While the army was still in the vicinity of Fort Monroe, numbers of officers secured leave to ride over to Newport News and view the traces of the recent and celebrated naval fight, which was to relegate wooden battle-ships to the fireplace.  Aladdin was among those to go.  At this time he was in great spirits, for it had been brought home to him that he was one of the elect, one of those infinitely rare and godlike creatures whom mosquitos do not bite nor ticks molest.  His nights were as peaceful as the grave, and the poisonous drinking-waters glanced from his rubber constitution.  Besides, he had forsaken his regimental duties to enjoy a life of constant variety upon the staff of a general, and had begun to feel at home on horseback.  It was one of those radiant, smiling days, which later on were to become rarer than charity, and the woods were positively festive with sunshine.  And the temperature was precisely that which brings to a young man’s fancy thoughts of love.  So that it was in the nature of a shock to come suddenly upon the shore and behold for the first time the finality of war.  There was no visible glory about it.  What had happened to the Cumberland and the Congress was disappointingly like what would happen to two ships destroyed in shallow water.  The masts of the Cumberland, slightly off the vertical and still rigged, projected for half their length from the yellow surface of the river.  That was all.  Some distance to the left and half submerged was a blackened and charred mass that bore some resemblance to a ship that had once been proud and tall, and known by the name of Congress.  That was all.  Aladdin had hoped that war would be a little more like the pictures.

As he rode back, pondering, toward the encampment, however, he came upon something which was truly an earnest of what was to come.  There were so many buzzards perched in the trees of a certain wood that he turned in to see what they had.  He came upon it suddenly, just beyond a cheerful bush of holly, and the buzzards stepped reluctantly back until he had looked.  It was only a horse.  Some of the buzzards, heavy with food, raised their eyelids heavily and looked at Aladdin, and then lapsed back into filthy sleep.  Others, not yet satiated, looked upon him querulously, and suggested as much as looks can suggest that he go, and trouble them no more.  Others, the newly arrived and ravenous, swooped above the trees, so that dark circles were drawn over the fallen sunlight.  Now a buzzard opened and closed its wings, and now one looked from the horse to Aladdin, and back, fretfully, to the horse.  There seemed to be hundreds of them, dark and dirty, with raw heads and eyelids.  Aladdin sat solemn and motionless upon his horse, but he could feel the cold sweat of horror running down his sides from under his arms, and the bristling of his hair.  He wanted to make a great noise, to shout, to do anything, but he did not dare.  It would have