friend than you, I should not feel like speaking so freely of such things, but you, who know how foolishly tender my friendships are, and how I loved “my boys,” will pardon me, and not think me strange or egotistical. But I must forget myself, and tell you what the messenger said. It was simply that they were all on board; that, when he left, the harbor was full, literally crammed with boats and vessels, covered with men, shouting from every deck. At every breeze that lifted the drooping flag aloft, a shout went up that deafened and drowned every other sound, save the roar of the cannon, following instantly, drowning them in return. The.... Well, just as I knew it would be when I commenced twenty days ago to write you, some one interrupted me, and then came the returning hours of tedious labor, and a thrice-told quantity has held me fast until now. I have been a great deal _more_ than busy for the past three weeks, owing to some new arrangements in the office, mostly, by which I lead the Record, and hurry up the others who lag. Our city has known very little change, since I commenced my first sheet, although everybody but the wise people have looked intently for something new, and desperately dreadful, some “forward movement” or backward advance, but nothing of the kind has happened, doubtless much to our credit and comfort. No private returns from the “expedition” yet, but the Commandant of the Post at Annapolis, who just left me a moment ago, says that the Baltic will leave there this P.M. to join them in their landing wherever it may be. Colonel Allen’s death was a most sad affair: his regiment was the first to embark at Annapolis, a splendid regiment 1200 strong. But a truce to wars, so here’s my white flag, only I suppose you “don’t see it,” do you? By this time you are reveling in the February number of the “Atlantic.” So am I. I have just laid down “A. C.” after a hurried perusal; not equal to “Love and Skates,” though; what a capital thing that is! But the “Yankee Idyll” caps all that has yet been done or said. I _cannot_ lay _that_ down, and keep it there; it _will_ come up again, the thoughts to my mind, and the pages to my hand. “Old Uncle S,--says he, I guess, God’s price is high, says he.”[6]