Now the land warfare of 1812 would be so funny, if it weren’t tragic; so laughable, if it weren’t shameful, that our school histories just must omit much of it, if they’re going to show that we are the perfect people of the world. You could scarcely describe the affair in football language, as I did with the Revolution, because the candidates for that gridiron didn’t stay long enough to last much after the kick-off. It had better be classified as an open tournament of all games and events, under any rules which the particular coach wanted to make, and at any time he wanted to play. It probably could be described somewhat as a track-meet, if it were confined to running events. I tell you those men who played against or rather opposite Great Britain the second time, and who took no coaching for their particular stunts, could outsprint anything you’ve seen in shorts. The first event was staged at Detroit where our force of eighteen hundred had covered themselves up with fortifications. On the appearance of only twelve hundred of the enemy, the eighteen hundred gallantly surrendered without firing a shot or putting up any sort of resistance. This display of talent was soon followed by even a more disgraceful one at Queenstown. General Van Rensselaer got together nearly three thousand hastily recruited fellows at Lewiston to take the heights across the river. Two hundred and twenty-five picked men succeeded in crossing and stormed the place. This little courageous band withstood charge after charge of the enemy, hoping for reenforcements. But the large force on the American side refused to budge or even help their stricken comrades, who were finally killed or captured. After seeing their gallant fellows perish, they made their way to their homes quite quickly. A little later General Harrison got together from four states ten thousand men with no background or experience of warfare. After a short march and slight flurry with the Indians their speed in getting back to their homes and camp was far beyond the most sanguine expectations. You couldn’t exactly say they ran. No, they evaporated and their work was over. Then General Dearborn sent an expedition of fifteen hundred men against a small post on the River LaColle. The British garrison consisted of only two hundred men, seven and one-half times smaller force than ours. But by unskilled leadership the American columns were separated and had an exciting time firing into each other while the enemy escaped. After all these escapades, along came General Smythe, who openly confessed how wrong other leaders had been and how he was the one hope of the war. By bombastic proclamations he induced over five thousand men to come to him at Black Rock for an invasion of Canada. On the promised day for the crossing, less than half the command embarked in the morning and waited there for the order to push across. In the afternoon, Smythe sensing the weakness of his troops, ordered them to disembark, and