private house in Washington and Georgetown had been filled with company, was now comparatively empty. The parlor circle consisted only of Erminie, Elfie, Brigadier General Rosenthal, Colonel Fielding and Captain Hay. Lieutenant Colonel Mim and Captain Ethel were frequent visitors. By this you will perceive, that all our friends of the army who had not been killed were promoted. They were not yet mustered out of the service, and they were all on duty in Washington.