This argument, my boy, exposes thoroughly the base disloyalty and fiendish designs of the newspaper brigadiers who are constantly urging McClellan to advance--advance! Let them all be sent to Fort Lafayette, and the moral effect on this cursed rebellion will be such that it will utterly collapse in two hours and forty-three minutes. The serious New Haven chap, of whom I spoke to you some time ago, takes a "radical" view of our long halt, and gives his ideas in THE MIDNIGHT WATCH. Soldier, soldier, wan and gray, Standing there so very still, On the outpost looking South, What is there to-night to kill? Through the mist that rises thick From the noisome marsh around, I can see thee like a shade Cast from something underground. And I know that thou art old, For thy features, sharp, and thin, Cut their lines upon the shroud Damply folding thee within. Fit art thou to watch and guard O'er the brake and o'er the bog; By the glitter of thine eyes Thou canst pierce a thicker fog. Tell me, soldier, grim and old, If thy tongue is free to say, What thou seest looking South, In that still and staring way? Yonderward the fires may glow Of a score of rebel camps; But thou canst not see their lights, Through the chilling dews and damps. Silent still, and motionless? Get thee to the tents behind, Where the flag for which we fight Plays a foot-ball to the wind. Get thee to the bankments high, Where a thousand cannon sleep, While the call that bids them wake Bids a score of millions weep. Thou shalt find an army there, Working out the statesman's plots, While a poison banes the land, And a noble nation rots. Thou shalt find a soldier-host Tied and rooted to its place, Like a woman cowed and dumb, Staring Treason in the face. Dost thou hear me? Speak, or move! And if thou wouldst pass the line, Give the password of the night-- Halt! and give the countersign. God of Heaven! what is this Sounding through the frosty air, In a cadence stern and slow, From the figure looming there! "Sentry, thou hast spoken well"-- Through the mist the answer came-- "I am wrinkled, grim, and old, May'st thou live to be the same! "Thou art here to keep a watch Over prowlers coming nigh; I can show thee, looking South, What is hidden from thine eye. "Here, the loyal armies sleep; There, the foe awaits them all; Who can tell before the time Which shall triumph, which shall fall? "O, but war's a royal game, Here a move and there a pause; Little recks the dazzled world What may be the winner's cause. "In the roar of sweating guns, In the crash of sabres crossed, Wisdom dwindles to a fife, Justice in the smoke is lost.