I have said thus much, because I wish any one who may be interested on
the point to know clearly on what footing I stood at starting: for the
general public, of course, the subject cannot have the slightest
interest.
Of all compositions, I suppose, a personal narrative is the most
wearying to the writer, if not to the reader; egotistical talk may be
pleasant enough, but, commit it to paper, the fault carries its own
punishment. The recurrence of that everlasting first pronoun becomes a
real stumbling-block to one at last. Yet there is no evading it, unless
you cast your story into a curt, succinct diary; to carry this off
effectively, requires a succession of incidents, more varied and
important than befell me.
A failure--absolute and complete--however brought about, is a fair mark
for mockery, if not for censure. Perhaps, however, I may hope that some
of my readers, in charity, if not in justice, will believe that I have
honestly tried to avoid over-coloring details of personal adventure, and
that no word here is set down in willful insincerity or malice, though
all are written by one whose enmity to all purely republican
institutions will endure to his life's end.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I. A Foul Start
CHAPTER II. Congressia
CHAPTER III.
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