Canvas-Backs and Red-Heads.—McClellan is now indeed master of the situation.—William Howard Russell’s Diary.

October 31st.—No, no, Mr. Smith; it an’t of no use. At four a.m. we were invited, as usual, to rise, but Taylor and I reasoned from under our respective quilts, that it would be quite as good shooting if we got up at six, and I acted in accordance with that view. Breakfasted as the sun was shining above the tree-tops, and to my blind—found there was no shooting at all— got one shot only, and killed a splendid canvas-back— on returning to home, found nearly all the party on the move—140 ducks hanging round the house, the reward of our toils, and of these I received egregrious share. Drove back with Pennington, very sleepy, followed by Mr. Taylor and Lamy. I would have stayed longer if sport were better. Birds don’t fly when the wind is in certain points, but lie out in great “ricks,” as they are called, blackening the waters, drifting in the wind, or with wings covering their heads—poor defenceless things! The red-head waits alongside the canvas-back till he comes up from the depths with mouth or bill full of parsley and wild celery, when he makes at him and forces him to disgorge. At Baltimore at 1.30—dined—Lamy resolved to stay—bade good-bye to Swan and Morris. The man at first would not take my ducks and boots to register or check them—twenty-five cents did it. I arrived at Washington late, because of detention of train by enormous transport; labelled and sent out game to the houses till James’s fingers ached again. Nothing doing, except that General Scott has at last sent in resignation. McClellan is now indeed master of the situation. And so to bed, rather tired.