"Now I know that this is a dream," said I.
"Why?"
"The idea of the United States being at war with itself!" I laughed
again.
"Take this," said he, and he gave me another potion. He waited a few
minutes for the medicine to affect me. Then he said, "Can you remember
how many states compose the United States?"
"Thirty-three, I believe," said I.
"There were thirty-three, I suppose, in eighteen fifty-nine," said he;
"but now there are not so many. Eleven of the states--the most of the
Southern states--have seceded and have set up a government of their own.
We call ourselves the Confederate States of America. Our capital is
Richmond. The Northern states are at war with us, trying to force us
back into the Union, as they call it. War has been going on for more
than a year."
"What!"
"Yes," said he; "all these great events required more than eight
months."
"More than a year!" I exclaimed; "what year is this?"
"Here is my record," said he; "here is yesterday's record."
He opened it at a page opposite which was a blank page. The written page
was headed June 3,1862. Below the heading were written some eight or ten
names,--Private Such-a-one, of Company A or B, such a regiment;
Corporal Somebody of another regiment, and so on. Upon one line there
was nothing written except _B. Jones_.
Then the doctor brought me a newspaper, and showed me the date. The
paper was the Richmond _Examiner_; the date, Wednesday, June 4, 1862.
"This is to-day's paper," said the doctor.