the first volume of _The Spy_ was actually printed several months,
before the author felt a sufficient inducement to write a line of the
second. The efforts expended on a hopeless task are rarely worthy of him
who makes them, however low it may be necessary to rate the standard of
his general merit.

One other anecdote connected with the history of this book may give the
reader some idea of the hopes of an American author, in the first
quarter of the present century. As the second volume was slowly
printing, from manuscript that was barely dry when it went into the
compositor's hands, the publisher intimated that the work might grow to
a length that would consume the profits. To set his mind at rest, the
last chapter was actually written, printed, and paged, several weeks
before the chapters which precede it were even thought of. This
circumstance, while it cannot excuse, may serve to explain the manner in
which the actors are hurried off the scene.

A great change has come over the country since this book was originally
written. The nation is passing from the gristle into the bone, and the
common mind is beginning to keep even pace with the growth of the body
politic. The march from Vera Cruz to Mexico was made under the orders of
that gallant soldier who, a quarter of a century before, was mentioned
with honor, in the last chapter of this very book. Glorious as was that
march, and brilliant as were its results in a military point of view, a
stride was then made by the nation, in a moral sense, that has hastened
it by an age, in its progress toward real independence and high
political influence. The guns that filled the valley of the Aztecs with
their thunder, have been heard in echoes on the other side of the
Atlantic, producing equally hope or apprehension.