To one who never before had travelled farther than is Dobbs Ferry from
Philadelphia, my journey south to New Orleans was something in the way
of an expedition, and I found it rich in incident and adventure.
Everything was new and strange, but nothing was so strange as my own
freedom. After three years of discipline, of going to bed by drum-
call, of waking by drum-call, and obeying the orders of others, this
new independence added a supreme flavor to all my pleasures. I took my
journey very seriously, and I determined to make every little incident
contribute to my better knowledge of the world. I rated the chance
acquaintances of the smoking-car as aids to a clear understanding of
mankind, and when at Washington I saw above the house-tops the marble
dome of the Capitol I was thrilled to think that I was already so much
richer in experience.

To me the country through which we passed spoke with but one meaning.
I saw it as the chess-board of the War of the Rebellion. I imagined
the towns fortified and besieged, the hills topped with artillery, the
forests alive with troops in ambush, and in my mind, on account of
their strategic value to the enemy, I destroyed the bridges over which
we passed. The passengers were only too willing to instruct a stranger
in the historical values of their country. They pointed out to me
where certain regiments had camped, where homesteads had been burned,
and where real battles, not of my own imagining, but which had cost
the lives of many men, had been lost and won. I found that to these
chance acquaintances the events of which they spoke were as fresh
after twenty years as though they had occurred but yesterday, and they
accepted my curiosity as only a natural interest in a still vital
subject. I judged it advisable not to mention that General Hamilton
was my grandfather. Instead I told them that I was the son of an