The route lay, after passing the village of Sharpsburg, through a narrow valley, lying cosily between the spurs of two ridges that appeared to terminate at the Ferry. On either hand the evidences of the occupation of the country by a large army were abundant. Fences torn down, ground trampled, and fields destitute of herbage. The road bordering the canal, along which is built the straggling village of Sandy Hook, was crowded with the long wagon trains of the different Corps. A soldier could as readily distinguish the Staff from the Regimental wagons, as the Staff themselves from Regimental officers. The slick, well fed appearance of the horses or mules of Staff teams, usually six in number, owing to abundance of forage and half loaded wagons, were in striking contrast with the four half fed, hide-bound beasts usually attached to the overloaded Regimental wagons. Order after order for the reduction of baggage, that would reduce field officers to a small valise apiece, while many line officers would be compelled to march without a change of clothing, did not appear to lessen the length of Staff trains. That the transportation was unnecessarily extensive, cannot be doubted. That the heaviest reduction could have been made with Head-quarter trains, is equally true.

"Grey coats one day and blue coats the next," said an old woman clad in homespun grey, who came out of a low frame house as the troops slowly made their way past the teams through the village of Sandy Hook.

"Right on this rock is where General Jackson rested hisself," continued the old woman.

"Were there many Rebs about?" inquired one of the men.

"Right smart of them, I reckon;" replied the old woman; "but Lord! what a lookin' set of critters. Elbows and knees out; many of them hadn't shoes, and half of them that had had their toes out. You boys are dandies to them. And tired too, and hungry. Gracious! the poor fellows, when their officers weren't about, would beg for anything almost to eat. Why, my daughter Sal saw them at the soap-fat barrel! They said they were nearly marched and starved to death. And their officers didn't look much better. Lord! it looks like a pic-nic party to see you blue coats, with your long strings of wagons, and all your other fixins. You take good care of your bellies, the way you haul the crackers and bacon. Old Jackson never waits for wagons. That's the way he gets around you so often."

"Look here, old woman," roared out one of the men, "you had better dry up."

"Yes, and he'll get around you again," continued the old woman in a louder key. "You think you're going to bag him, do you. You're some on baggin'; but he'll give you three days' start and beat you down the valley. They acted like gentlemen, too, didn't touch a thing without leave, and you fellows have robbed me of all I have."

"They were in 'My Maryland,' and wanted to get the people all straight," suggested one of the boys.

The old lady did not take the hint, but kept on berating the fresh men as they passed—taunting them by disparaging comparison with the Rebel troops. A neighbor, by informing them of the fact of her having two sons in the Rebel service, imparted the secret of her interest.

* * * * *

And there is the Ferry, so often pictured, or attempted to be, by pen and pencil. Either art has failed, and will fail, to do justice to that sublimely grand mountain scenery. Not quite three years ago, an iron old man, who perished with the heroism of a Spartan, or rather, to be just, the faith of a Christian; but little more than a year in advance of the dawn of the day of his hope, centred upon this spot the eyes of a continent. A crazy fanatic, was the cry, but—

"Thy scales, Mortality, are just To all that pass away."

Time will reveal that it was not the freak of a madman, but rather a step in the grand progress of universal emancipation, and that Old John had foundations for his purposed campaign, quite as substantial as those upon which better starred enterprises have succeeded.

"Lor, Massa, if Old John had only had these men," said a wench to one of Patterson's Captains, as he paused for a few moments while drilling his command at Charlestown, during that fruitless campaign, so formidable in preparation, and so much more disgraceful than that of Old John in its termination, for the latter, in his dying heroism, won the admiration of a world.

"Why, what could Old John have done with them?" replied the Captain.

"Golly, Massa," said the wench, with a knowing grin; "he would have walked right through Virginny, and he'd have had plenty of help too. I knows, many a nigger about here that didn't say nuthin', would have jined him."

"Why didn't they join him?"

"Lor, Massa, they didn't know it in time. Hadn't any chance. Massa wanted us to go see him hung; but only the youngsters went. We colored pussons neber forget Old John. No sah!"

The men wound their way as best they could beneath the precipitous and towering rocks of the Maryland Heights, through the teams that blocked up the road, and a short distance above the Railroad Bridge, filed to the left, and crossed upon the pontoons. As they passed the Engine House, the utmost endeavors of the officers could not prevent a bulge to the right, so great was the anxiety to see the scene of Old John's heroic but hopeless contest. Denounced by pro-slavery zealots as a murderer, by the community at large as a fanatic, who fifty years hence will deny him honorable place in the list of martyrs for the cause of eternal truth!

The town itself was almost a mass of ruins; both sides, at various stages of the war, having endeavored to effect its destruction. Another pontoon bridge was crossed, bridging the Shenandoah—sparkling on its rocky bed—the Dancing Water, as termed by the Aborigines, with their customary graceful appropriateness. To one fond of mountain scenery, and who is not? the winding road that follows the Shenandoah to its junction, then charmingly bends to the course of the Potomac, is intensely interesting. But why should an humble writer weary the reader's patience by expatiating upon scenery, the sight of which Jefferson declared well worth a visit across the Atlantic, at a day when such visits were tedious three month affairs, and uncertain at that? War now adds a bristling horror to the shaggy mountain tops, and from the hoarse throats of heavy cannon often "leap from rock to rock the beetling crags among" well executed counterfeits of "live thunder."

The Potomac is followed but a short distance, the road winding by an easy ascent up the mountain ridge, and descending as easily into a narrow and fruitful valley. In this valley, four miles from the Ferry, a halt was ordered, and the Division rested for the night and succeeding day, in a large and well sodded field.

"Gentlemen," said our Brigadier, in a sly, good-humored way, as he rode up to the field officers of the Regiment, "the field upon which you are encamped, and all the land, almost as far as you can see, on the left of yon fence, belong to a Rebel now holding the rank of Major in the Rebel service. All I need say, I suppose, gentlemen," and the General left to communicate the important information to the other Regiments of the Brigade. As a fine flock of sheep, some young cattle, a drove of porkers that from a rear view gave promise of prime Virginia hams, and sundry flocks of chickens, had been espied as the men marched into the field, the General's remarks were eminently practical and suggestive.

"Charlie, what's the state of the larder?" said the Major, with his usual thoughtfulness, addressing the cheerful mess cook.

"Some boiled pork and crackers. Poor show, sir!" Such fare, after a hard day's march, in sight of a living paradise of beef, mutton, pork, and poultry, would have been perfectly inexcusable; and forthwith, the Major, "the little Dutch Doctor," and a short, stoutly-built Lieutenant, all armed to the teeth, started off to reconnoitre, and ascertain in what position the Rebel property was posted. As they went they canvassed the respective merits of beef, mutton, pork and poultry, until a short grunt from a porker, as he crossed the Doctor's path, ended the discussion. The Major and Lieutenant cocked their pistols, but withheld firing, as they saw the Doctor prostrate, holding by both hands the hind leg of a patriarch of the flock.

"Oh, Heavens! we don't want that old boar!" cried out at once both the Major and Lieutenant.

"Goot meat, make strong, goot for health, very," said the Doctor, holding on with the grasp of a vice, while the boar fairly dragged him, face to the ground, "after the manner of all creeping things." The Doctor was in a fix. Help his companions would not give. He could not hold the boar by one hand alone. After being considerably bruised, he was compelled to release his hold, to his intense disgust, which he evinced as he raised himself up, puffing like a porpoise, by gesticulating furiously, and muttering a jargon in which the only thing intelligible was the oft-repeated word, "tam." A well-directed shot from the Major, shortly afterwards, brought down a royal "Virginia mutton," as the camp phrase is. Another from the Lieutenant grazed the rear of a fine young porker's ham; but considerable firing, a long chase, and many ludicrous falls occurred, before that pig was tightly gripped between the legs of the Lieutenant.

The expedition was so successful that the aid of some privates was called in to help carry to quarters the rich spoils of the chase. As for the Doctor,—after the refusal of assistance in his struggle, he walked homeward in stately but offended dignity, and shocked the Chaplain, as he was occasionally in the habit of doing, by still muttering "tam."

A person enjoying the comforts of home, testy as to the broiling of a mutton-chop perhaps, for real, unalloyed enjoyment of appetite should form one of a camp circle, toasting, at a blazing fire, as the shades of evening gather round, steaks freshly cut with a camp-knife from flesh that quivered with remaining life but a moment before, assisting its digestion by fried hardees, and washing both down by coffee innocent of cream. That is a feast, as every old campaigner will testify; but to be properly appreciated a good appetite is all essential. To attain that, should other resources fail, the writer can confidently recommend a march, say of about fifteen miles, over rough or dusty roads.

And then, as the appetites of the men are sated by the hardy provender of Uncle Sam, varied, as in this instance, by Virginia venison, and they respectively fall back and take to

"Sublime Tobacco! glorious in a pipe;"

what more pleasant than the discussion of the doings of the day, or of the times, the recital of oft-repeated and ever-gaining yarns, or the heart-stirring strains of national ballads, while each countenance is lit with the ever-varying glow of the fire.

Upon this evening not only Head-quarters but the Regiment was exultant in the feast upon the fat of a rebellious land. To add to their comfort several large stacks of hay and straw had been deprived of their fair proportions, and preparations had been made for the enjoyment of rest upon beds that kings would envy, could they but have the sleepers' sound repose.

The morrow had been set apart as a day of rest—a fact known to the Regiment, and their fireside enjoyment was accordingly prolonged.

The camp, more than any other position in life, develops the greatest inconsistencies in poor human nature. The grumbler of the day's march is very frequently the joker of the bivouac. The worse, at the expense of man's better qualities, are rapidly strengthened, and the least particle of selfishness, however concealed by a generous nature at the period of enlistment, fearfully increases its power with every day of service. The writer remembers well a small, slightly-built, bow-legged fellow, who would murmur without ceasing upon the route, continually torment his officers for privilege to fall out of ranks to adjust his knapsack, fasten a belt, or some such like purpose, who, on the halt, would amuse his comrades for hours in performing gymnastic feats upon out-spread blankets. Another, who at home flourished deservedly under the sobriquet of "Clever Billy," became, in a few brief months of service, the most surly, snappish, and selfish of his mess.

Pipe in mouth, their troubles are puffed away in the gracefully ascending smoke. Many a non-user of the weed envies in moody silence the perfect satisfaction resting upon the features of his comrade thus engaged. Non-users are becoming rare birds in the army. So universal is the habit, that the pipe appears to belong to the equipment, and the tobacco-pouch, suspended from a button-hole of the blouse, is so generally worn that one would suppose it to have been prescribed by the President as part of the uniform.

The crowd gathered about the Head-quarters had largely increased, and while luxuriating upon the straw, time passed merrily. The Colonel, who never let an opportunity to improve the discipline of his command pass unimproved, seized the occasion of the presence of a large number of officers to impress upon them the necessity of greater control of the men upon the march. The easy, open, but orderly route-step of the Regulars was alluded to—their occupying the road alone, and not spread out and straggling like a drove of cattle. A stranger seeing our Volunteers upon the march would not give them credit for the soldierly qualities they really possess. Curiosity, so rampant in the Yankee, tempts him continually to wander from the ranks to one or other side of the road.

"Well, Colonel," said a tall Lieutenant, "the Regulars look prim and march well, but they have done little fighting, as yet, in this Army of the Potomac."

"You forget the Peninsula," replied the Colonel.

"Oh, there they were caught unexpectedly, and forced into it. In this Corps they are always in reserve; and that's what their officers like,—everything in reserve but pay and promotion. It is rather doubtful whether they will fight."

"Ov coorse they'll fight," said the little Irish Corporal, half rising from his straw on the outskirts of the crowd; "Ov coorse they will. They're nearly all my own countrymen. I know slathers of them; and did you iver in your born days know an Irishman that wouldn't fight, anywhere, any time, and for anything, if he had anybody to fight?"

"And a quart of whiskey in him," interrupts the Adjutant. "As Burns says of the Scotch—

"'Wi' Tippeny they fear nae evil, Wi' Usquebagh they'll face the Devil.'"

"Now, don't be comparing an Irishman, if you plaze, Adjutant, to a scratch-back Scotchman. The raal Irishman has fire enough in his bluid; but there's no denying a glass of potheen is the stuff to regulate it. Talk about Rigulars or Volunteers fighting;—it's the officers must do their duty, and there's no fear thin of the men."

"What did you enlist for, anyway, Terence?" broke in a Second Lieutenant.

"It's aisy seeing that it wasn't for a Lieutenant's pay," retorted Terence, to the amusement of the crowd, and then, as earnestness gathered upon his countenance, he continued: "I enlisted for revinge, and there's little prospect of my seeing a chance for it."

"For revenge?" said several.

"Yis, for revinge. I had worked early and late at a liv'ry stable, like a nagur, to pay the passage money of my only brother to this country. Faith, he was a broth of a boy, the pride of all the McCarthy's,"—tears welled in his eyes as he continued,—"just three years younger than mysilf, a light, ruddy, nately put togither lad as iver left the bogs; and talk about fightin'!—the divil was niver in him but in a fight, and thin you'd think he was all divil. That was Patrick's sport, and fight he would, ivery chance, from the time whin he was a bit of a lad, ten years ould, and bunged the ould schoolteacher's eyes in the parish school-house. Will, he got a good berth in a saloon in the Bowery, where they used Patrick in claning out the customers whin they got noisy, and he'd do it nately too, to the satisfaction of his employer. He did well till a recruiting Sergeant—bad luck to him—that knew the McCarthys in the ould country, found him out, and they drank and talked about ould times, and the Sergeant tould him that the army was the place for Irishmen,—that there would be lots of fightin'. The chance of a fight took Patrick, and nixt day he left the city in a blouse, as Fourth Corporal in an Irish Rigiment, and a prouder looking chappie, as his own Captain tould me, niver marched down Broadway. And thin to think he was murthered by my own Gineral."

"Who? How was that?" interrupted half a dozen at once.

"Gineral Patterson, you see, to be shure."

"Why, Terence," broke in the Lieutenant, "you shouldn't be so hard upon General Patterson; he's of an Irish family."

"The Gineral an Irishman! Niver! Of an Irish family! must have been hundreds of years back, and the bluid spoiled long before it got into his veins, by bad whiskey or something worse. It takes the raal potheen, that smacks of the smoke of the still, to keep up the bluid of an Irishman. Rot-gut would ruin St. Patrick himself if he were alive and could be got to taste it. Gineral Patterson an Irishman! no, sir; or there would have been bluidy noses at Bunker's Hill or Winchester, and that would have saved some at Bull Run."

"On with your story, Terence," said the crowd.

"Beggin' your pardon, there's no story about it,—the blissid truth, ivery word of it.

"Will, you see, while our ould Colonel, under the Gineral's orders, had me guarding a pratie patch—"

"Set an Irishman to guard a potato patch!" laughed the Second Lieutenant.

"It wasn't much use," said Terence, smiling, "for they disappeared the first night, and the slim college student that was Sergeant of that relief was put under guard for telling the officer of the guard, next morning, that there had been a heavy dew that night, and it evaporated so fast that it took the praties along. We lived on praties next day, but the poor Sergeant had to foot the bill.

"Well, as I was going on to say, while I was helping guard a pratie patch, an ice-house, corn-crib, smoke-house, and other such things that were near our camp ground, and that belonged to a Rebel Colonel under Johnston;—Johnston himself was staling away with all his army to help fight the battle of Bull Run. Patrick—pace to his sowl—was in that battle and fought like a tiger, barrin' that he would have done better, as his Captain tould me, if he hadn't forgot the balls in his cartridge-box, and took to his musket like a shelaleh all day long. Patrick's regiment belonged to a Brigade that was ordered to keep Johnston in check, and there stood Patrick in line, like a true lad as he was, clubbing back the Butternuts, striking them right and left—maybe the fellows belonged to this same Rebel Colonel's regiment—until a round shot struck him full in the breast, knocking the heart out of as true an Irishman as iver lived, and killing dead the flower of the McCarthys.

"I didn't know it till we got to Baltimore, and thin whin I riflicted how the poor boy marched up to fight the bluidy Rebels, and how they killed him, my own brother, while I—I, who would have given my right hand to save him,—yis," said Terence, rising, and tears streaming from his eyes, "would have waded through fire and bluid to help the darlin', the pride of his mother,—I was guarding a Rebel Colonel's property, whin the whole of us, if we had fought Johnston, as we ought to have done, might have kept him back and saved our army, and that would have saved me my brother. And thin whin I remimbered how thick the Gineral was with the Rebel gentry, and how fine ladies with the divil in their eyes bowed to him in Charlestown, and spit at and cocked up their noses at us soldiers, while their husbands were off, maybe, murthering my brother; and how the Gineral, proud as a paycock on his prancing chestnut sorrel, tould us in the meadow that Johnston was too strong for us to attack, but that if he would come out from behind his big guns the Gineral would lay his body on the sod before he'd lave it, whin he intended his body to lie on a soft bed the rest of his life, and how he said and did all this while our men, and my brother among them, were being murthered by this same Johnston that he was sent to hould back,—I couldn't keep down my Irish bluid. I cursed him and all his tribe by all the Saints from St. Peter to St. Patrick, until good ould Father Mahan tould me, whin I confessed, that he was afraid I would swear my own sowl away, and keep Patrick in Purgatory; and the Father tould me that I should lave off cursin' Patterson, for the Americans thimselves would attend to that, and take to fighting the Rebels for revinge; and he said by way of incouragement that at the same time I'd be sarving God and my adopted country. And here I am, under another safe Commander. Four months and no fight,—nearly up to the ould First, that sarved three months without sight of a Rebel, barrin' he was a prisoner, or in citizen dress, like some we have left behind us."

"Boys, Terence tells the truth about Patterson's movements," said the tall Lieutenant. "The day before we left we were ordered to be ready to move in the morning, with three days' cooked rations. We were told that our Regiment was assigned a place in the advance, and it was semi-officially rumored that a flank attack would be made upon Winchester. At this day the whole affair appears ridiculous, as Johnston had at that very time left Winchester, leaving only a trifling show of force, and he never, at his best, had a force equal to Patterson's. Half of his troops were the raw country militia. But we under-officers were none the wiser. It was rumored that Bill McMullen's Rangers had found charts that informed the General of the extent and strength of the Rebel works and muster-rolls, that showed his force to be over 50,000. That those works had no existence to the extent alleged, and that the muster-rolls were false, are now well known. But that night it was all dead earnest with us. Rations were cooked and the most thorough preparations made for the expected work of the morrow. Sunrise saw the old First in line, ready for the move. Eight o'clock came; no move, Nine—Ten, and yet no move. Arms had been stacked, and the men lounged lazily about the stacks. Eagle eyes scanned the surrounding country to ascertain what other Brigades were doing. At length troops were seen in motion, but the head of the column was turned towards the Ferry. 'What does this mean?' was the inquiry that hastily ran from man to man; and still they marched towards the Ferry. By and by an aide-de-camp directed our Brigade to fall into the column, and we then discovered that the whole army was in line of march for the Ferry, with a formidable rear-guard to protect it from an enemy then triumphing at Bull Run.

"Well, Patterson's inertness, to speak of it tenderly, cost the country much blood, millions of money, and a record of disgrace; but it gave a Regiment of Massachusetts Yankees opportunity to whittle up for their home cabinets of curiosities a large pile of walnut timber which had formed John Brown's scaffold, and to make extensive inroads in prying with their bayonets from the walls of the jail in which he had been confined pieces of stone and mortar. Guards were put upon the Court House in which old John heard his doom with the dignity of a Cato, at an early date, or it would have been hewn to pieces. A fine crop of corn in full leaf was growing upon the field of execution, and for a space of ten feet from the road-side the leaves had been culled for careful preservation in knapsacks. The boys had the spirit. Their Commander lacked capacity or will to give it effect. A beggarly excuse was set up after the campaign was over,—that the time of service of many of the Regiments was about expiring, and that the men would not reenlist,—not only beggarly, but false. The great mass volunteered to remain as it was, with no prospect of service ahead. All would have stayed had the General shown any disposition for active work, or made them promise of a fight."

"Golly," said a tall, raw-boned Darkie, showing his ivories to a crowd of like color about him, as the fine band of the Fencibles played in front of the General's Head-quarters. "Dese Union boys beat de Mississippi fellurs all hollur playing Dixie."

Hardly a face was to be seen upon the streets, but those of these friendly blacks. They thronged about the camps, to be repulsed by stringent orders at all quarters. Property they were, reasoned the commander, and property must be respected. And it was; even pump handles were tied down and placed under guard. Oh! that a Ben Butler had then been in command, to have pronounced this living property contraband of war, and by that sharp dodge of a pro-slavery Democrat, to have given Uncle Sam the services of this property. Depend upon it, that would have ended campaigning in the valley of the Shenandoah, that store-house of Rebel supplies, as it has turned out to be; supplies too, gathered and kept up by the negroes that Patterson so carefully excluded from his lines.

"And would have saved us this march," says the Colonel, "a goose chase at any rate."

"Yes, and had the policy of using the negro been general at the commencement of this Rebellion, troops would not be in the field at this day," responded the Lieutenant.

"Why do they not now, come boldly out and acknowledge that slavery is a curse to any nation?" said the Preacher Lieutenant. "It caused the Rebellion, and its downfall would be the Rebellion's certain and speedy death. Thousands of years ago, the Almighty cursed with plagues a proud people for refusing to break the bonds of the slave. The day of miracles is past. But war, desolating war, is the scourge with which He punishes our country. The curse of blood is upon the land; by blood must it be expiated. We in the North have been guilty, in common with the whole country, in tolerating, aiding, and abetting the evil. We must have our proportion of punishment. Why cannot the whole country meet the issue boldly as one man, and atone for past offence by unanimity in the abolition of the evil?"

"On the nigger again," said his Junior Lieutenant, assuming, as he spoke, an oratorical attitude. "Why do you not go on and talk about them working out their own salvation, with muskets on their shoulders and bayonets by their sides, and with fear and trembling too, I have no doubt it would be. Carry out your Scripture parallels. Tell how the walls of Jericho fell by horns taken from the woolly heads of rams; but now that miracles are no more, how the walls of this Jericho of Rebeldom are destined to fall before the well-directed butting of the woolly heads themselves. You don't ride your hobby with a stiff rein to-night, Lieutenant."

The taunting air and strained comparison of the Lieutenant enlivened the crowd, but did not in the least affect the Senior, who calmly replied:

"If our Government does not arm the negro on the basis of freedom, the Rebels in their desperation will, and although we have the negro sympathy, we may lose it through delay and inattention, and in that event, prepare for years of conflict. The negroes, at the outset of this Rebellion, were ripe for the contest. Armies of thousands of them might have been in the field to-day. Now the President's Proclamation finds them removed within interior Rebel lines, and to furnish them arms, will first cost severe contests with the Rebels themselves."

The toil of the day and the drowsiness caused by huge meals, gradually dispersed the crowd; but the discussion was continued in quarters by the various messes, until their actual time of retiring.

* * * * *

"Inspection! inspection!" said the Adjutant, on the succeeding afternoon, to the Lieutenant-Colonel for the time being in command of the Regiment, handing him, at the same time, an order for immediate inspection. "Six inspections in two weeks before marching," continued the Adjutant, "and another after a day's march. I wonder whether this Grand Army of the Potomac wouldn't halt when about going into battle, to see whether the men had their shoe-strings tied?"

The Adjutant had barely ceased, when the Inspecting officer, the ranking Colonel of the Brigade, detailed specially for the duty, made his appearance. He was a stout, full-faced man of fifty or upwards, with an odd mixture in his manner of piety and pretension. Report had it that his previous life had been one of change,—stock-jobber, note-shaver, temperance lecturer, and exhorter—

"All things by turns, and nothing long."

The latter quality remained with him, and it was a rare chance that he could pass a crowd of his men without bringing it into play. His "talks," as the boys called them, were more admired than his tactics, and from their tone of friendly familiarity, he was called by the fatherly title of "Pap" by his Regiment, and known by that designation throughout the Brigade.

The Regiment was rapidly formed for inspection, and after passing through the ranks of the first Company, the Colonel pompously presented himself before its centre, and with sober tones and solemn look, delivered himself as follows:

"Boys, have your hearts right," the Colonel clapping, at the same time, his right hand over his diaphragm. "If your hearts are right your muskets will be bright." The men stared, the movement not being laid down in the Regulations, and not exactly understanding the connexion between the heart and a clean musket; but the Colonel continued, "the heart is like the mainspring of a watch, if it beats right, the whole man and all about him will be right. There is no danger of our failing in this war, boys. We have a good cause to put our hearts in. The Rebels have a bad cause, and their hearts cannot be right in it. Good hearts make brave men, brave men win the battles. That's the reason, boys, why we'll succeed."

"Can't see it!" sang out some irreverent fellow in the rear rank.

The Colonel didn't take the hint; but catching at the remark continued, "You do not need to see it, boys, you can feel whether your heart is right." This provoked a smile on the faces of the more intelligent of the officers and men, which the Colonel noticed. "No laughing matter, boys," he said emphatically, at the same time earnestly gesticulating, "your lives, your country, and your honor depend upon right hearts." And thus the old Colonel exhorted each Company previous to its dismissal, amusing some and mystifying others. The heart was his theme, and time or place, a court-martial or a review, did not prevent the introduction of his platitudes.

Said the Major, after inspection, "The Colonel, in the prominence he gives the heart in its control of military affairs, rather reverses a sentiment I once heard advanced by a little Scotch tailor, who had just been elected a militia colonel."

"Let's have it, Major," said the Adjutant.

"The little Scotchman," continued the Major, "had been a notorious drunkard and profane swearer. Through the efforts of a travelling Evangelist, he became converted and joined a prominent denomination. His conversion was a remarkable instance, and gave him rapid promotion and a prominent position in the church. While at his height, through some scheme of the devil, I suppose, he was elected colonel of militia. The elevation overcame him. Treat he must and treat he did, and to satisfy the admiring crowd in front of the bar drank himself, until reason left, preceded by piety, and his old vice of profanity returned, with seven-fold virulence. He was discovered by a brother of the church, steadying himself by the railing of the bar, and rehearsing, amid volleys of oaths, the fragments that remained in his memory of an old Fourth of July speech. 'Brother,' said his fellow church-member, as he gently nudged his arm. 'Brother!' in a louder key, and with a more vigorous nudge, 'have you forgotten your sacred obligations to the church, your position as a—'

"'The church!' echoed the tailor, all the blood of the MacGregor rising in his boots, with an oath that shocked the brother out of all hope—'What's the church to military matters?'"



CHAPTER XI.

Snicker's Gap—Private Harry on the "Anaconda"—Not inclined to turn Boot-Black—"Oh! why did you go for a Soldier?"—The ex-News-Boy—Pigeon-hole Generalship on the March—The Valley of the Shenandoah—A Flesh Carnival—The Dutch Doctor on a Horse-dicker—An Old Rebel, and how he parted with his Apple-Brandy—Toasting the "Union"—Spruce Retreats.

The movement down the Valley was one of those at that time popular "bagging" movements, peculiar to the Grand Army of the Potomac, and in their style of execution, or to speak correctly, intended execution—for the absence of that quality has rendered them ridiculous—original with its Commander. Semi-official reports, industriously circulated from the gold-striped Staff to the blue-striped Field Officer, and by the latter whispered in confidence in the anxious ears of officers of the line, and again transferred in increasing volume to the subs, and by them in knowing confidence to curious privates, had it that the principal rebel force would be hemmed in, in the Valley of the Shenandoah, by our obtaining command of the Gaps, and then we would be nearest their Capital in a direct line—we would compel them to fight us, where, when, and how we pleased, or else beat them in a race to Richmond, and then——. The reader must imagine happy results that could not consistently be expected, while to gain the same destination over equidistant and equally good roads, Strategy moved by comparatively slow marches and easy halts, while Desperation strained every nerve, with rattling batteries and almost running ranks.

"But, Lieutenant, if that's so," alluding to the purpose of their march, "why are we halting here?"

"Our troops block up the roads, I suppose."

"We could march in the fields," rejoined the anxious private, "by the road-side; they are open and firm."

"We'll see, Harry, in a day or two, what it all amounts to. May be the 'Anaconda' that is to smash out the rebellion, is making another turn, or 'taking in a reef,' as the Colonel says."

"Well," rejoined the Private, "I have endeavored to book myself up, as far as my advantages would allow, in our army movements; and the nearest approach to anything like an anaconda, that I can see or hear of, is that infernal Red-tape worm that is strangling the soul out of the army. What inexcusable nonsense to attempt to apply to an immense army in time of war, such as we have now in the field, the needless, petty pigeon-hole details that regulated ten thousand men on a peace establishment. And to carry them out, look how many valuable officers, or officers who ought to be valuable, from the expense Uncle Sam has been at to give them educational advantages, are doing clerkly duty—that civilians, our business men, our accountants, could as well, if not better, attend to—in the offices of the Departments at Washington, in the Commissary and Quarter-Master's Departments,—handling quills and cheese-knives instead of swords, and never giving 'the villainous smell of saltpetre' the slightest chance 'to come betwixt the wind and their nobility.'"

Harry, at the time of his volunteering was an associate editor of a well established and ably conducted country newspaper. He had thrown himself with successful energy into the formation of the regiment to which he belonged. A prominent position was proffered him, but he sturdily refused any place but the ranks, alleging that he had never drilled a day in his life, and particularly insisting that those who had seen service and were somewhat skilled in the tactics, although many of them were far his inferiors in intelligence, should occupy the offices. From his gentlemanly deportment and ability he was on familiar terms with the officers, and popular among the men. Withal, he was a finely formed, soldierly-looking man. In the early part of his service he was reserved in his comments upon the conduct of the war, and considered, as he was in fact, conservative,—setting the best possible example of taciturnity, subordinate to the wisdom of his superiors.

"Harry, you have been detailed as a clerk about Brigade Head Quarters," said the Orderly Sergeant of his company, one morning, after he had been in service about two months.

Harry did not like the separation from his Company in the least, but notwithstanding, quietly reported for duty. Several days of desk drudgery, most laborious to one fresh from out-door exercise, had passed, when one morning about eight o'clock, a conceited coxcomb of an aid, in slippers, entered the office-tent, and holding a pair of muddy boots up, with an air of matter-of-course authority—ordered Harry to blacken them, telling him at the same time, in a milder and lower tone, that black Jim the cook had the brush and blackening.

"What, sir?" said Harry, rising like a rocket, his Saxon blood mounting to the very roots of his red hair.

"I order you to black those boots, sir," was the repeated and more insolent command.

"And I'll see you d——d first," retorted Harry, doubling his fist.

The aid not liking the furious flush upon Harry's face, with wise discretion backed out, muttering after he was fairly outside of the tent, something about a report to the Brigadier. Report he did, and very shortly after there was a vacancy in his position upon the Staff of that Officer. Harry, at his own request, was in the course of a week relieved from duty, and restored to his Company. Ever after he had a tongue.

The reply of the Lieutenant to Harry's remarks has all this time been in abeyance, however.

"Harry," said that officer, "we must follow the stars without murmuring or muttering against the judgment of superiors,—but one can't help surmising, and," the Lieutenant had half mechanically added when the Sergeant-Major saluted him.

"Where is the Captain, Lieutenant?"

"Not about, at present."

"Well," continued the Sergeant, "reveille at four, and in line at five in the morning."

Those beds of thickly littered straw were hard to leave in the chill mist of the morning. The warning notes of the reveille trilling in sweetest melody from the fife of the accomplished fife-major, accompanied by the slumber-ending rattle of the drum, admitted of no alternative. Many a brave boy as he stood in line that morning, ready for the march, the first sparkle of sunrise glistening upon his bayonet, wondered whether father or mother, sister or brother, yet in their slumbers, doubtless, in the dear old homestead, knew that the army was on the move, and that the setting sun might gild his breast-plate as in his last sleep he faced the sky.

"Oh! why did you go for a soldier?" sang our little news-boy, tauntingly, as he capered behind a big burly Dutchman in the rear rank, who had encountered all manner of misfortune that morning,—missing his coffee—and what is a man worth on a day's march without coffee—because it was too hot to drink, when the bugle sounded the call to fall in, his meat raw, not even the smell of fire about it, and his crackers half roasted; his clothes, too, half on, belts twisted, knapsack badly made up. As he grumbled over his mishaps, in his peculiar vernacular, laughter commenced with the men, and ended in a roar at the song of the news-boy.

A crowd gathers food for mirth from the most trivial matters. Incidents that would not provoke a smile individually, convulse them collectively. Men under restraint in ranks are particularly infectious from the influence of the passions. With lightning-like rapidity, to misapply a familiar line—

"They pass from grave to gay, from lively to severe."

Snicker's Gap, which drew its euphoneous name from a First Virginia family that flourished in the neighborhood, was one of the coveted points. In the afternoon our advance occupied it, and the neighboring village of Snickersville; fortunately first perhaps, in force, or what is most probable, considering results, amused by a show of resistance to cover the main Rebel movement then rapidly progressing further down the valley. From whatever cause, firing—musketry and artillery—was heard at intervals all the latter part of the afternoon; and as the troops neared the Gap, they were told that the Rebels had been driven from it across the river, and that it was now in our possession. Night was rapidly setting in as the division formed line of battle on the borders of the village. A halt but for a few moments. Their position was shortly changed to the mountain slope below the village. Down the valley sudden flashes of light and puffs of smoke that gracefully volumed upwards, followed by the sullen roar of artillery, revealed a contest between the advancing and retreating forces. That fire-lit scene must be a life picture to the fortunate beholders. Directly in front and on the left, thousands of camp fires burning in the rear of stacks made from line-of-battle, blazed in parallel rows, regular as the gas-lights of the avenues of a great city, and illumining by strange contrasts of light and shade the animated forms that encircled them. Far down to the right, the vertical flashes from the cannon vents vivid as lightning itself, instantly followed by horizontal lurid flames, belched forth from their dread mouths, lighting for the instant wood and field, formed the grandest of pyrotechnic displays. Rare spectacle—in one magnificent panorama, gleaming through the dark mantle of night, were the steady lights of peaceful camps, and the fitful flashing of the hostile cannon.

"Fall in, fall in!" cried the officers, at the bugle call, and in a few moments the Brigade was in motion. Some in the ranks, with difficulty, at the same time managing their muskets and pails of coffee that had not had time to cool; others munching, as they marched, their half-fried crackers, and cooling with hasty breath smoking pieces of meat, while friendly comrades did double duty in carrying their pieces. The soldier never calculates upon time; the present is his own when off duty, and he is not slow to use it; the next moment may see him started upon a long march, or detailed for fatigue duty, and with a philosophy apt in his position, he lives while he can.

The road through Snickersville, and up the romantic gorge or gap between the mountains, was a good pike, and in the best marching condition. At the crest the Brigade undoubled its files, and entered in double ranks a narrow, tortuous, rocky road, ascending the mountain to the left, leading through woods and over fields so covered with fragments of rock, that a country boy in the ranks, following up a habit, however, not by any means confined to the country, of giving the embodiment of evil the credit of all unpleasant surroundings, remarked that "the Devil's apron-strings must have broke loose here." That night march was a weary addition to the toil of the day. A short cut to the summit, which existed, but a mile in length, and which the Commander of the Force to which the Brigade formed part, could readily have ascertained upon inquiry, would have saved a great amount of grumbling, many hard oaths, for Uncle Toby's army that "swore so terribly in Flanders," could not outdo in that respect our Grand Army of the Potomac,—and no trifling amount of shoe-leather for Uncle Sam. The night was terribly cold, and the wind in gusts swept over the mountain-top with violence sufficient to put the toil-worn man, unsteady under his knapsack, through the facings in short order. Amid stunted pines and sturdy undergrowth, the Regiments in line formed stacks, and the men, debarred fire from the exposed situation, provided what shelter they could, and endeavored to compose themselves for the night. Vain endeavor. So closely was that summit shaved by the pitiless blasts, that a blanket could only be kept over the body by rolling in it, and lying face downwards, holding the ends by the hands, with the forehead resting on the knapsack for a pillow. Some in that way, by occasionally drumming their toes against the rocks managed to pass the night; many others sought warmth or amusement in groups, and others gazed silently on the camp-fires of the enemy, an irregular reflex of those seen on the side they had left—here glimmering faintly at a picket station, and there at a larger encampment, glowing first in a circle of blaze, then of illumined smoke, that in its upward course gradually darkened into the blackness of night. To men of contemplative habits, and many such there were, though clad in blouses, the scene was strongly suggestive. Our states emblemed in the lights of the valleys and the mountain ridge as the much talked of "impassable barrier." But faith in the success of a cause Heaven founded, saw gaps that we could control in that mountain ridge which would ultimately prove avenues of success.

"Captain, where did you make the raise?" inquired a young Lieutenant, on the following day,—one of a group enjoying a blazing fire, for the ban had been removed at early dawn—of a ruddy-faced, sturdy-looking officer, who bore on his shoulder a tempting hind quarter of beef.

"There is a little history connected with this beef," as he lowered his load. "Lieutenant," replied the Captain, interlarding his further statement with oaths, to which justice cannot and ought not to be done in print, and which were excelled in finish only by some choice ones of the Division General. "I went out at sunrise, thinking that by strolling among the rocks I might stir up a rabbit. I saw several, but got a fair shot at one only, and killed it. While going into a fence corner, in which were some thorn bushes, that I thought I could stir another cotton tail from, I saw a young bullock making for me, with lowered horns and short jumps. I couldn't get through the thorn bushes, and the fact is, being an old butcher I didn't care much about it, so I faced about, looked the bullock full in the eyes, and the bullock eyed me, giving at the same time an occasional toss of his short horns. Now I was awful hungry, never was more hollow in my life—the hardees that I swallowed dry in the morning fairly rattled inside of me. By-and-by I smelt the steaks, and a minute more I felt sure that he was a Rebel beast. Our young cattle up North don't corner people in that way. What's the use, thought I, and out came my Colt, and I planted a ball square between his eyes. As I returned the pistol he was on his side kicking and quivering. While looking at him, and rather coming to the conclusion that I had bought an elephant after all, as I had not even a penknife to skin it with, I spied that sucker-mouthed Aid of Old Pigeon-hole coming from another corner of the field, cantering at full jump. I left, walking towards Camp.

"'Captain, where was that picket-firing?'

"I pointed towards the wood, and told him that I thought it was along the picket-line."

"'It must have been, I suppose,' said the Aid, in a drawling manner. 'The General was sure it was a rifle. The rest of us thought it a pistol shot,' he said, as he rode off.

"When he got into the wood I returned to the bullock, cursing Old Pigey's ears for want of experience in shots. They made me come mighty close to being arrested for marauding.

"'Oh! whar did you git the jump-high?' said a darkie, who came up suddenly, pointing to the rabbit which I had put on the fence, with mouth open and a big show of the whites of his eyes. When he saw the carcass he fairly jumped.

"'Massa has had me shinning it round de rocks all morning. When I'm on de one side de jump-high is on de oder; and if I go back widout one he'll cuss me for a d——d stumbling woolly-head. Dat's his name for me any way.'

"I struck a bargain with the boy; he loaned me his jack-knife, and held the legs, and I had the skin off as soon as a two-inch blade (hacked at that) would allow, and I gave him the jump-high, and told him if he'd watch the beef till I carried this quarter home, I'd give him a fore quarter. I knew his Master was as bad off as myself, and would ask no questions, and then I sneaked up in rear of the General's quarters."

"That's what I'd call Profane History," said the Lieutenant, as the Captain resumed his load.

"Well, boys! Go into the Third Cavalry four months, as I did; and if any of you swear less than I do, I'll treat."

"One fault with the story, Captain," said another Lieutenant, detaining him; "you make no application."

"I didn't intend it as a sermon; what application would you make?"

"A very practical one, Captain. I would apply half a quarter to one man, half a quarter to another. Make a distribution among your friends."

The Captain, somewhat sold, told them to send down a detail, and he would distribute.

The detail returned, well loaded, having performed their duty faithfully, with the exception of trimming Sambo's fore-quarter "mighty close," as he phrased it.

That bullock turned out to be merely the first course of a grand flesh carnival, which lasted the remaining two days of the stay on Snicker's summit. The wood and fields almost swarmed with rabbits and quails; but although furnishing amusement to all, they were but titbits for the delicate. By some remissness of vigilance under the stringent orders, cattle, sheep, and hogs were slaughtered on all sides. There was an abundance of them; the farmers in the valley having driven them up, as was their custom, for the pasture and mast to be found in the fields and woods. Half wild, the flavor of their flesh was a close approach to that of game. As may be supposed, where licence was untrammelled, there was much needless slaughter. Fine carcasses were left as they fell, with the loss only of a few choice cuts. As the beasts, especially the pigs, which looked like our ordinary porkers well stretched, could run with great speed, the chase was amusing as well as exciting. Red breeches and blue fraternized and vied with each other in the sport, to quarrel, perhaps, over the spoils.

Few will fail to carry to their homes recollections of that pleasing episode in the history of the Regiment: the feasts of fat things, the space-built inclosures around the camp-fires that sheltered them from the blast, and were amphitheatres of amusement—recollections that will interest many a future fireside, destined, with the lapse of time, to become sacred as family traditions of the Revolution. And have they not equal claims? The Revolution founded the country; this struggle must save it from the infamous and despotic demands of a most foul and unnatural Rebellion.

"Halloo! Doctor! where did that 'animile' come from," inquired the Major, who formed one of a crowd, on the afternoon of the last day of their stay in the Head Quarters Spruce Retreat, as the little Dutch Doctor strutted alongside of a Corporal of an adjoining regiment, who led by a halter, extemporized from a musket-strap and a cross-belt, a small light dun horse.

"Mine, Major! Pay forty-five tollar—have pay five, only forty yet to get. How you like him? What you tink?"

The "only forty yet to get" amused the crowd, but the Major, with the gravity of a connoisseur, walked around the beast, nipped his legs, and opened his mouth.

"Doctor, it's a pity to use this beast—only two years old, and never shod. Is he broke?"

"No. No broke anywhere. Have look at whole of him."

The crowd laughed, and the Major with them.

"You don't understand me. Can you ride him?"

"Me no ride him, no saddle. Corporal, him ride all round."

The Corporal stated that he was broken in so far as to allow riding, and was very gentle, as indeed was apparent from the looks of the animal.

"When did you get him, Corporal?" was the query of one of the crowd.

"I bought four yesterday for four hundred and seventy-five dollars Confederate scrip."

"Why, where did you get that?"

"Bought it in Washington, when we first went through, of a boy on the Avenue for fifteen cents. I thought there might be a show for it some day or other."

The Corporal was a slender, lantern-jawed, weasel-faced Monongahela raftsman, sharp as a steel-trap.

"The old fellow," continued he, "hung on to five hundred dollars for about an hour. He took me into his house, gave me a nip of old apple brandy, and then he'd talk about his horses and then another nip, till we felt it a little, but no go. I had to jew, for it was all I had. I'd just as leave have given him another hundred, but I didn't tell him so. I told him I got it at Antietam."

"You d——d rascal," said he, "I had a son killed and robbed there, maybe it's his money. It looks as if it had been carried a good while."

"I had played smart with it, rubbed it, wet it, and in my breast pocket on those long marches it was well sweated."

"Suppose it was your son's," said I, "all is fair in war."

"That's so," said the old Rebel. "I have two other sons there; I would go myself, it I wasn't seventy-eight and upwards."

"Well, looky here," said I, "this isn't talking horse; we'll manage your sons, and you, too, if you don't dry up on your treason slang. Now, old covey, four hundred and seventy-five or I'm back to camp without them."

"I turned and got about ten steps, when he called me back and told me to take them. I got a bully pair of matches, fine blacks, that a Colonel in the Regiment paid me one hundred and twenty-five for at first sight, and a fine pacing bay that our Major gave me seventy-five for, and this one's left."

"Doctor, I'm about tired of trotting around after them other forty. They're givin' out cracker rations, and I don't want to be cheated out of mine, and I must go," said the Corporal, turning quickly to the Doctor.

The latter personage snapped his eyes, and kept his cap bobbing up and down, by wrinkling his forehead, as he somewhat plaintively asked the crowd for the funds.

"Good Lord! Doctor, you might as well try to milk a he-goat with a bramble bush as to get money in camp now," said the Major.

"Corporal," said the Adjutant, a fast friend of the Doctor's, and being of a musical turn, his partner in many a Dutch duet, as a bright idea struck him, "you don't want the money now—there are no sutlers about, suppose the Doctor gives you an order on the Pay-Master."

"Well," said the Corporal, after some little study, and keeping a sharp look-out on the Adjutant, whose features were fixed, "that's a fact, I have no use for the money now. If one of you Head-Quarter officers endorses it, I will. 'Spose it's all straight."

The Adjutant drew the order, and one of the Field-Officers endorsed it, after the manner of documents forwarded through regular military channels:

"Approved and respectfully forwarded."

It was handed to the Corporal, and he turned to go, leaving the horse with the Doctor, and giving the crowd an opportunity for their laugh, so far suppressed with difficulty. He had gone but a few paces when an exclamation from the quondam Third cavalryman called him back, and ended for the moment the laughter.

"Where does the old fellow live, Corporal?"

"Keep out that lane to the left, then across lots by a narrow path. Can't miss it. He has no more horses."

"Don't want horses."

"That apple brandy it's no use trying for."

"Boys," said the Captain, "I'm good for half a dozen canteens of the stuff, I'll bet my boots on it. Who'll go along?"

"I," replied a sturdy brother Captain.

"Recollect now. All here at nine to-night to receive our report. No use to tell you that, though, when whiskey is about," said the first Captain, as the crowd dispersed.

And that report was given by his comrade to the punctual crowd as follows:

"When I came out to the charred pine stumps on the lane, where I was to meet the Captain, it was a little before dusk. I was just about clear of the wood, when the Colonel's big black mare, ridden by the Captain, came bouncing over a scrub pine and lit right in front of me. The d——l himself couldn't have made me feel a colder shudder.

"'What's the matter? Where's your horse?'

"'I thought we had better walk,' said I, recovered from the fright; 'it's only a short distance.'

"'That ain't the thing. There must be some style about this matter.'

"I had noticed that the Captain had on the Colonel's fancy Regulation overcoat, a gilt edged fatigue cap, his over-long jingling Mexican spurs, and the Major's sabre dangling from his side. I came back, got the Adjutant's horse, and rejoined him.

"'Now, I want you to understand,' said the Captain, putting on his prettiest, as we jogged along the lane, 'that I'm General Burnside. How does that strike you?'

"'That you don't look a d—n bit like Burney. He is no fancy man. Your style is nearer the Prince's,—Fitz John. All you want are the yellow kids,' rejoined I.

"'Too near home, that. How will Gen. Franklin do?'

"As I knew nothing about Franklin's appearance, I said I supposed that would do. Before respectable people I'd have hated to see any of our Generals wronged by the Captain's looks, but as it was only a Rebel, it didn't make any difference. And then the object overcame all scruples.

"'Well,' continued the Captain, 'you are to be one of my aids. When we get near the house, just fall back a pace or two.'

"And off he rode, the big mare trotting like an elephant, and keeping my nag up to a gallop. Keeping back a pace or two was a matter of necessity. The Captain was full a hundred yards ahead when he halted near the house to give me time to get in position, his black mare prancing and snorting under the Mexican ticklers in a manner that would have done credit to Bucephalus. He pranced on up towards the house, which was a long weather-boarded structure, a story and a half high, with a porch running its entire length. The building was put up, I should judge, before the war of 1812, and not repaired since. A crabbed old man in a grey coat, with horn buttons, and tan-colored pantaloons, looking as if he didn't know what to make exactly of the character of his visitors, was on the porch. Near him, and somewhat in his rear, was a darkie about as old as himself.

"'Won't you get off your critters?' at length said the old man, his servant advancing to hold the horses.

"The Captain dismounted, and as his long spurs jingled, and the Major's sabre clattered on the rotten porch floor, the old fellow changed countenance considerably, impressed with the presence of greatness.

"'I am Major-General Franklin, sir, commander of a Grand Division of the Grand Army of the Potomac,' pompously said the Captain, at the same time introducing me as his Aid, Major Kennedy.

"'Well, gentlemen officers,' stammers the old man, confusedly, and bowing repeatedly, 'I always liked the old Union. I fit for it in the milish in the last war with the Britishers. Walk in, walk in,' continued he, pointing to the door which the darkie had opened.

"We went into a long room with a low ceiling, dirty floor with no carpet on, a few old chairs, with and without backs, and a walnut table that looked as if it once had leaves. In one corner was a clock, that stopped some time before the war commenced, as the old man afterwards told us, and in the opposite corner stood a dirty pine cupboard. While taking seats, I couldn't help thinking how badly the room would compare with a dining room of one of the neat little farm houses that you can see in any of our mountain gaps, where the land produces nothing but grasshoppers and rocks, and the farmers have to get along by raising chickens to keep down the swarms of grasshoppers, and by peddling huckleberries, and they say, but I never saw them at it, by holding the hind legs of the sheep up to let them get their noses between the rocks for pasture."

This latter assertion was indignantly denied by an officer who had his home in one of the gaps.

"'Well,' continued the Captain, 'I only give it as I heard it. The old man talked Union awhile, said he tried to be all right, but that his sons had run off with the Rebels; and he hemmed and hawed about his being all right until the Captain, who had been spitting fips a long time, got tired, especially after what the Corporal had said.

"'Well, my old brother patriot,' said the Captain, bending forward in his chair, and putting on a stern look, 'it don't look exactly right.'

"'How! What! gentlemen officers,' said the old Rebel, pretending, as he raised his hand to his ear, not to hear the Captain.

"The Captain repeated it louder in his gruff voice, and with a few more airs.

"'Why, gentlemen officers?' said the old man, rising, half bowing, and looking about, ready to do anything.

"'You know as well as we do,' said the Captain; 'that you wouldn't let two of your neighbors be this long in the house without offering them something to drink. Now, my old friend, as you say you're all right, we're neighbors in a good cause, and one neighborly act deserves another; you might be wanting to have your property protected, or to go to the Ferry, or to send something, and you could hardly get a pass without a Major-General having something to do with it.'

"At this last the old fellow's face brightened up somewhat.

"'I'll lose a right smart lot of crops,' said the old man, drawing his chair close to the Captain in a half begging, confidential sort of a way, 'if I don't get to the Ferry this fall. They're stored up there, and I want to go up and show them I am a Union man all right. George,' turning to the darkie, who, cap in hand, stood at the door, 'strike a light and get the waiter, and three glasses, and bring up some of the old apple in a pitcher. Be careful not to spill any. Liquor is mighty scarce,' continued he, turning to us, 'in these parts since the war. This 'ere I've saved over by hard squeezin'. It was stilled seven years ago this fall—the fall apples were so plenty.'

"George had the tallow-dip, a rusty waiter, three small old-fashioned blue glass tumblers, and a pitcher with the handle knocked off, on the table in good time. We closed around it with our chairs, and the Captain filled the glasses, and rising, gave for the first round 'The old Union.' Our glasses were emptied; the old man had but sipped of his.

"'My old friend, you fought in 1812, you say, and hardly touch your tumbler to the old Union. Come, it must have a full glass.' The authority in the tone of the Captain made the old man swallow it, but as he did so he muttered something about its being very scarce.

"'Now,' said the Captain, refilling the glasses, 'Here is The Union as it is.'

"The old Rebel feeling his first glass a little, and they say anyway when wine goes in the truth comes out, said in rather a low, trembling tone,

"'Now, the fact is, gentlemen officers, some Yankees—not you! not you! but some Yankees way up North, acted kind of bad.'

"'That's not the question,' said the Captain, 'there are bad men all over, and lots of them in Virginia. The toast is before the house,'—the Captain had already swallowed his—'and it must be drunk;' and the Major's sabre struck the floor till the table shook.

"With a shudder at the sound the old man gulped it down. The glasses were refilled and the pitcher emptied.

"'Here's to The blessed Union as it will be, after all the d——d Rebels are either under the sod or swinging in hemp neck-ties about ten feet above it,' the Captain shouted, waving at the same time his uplifted glass in a way that brought a grin on George's face, and made the old man look pale.

"'Now! now! now! gentlemen officers,' gasped the old traitor, as if his breath was coming back by jerks, 'that is pretty hard, considerin'—considerin' my two sons ran off 'gainst my will—'gainst my will, gentlemen officers, understand, and jined the Rebels;' and then, as the liquor worked up his pluck and pride, he went on, 'and old Stonewall when he was here last, told me himself at this very table that such soldiers the South could be proud of; and Turner Ashby told me the same thing, and it would be agin all natur for an old man not to feel proud of such boys, after hearing all that from such men, and now you want me to drink such a toast. That——'

"'Yes, sir,' broke in the Captain, who had emptied his glass, 'and it must be done.'

"'The fact is, gentlemen officers,' the liquor still working up his pluck, 'we Southerners had to fit you. You sent old Brown down to run off our niggers, and then when we hung him, you come yourselves. Every cussed nigger—and I had forty-three in all—has left me and ran away but old George and two old wenches that can't run, and are good for nothin' but to chaw corndodgers.' The whiskey now worked fast on the old man, and making half a fist, he said, 'I reckon when hangin' day comes some Blue Bellies will have an airin'.'

"'You d——d grey-headed old traitor!' roared out the Captain, 'the liquor has let the treason out. Now, by all that's holy, drink that toast standing, head up, as if there was patriotic blood in your veins—as if you lived in the State Washington was born in—or you'll find out what it is to talk treason before a Major-General of the army of the United States.' Another stroke of the sabre on the floor that rattled the broken glass in the windows followed. The old man gave another shudder, straightened up, steadied himself at the table with his left hand, and with a swallow that nearly strangled him, drank off his glass.

"'Ha! old fellow,' said the Captain, grinning, 'you came near cheating hemp that clip.'

"'George, show us where the apple brandy is,' he continued, addressing the darkie.

"The darkie bowed, grinned, and pointed to the door leading to the cellar way.

"'Oh, Lord! my spirits! Don't take it, gentlemen officers, I must have a morning dram, and it's all I've got. Let me keep the spirits.'

"'You old d——l!' exclaimed the Captain, as he eyed him savagely, 'spirits have made all the trouble in the country. Yes, sir. Bad whiskey and worse preaching of false spiritual doctrines, such as slavery being a Divine institution, and what not, started the Rebellion, and keep it up. Spirits are contraband of war, just as Ben Butler says niggers are, and we'll confiscate it'—here the Captain gave me a sly look—'in the name and by the authority of the President of the United States. Major, where's your canteens?'

"I produced three that had been slung under my cape, and the Captain as many more.

"As the old Rebel saw the preparations he groaned out, 'My God! and only four inches in the barrel George! mind, the barrel in the corner.'

"Knowing the darkie would be all right, we followed under pretty stiff loads, the old man bringing up the rear, staggering to the door and getting down the steps on his hands and knees.

"The Captain tasted both barrels. One in a corner was commissary that the darkie said 'Massa had dickered for just the day afore.' The other was well nigh empty. George, old as he was, had the steadiest hands, and he filled the canteens one by one, closing their mouths on the cedar spigot. As he did it, he whispered, 'Dis'll make de ole nigger feel good. Massa gets flustered on dis and 'buses de ole wimin. De commissary fotches him—can't hurt nuffin wid dat.'

"'There's devilish little to fluster him now,' said the Captain, as he tipped the barrel to fill the last canteen.

"The old man had stuck at the bottom of the steps. George fairly carried him up, and he lay almost helpless on the floor.

"'That last toast,' said the Captain, as we left the room, 'will knock any Rebel.'

"George held the horses, and I rather guess steadied our legs as we got on, well loaded with apple juice inside and out. The Captain's spurs sent the black mare off at a gallop, over rocks and bushes, and he left me far behind in a jiffy. But I did in earnest act as an aid before we got to camp. I found him near the place where we turn in, fast between two scrub oaks, swearing like a trooper at the pickets, as he called the bushes, for arresting him, and unable to get backward or forward. His swearing saved him that clip, as it was dark, and I would have gone past if I hadn't heard it."

"I move the adoption of the report, with the thanks of the meeting to Major-General Franklin and his genuine Aid," said the Adjutant, after a stiff drink all around.

"I move that it be referred back for report on the Commissary," said a Lieutenant, after another equally stiff round.

The Adjutant would not withdraw his motion,—no chairman to preserve order,—brandy good,—drinks frequent, and in the confusion that ensued we close the chapter, remarking only that the Commissary was spared to the old Rebel, through an order to march at four next morning, that came to hand near midnight.



CHAPTER XII.

The March to Warrenton—Secesh Sympathy and Quarter-Master's Receipts—Middle-Borough—The Venerable Uncle Ned and his Story of the Captain of the Tigers—The Adjutant on Strategy—Red-Tapism and Mac-Napoleonism—Movement Stopped—Division Head-Quarters out of Whiskey—Stragglers and Marauders—A Summary Proceeding—Persimmons and Picket-Duty—A Rebellious Pig—McClellanism.

The order to march at four meant moving at six, as was not unfrequently the case, the men being too often under arms by the hour shivering for the step, while the Staff Officers who issued the orders were snoozing in comfortable blankets. Be the cause what it might that morning, the soldiers probably did not regret it, as it gave them opportunity to see the lovely valley of the Shenandoah exposed to their view for the last time, as the fog gradually lifted before the rays of the rising sun. The Shenandoah, like a silver thread broken by intervening foliage, lay at their feet. Far to the right, miles distant, was Charlestown, where old John's soul, appreciative of the beauties of nature at the dread hour of execution, seeing in them doubtless the handiwork of nature's God, exclaimed "This is indeed a beautiful country." In the front, dim in the distance, was Winchester, readily discovered by the bold mountain spur in its rear. Smaller villages dotted the valley, variegated by fields and woods—all rebellious cities of the plain, nests of treason and granaries of food for traitors. A blind mercy that, on the part of the Administration, that procured its almost total exemption from the despoiling hand of war.

Some in the ranks on Snicker's Summit that fine morning could remember the impudent Billingsgate of look and tongue with which Mrs. Faulkner would fling in their faces a general pass, from a wagon loaded with garden truck for traitors in arms at Bunker Hill—but an instance of long continued good-nature, to use a mild phrase, of the many that have characterized our movements in the field. Well does the great discerner of the desires of men as well as delineator of the movements of their passions, make Crook Richard on his foully usurped and tottering throne exclaim,

"War must be brief when traitors brave the field."

At a later day, in a holier cause, the line remains an axiom. Nor at the time of which we write was the policy much changed. While all admit the necessity, for the preservation of proper discipline, of having Rebel property for the use of the army taken formally under authorities duly constituted for the purpose, and not by indiscriminate license to the troops, none can be so blind as to fail to see the bent of the sympathies controlling the General in command. During the march to Middle-Borough, horses were taken along the route to supply deficiencies in the teams, and forage for their use, but in all cases the women who claimed to represent absent male owners—absent doubtless in arms—and who made no secret of their own Rebel inclinations, received Quarter-Master's receipts for their full value—generally, in fact, their own valuation. These receipts were understood to be presently payable. The interests of justice and our finances would have been much better subserved had their payment been conditioned upon the loyalty of the owner. A different policy would not have comported, however, with that which at an earlier day placed Lee's mansion on the Peninsula under double guard, and when you give it the in that case sorry merit of consistency, its best excuse is given.

Beyond some lives lost by a force of Regulars who ventured too near the river without proper precautions the day after we occupied the Gap, and the loss of a Regimental head-quarters wagon, loaded with the officers' baggage, broken down upon a road on which the exhorting Colonel, after deliberate survey, had set his heart as the safest of roads from the Summit, nothing of note occurred during the stay. Our evacuation of the Gap was almost immediately followed by Rebel occupation.

The statement that nothing of note occurred may, perhaps, be doing injustice to our little Dutch Doctor, who had the best of reasons for remembering the morning of our departure from Snicker's Summit. To the Doctor the mountain, with its rocks, seemed familiar ground. A Tyrolese by birth, he loved to talk of his mountain home and sing its lively airs. But that sweet home had one disadvantage. Their beasts of draught and burden were oxen, and the only horse in the village was a cart-horse owned by the Doctor's father. Of necessity, therefore, his horsemanship was defective, an annoying affair in the army. Many officers and men were desirous of seeing the Doctor mount and ride his newly purchased horse, and the Doctor was quite as anxious to evade observation. His saddle was on and blankets strapped as he surveyed the beast, now passing to this side and now to that, giving wide berth to heels that never kicked, and with his servant at hand, waiting until the last files of the Regiment had disappeared in the woods below. Not unobserved, however, for two of the Field and Staff had selected a clump of scrub pines close at hand for the purpose of witnessing the movement. A rock near by served him as a stand from which to mount. The horse was brought up, and the Doctor, after patting his head and rubbing his neck to assure himself of the good intentions of the animal, cautiously took his place in the saddle and adjusted his feet in the stirrups.

The animal moved off quietly enough, until the Doctor, to increase his speed, touched him in the flank with his spur, when the novel sensation to the beast had the effect of producing a sudden flank movement, which resulted in the instant precipitation of the Doctor upon his back among the rocks and rough undergrowth. The horse stood quietly; there was no movement of the bushes among which the Doctor fell, and the mirth of the observers changed to fear lest an accident of a serious nature had occurred. The officers and servant rushed to the spot. Fortunately the fall had been broken somewhat by the bushes, but nevertheless plainly audible groans in Dutch escaped him, and when aware of the presence of the observers, exclamations in half broken English as to what the result might have been. The actual result was that the horse was forthwith condemned as "no goot" by the Doctor; an ambulance sent for, and necessity for the first time made him take a seat during the march in that vehicle, a practice disgracefully common among army surgeons. The horse in charge of the servant followed, but was ever after used as a pack. No amount of persuasion, even when way-worn and foot-sore from the march, could induce the Doctor to remount his charger.

Middle-Borough, a pretty place near the Bull Run Range of mountains, was reached about ten o'clock in the forenoon of the day after leaving the Gap. After the first Bull Run battle the place was made use of, as indeed were all the towns as far up the country as Martinsburg, as a Rebel hospital. Some of the inmates in butternut and grey, with surgeons and officers on parole in like color, but gorgeous in gilding, were still to be seen about the streets. Greyheaded darkies and picaninnies peered with grinning faces over every fence. The wenches were busily employing the time allowed for the halt in baking hoe-cakes for the men.

In front of the principal mansion of the place, owned by a Major in the Rebel service under Jackson, a small group of officers and men were interesting themselves in the examination of an antique naval sword that had just been purchased by a Sergeant from a venerable Uncle Ned, who stood hat in hand, his bald head exposed to the sun, bowing as each new comer joined the crowd.

"Dat sword, gemmen," said the negro, politely and repeatedly bowing, "belonged to a Captain ob de Louisiana Tigers dat Hannar Amander and me nussed, case he came late and couldn't get into de hospitals or houses, dey was so full right after de fust big Bull Run fight. His thigh was all shot to pieces. He hadn't any money, and didn't seem to hab any friends but Hannar Amander."

"Who is Hannah Amanda?" said one of the crowd.

"My wife, sah," said the old man, crossing his breast slowly with his right hand and profoundly bowing.

"Hannar Amander said de young man must be cared for, dat de good Lor would hold us 'countable if we let him suffer, so we gab him our bed, shared our little hoe-cake and rye coffee wid him, and Susan Matildar, my darter, and my wife dressed de wound as how de surgeon would tell us. But after about five days de surgeon shook his head and told de Captain he couldn't lib. De poor young man failed fast arter dat; he would moan and mutter all time ober ladies' names.

"'Reckon you hab a moder and sisters?' said my wife to him one morning.

"'Oh, God! yes,' said de fine-looking young man, for, as Hannar Amander said, he was purty as a pictur, and she'd often say how much would his moder and sisters gib if dey could only nuss him instead of us poor culled pussons. He said, too, he was no Rebel at heart—dat he was from de Norf, and a clerk in a store at New Orleans, and dey pressed him to go, and den he thought he'd better go as Captain if he had to go, and dey made him Captain. 'And now I must die a traitor! My God! when will my moder and sisters hear of dis, and what will dey say?' and he went on so and moaned; and when we found out he was from up Norf, and sorry at dat for being a Rebel, we felt all de warmer toward him. He called us bery kind, but moaned and went on so dreadfully dat my wife and darter didn't know what to do to comfort him. Dey bathed his head and made him cool drinks, but no use. 'It's not de pain ob de body,' said Hannar Amander to me, 'it's ob de heart—dat's what's de matter.'

"'Hab you made your peace wid God, and are you ready for eberlasting rest?' said my wife to him.

"'My God!' groaned he, 'dere's no peace or rest for me. I'm a sinner and a Rebel too. Oh, I can't die in such a cause!' and he half raised up, but soon sunk down again.

"'We'm all rebels to de bressed God. His Grace alone can sab us,' said my wife, and she sung from dat good hymn

"'Tis God alone can gib De bliss for which we sigh.'

"'Susan Matildar, bring your Bible and read some.' While she said dis, de poor young man's eyes got full ob tears.

"'Oh, my poor moder! how she used to read to me from dat book, and how I've neglected it,' said he.

"Den Susan Matildar—she'd learned to read from her missus' little girls—read about all de weary laden coming unto de blessed Sabiour. Wheneber she could she'd read to him, and I went and got good old Brudder Jones to pray for him. By un by de young man begin to pray hisself, and den he smiled, and den, oh, I neber can forget how Hannar Amander clapped her hands and shouted 'Now I know he's numbered wid de army ob de Lor'! kase he smiles.' Dat was his first smile; but I can tell you, gemmen, it grew brighter and brighter, and by un by his face was all smiles, and he died saying he'd meet his moder and all ob us in Hebben, and praising de bressed Lor'!"

The old man wiped his eyes, and there was a brief pause, none caring even in that rough, hastily collected crowd to break the silence that followed his plain and pathetic statement.

"But how did you get the sword?" at last inquired one.

"Before he died he said he was sorry he could not pay us for our kindness," resumed the old man. "Hannar Amander said dat shouldn't trouble him, our pay would be entered up in our 'ternal count.

"And den he gab me dis sword and said I should keep it and sell it, and dat would bring me suffin'. And he gab Susan Matildar his penknife. De Secesh am 'quiring about de sword. I'd like to keep it, to mind de young man by, but we've all got him here," said the old man, pointing to his heart. "I'd sooner gib it to you boys dan sell it to de Rebels, but de Sargeant yer was good enough to pay me suffin for it, and den I cant forget dat good young man, I see his grave every day. We buried him at de foot ob our little lot, and Susan Matildar keeps flowers on his grave all day long. Her missus found out he was from de Norf and was sorry 'fore he died he had been a Rebel, and she told Susan Matildar she wouldn't hab buried him dere. But Hannar Amander said dat if all de Rebels got into glory so nice dey'd do well; and de sooner dey are dere de better for us all, dis ole man say."

This last brought a smile to the crowd, and a collection was taken up for the old man.

"Bress you, gemmen! bress you! Served my Master forty-five years and hab nuffin to show for it. Our little patch Hannar Amander got, but I tries to sarve de Lor at de same time, and dere is a better 'count kept ob dat in a place where old Master dead and gone now pas' twenty years, will nebber hab a chance ob getting at de books."

The old man had greatly won upon his hearers, when the bugle called them to their posts.

Our corps from this place took the road to White Plains, near which little village they encamped in a wood for two nights and a day, while a snow-storm whitened the fields.

* * * * *

"Let the hawk stoop, the bird has flown,"

said a boyish-faced officer who was known in the Regiment as the Poetical Lieutenant, to the Adjutant, as he pushed aside the canvas door of the Office Tent on one of those wintry evenings. The caller had left the studies of the Sophomoric year,—or rather his Scott, Byron, Burns, and the popular novelists of the day,—for the recruiting service in his native county. The day-dreams of the boy as to the gilded glory of the soldier had been roughly broken in upon by severe practical lessons, in tedious out-post duty and wearisome marches. He could remember, as could many others, how he had admired the noble and commanding air with which Washington stands in the bow of the well loaded boat as represented on the historic canvas, and the stern determination depicted upon the countenances of the rest of his Roman-nosed comrades—(why is it that our historic artists make all our Revolutionary Fathers Roman-nosed? If their pictures are faithful, where in the world do our swarms of pugs and aquilines come from worn by those claiming Revolutionary descent? Is it beyond their skill to make a pug or an aquiline an index to nobility of soul or heroic resolve?)—as they keep the frozen masses borne by that angry tide at safe distance from the frail bark—but he then felt nothing of the ice grating the sides of the vessel in which he hoped to make the voyage of life, nor shuddered at the wintry midnight blast that swept down the valley of the Delaware. His dreams had departed; but poetical quotations remained for use at every opportunity.

"What's the matter now?" says the Adjutant.

"One of the Aids just told me," rejoined the Lieutenant, "that the Rebels were in force in our front, and would contest the Rappahannock, while the possession of the Gap we have just left lets them in upon our rear."

"The old game played out again," says the Adjutant. "Another string loose in the bag. Strategy in one respect resembles mesmerism—the object operated upon must remain perfectly quiet. Are we never to suppose that the Rebels have plans, and that their vigilance increases, and will increase, in proportion to the extremity of their case? Our theorists and routine men move armies as a student practises at chess, as if the whole field was under their control, and both armies at their disposal. With our immense resources, vigorous fighting and practical common sense would speedily suppress the Rebellion. Where are our old fighting stock of Generals? our Hookers, Heintzelmans, Hancocks, and men of like kidney? Why must their fiery energies succumb to a cold-blooded strategy, that wastes the materiel of war, and what is worse, fills our hospitals to no purpose? Those men have learned how to command from actual contact with men. The art of being practical, adapting one's self to emergencies, is not taught in schools. With some it is doubtless innate; with the great mass, it is a matter of education, such as is acquired from moving among men."

"We have the Pyrrhic dance as yet; Where is our Pyrrhic phalanx gone? Of two such lessons why forget The nobler and the manlier one?"

broke in our Poetical Lieutenant.

"D—n your Pyrrhics," retorted the Adjutant, snappishly. "For the Pyrrhics of past days we have Empirics now. Our phalanxes of old have been led to victory by militia Colonels, who sprang from the thinking head of the people, glowing with the sacred fire of their cause. Do you not believe," continued he enthusiastically, "that the loyal masses who sprang into ranks at the insult upon Sumter would have found a leader long ere this worthy of their cause, whose rapid and decisive blows would have saved us disgraceful campaigns, had the nation been unencumbered by this ruin of a Regular Army, that has given us little else than a tremendous array of officers, many of them of the Pigeon-hole and Paper order,—beggarly lists of Privates,—Routine that must be carried out at any cost of success,—and Red Tape that everywhere represses patriotism? And then to think, too, of the half-heartedness and disaffection. How long must these sneaking Catilines in high places abuse our patience? But what can be expected from officers who are not in the service from patriotic motives, but rather from prospects of pay and position? End the war, and you will have men who are now unworthy Major and Brigadier Generals, subsiding into Captains and Lieutenants. Their movements indicate that they realize their position fully; but when will the country realize that 'strategy' is played out?"

"The whiskey at Division Head-quarters is played out, any way," said a Sergeant on duty in the Commissary Department, who had entered the tent while the Adjutant was speaking.

"'And not a drop to drink,'"

rejoined the Lieutenant.

"Then, by Heaven, we are lost," continued the Adjutant. "Strategy played out and our General of Division out of whiskey. Yes, sir! those mishaps end all further movement of this Grand Army of the Potomac. But when did you hear that?"

"I was in the marquee of the Brigade Commissary when a Sergeant and a couple of privates on duty about Pigey's Head-quarters came in with a demijohn and a note to the Commissary, presenting the compliments of the General commanding Division, and at the same time the cash for four gallons of whiskey. The Captain read it carefully and told the Sergeant to tell the General that he didn't keep a dram-shop. I expected that this reply would make sport, and I concluded to wait awhile and see the thing out. In a few minutes the Sergeant returned, stating that he had not given that reply to the General, through fear, I suppose, but had stated that the Captain had made some excuse. He said further that Pigey said he was entirely out, and must have some.

"'Tell him what I told you,' said the Captain, determinedly. Off the Sergeant started. I waited for his return outside, and asked him how Pigey took the answer. 'Took it?' said he, 'I didn't tell him about the dram-shop, but when he found I had none, he raved like mad—swore he was entirely out—had been since morning, and must and would have some. He d——d the Captain for being a temperance fanatic, and for bringing his fanatical notions into the army; and all the while he paced up and down his marquee like a tiger at a menagerie. At last he told me that I must return again and tell the Captain that it was a case of absolute necessity, and that he knew that there was a barrel of it among the Commissary stores, and that he must have his four gallons.'

"I followed the Sergeant in, but he could not make it. The Captain had just turned it over to the Hospital.

"So the Sergeant went back again with the empty demijohn. He told me afterwards that the General was so taken aback by his not getting any, that he sat quietly down on his camp stool, ran his fingers through his hair, pulled at his moustache, and then 'I knew,' said the Sergeant, 'that a storm was brewing, and that the General was studying how to do justice to the subject. At length he rose slowly, kicked his hat that had fallen at his feet to one corner of the marquee, d——g it at the same time; d——d me for not getting it any how, and clenching his fists and walking rapidly up and down, d——d the Captain, his Brigadier, and everything belonging to the Brigade, until I thought it a little too hard for a man who had had a Sunday School education in his young days to listen to, and I left him still cursing.'"

"He will court-martial the Captain," said the Colonel, who had entered the tent, "for signal contempt of the Regular Service. I recollect a charge of that kind preferred by a Regular Lieutenant against an Adjutant of the —— Maine, down in the Peninsula. In one of our marches the Adjutant had occasion to ride rapidly by the Regiment to which the Lieutenant belonged. The Lieutenant hailed him—told him to stop. The Adjutant knowing his duty, and that he had no authority to halt him, continued his pace, but found himself for nearly a month afterward in arrest under a charge of 'Signal contempt for the Regular Service.'"

Sigel's hardy Teutons lined the road in the vicinity of New Baltimore, through which village the route lay on the following day. Part of his corps had some days previously occupied the mountain gaps in the Bull Run range on the left. Other troops, led by a Commander whose strategy was singularly efficacious to keep him out of fights, were passing to the front, leaving a fighting General of undoubted prowess in European and American history, in the rear. Inefficient himself, and perhaps designedly so, his policy could not, with safety to his own reputation, allow of efficiency elsewhere.

That night our Regiment encamped in one of the old pine fields common in Virginia. The softness of the decaying foliage of the pine which covered the ground as a cushion was admirably adapted to repose, and upon it the men rested, while the gentle evening breeze sighed among the boughs above them, as if in sympathy with disappointed hopes and sacrifices made in vain.

"Stragglers and marauders, sir," said a Sergeant of the Provost Guard, saluting the Colonel, who was one of the circle lying cozily about the fire, pointing as he spoke to a squad of way-worn, wo-begone men under guard in his rear. "Here is a list of their offences. I was ordered to report them for punishment."

"A new wrinkle, that," said the Colonel, as the Sergeant left. "Our Brigadier must be acting upon his own responsibility. Our General of Division would certainly never have permitted such an opportunity slip for employing the time of officers in Courts-martial. That list would have kept one of our Division Courts in session at least three weeks, and have given the General himself an infinite amount of satisfaction in examining his French authorities, and in strictures upon the Records. What have we here, any how?"

No. 1. "Straggling to a persimmon tree on the road-side."

"That man," said a Lieutenant, "when he saw our Brigadier coming up, presented him with a couple of persimmons very politely. But it was no go; the General ordered him under guard and eat the persimmons as part of the punishment."

"Well," rejoined the Colonel, "we'll let you off with guard duty for the night."

No. 2. "Killing a shoat while the Regiment halted at noon."

The man charged was a fine-looking young fellow whose only preparation for the musket, when he enlisted, was previous practice with the yard stick in a dry goods establishment. Intelligent and good-natured, he was popular in the command, and was never known to let his larder suffer.

"Was it a Rebel pig?" inquired a bystander.

"A most rebellious pig," replied he, bowing to the Colonel. "He gave us a great amount of trouble, and rebelled to the last." A laugh followed, interrupted by the Colonel, who desired to hear the circumstances of the case.

"Right after we had halted on the other side of New Baltimore," continued the man, "I saw the pig rooting about a corn shock, and as my haversack was empty, and myself hungry, I thought I could dispose of part of him to advantage, and before I had time to reflect about the order, I commenced running after him. Several others followed, and some officers near by stood looking at us. After skinning my hands and knees in trying to catch him by throwing myself upon him, I finally caught him. When I had him skinned, I gave a piece to all the officers who saw me, saving only a ham for myself, and I was dressing it when up came a Lieutenant of the Provost Guard and demanded it. I debated the matter as well as a keen appetite would allow, and finally coming to the conclusion that I could not serve my country as I should, if half starved, I resolved to keep it, and refused him, and he reported me, and here I am with it at your service," clapping his hand on a well filled haversack.

One-half of the meat was confiscated, but the novelty of the sergeant's patriotic plea saved him further penalty.

No. 3. Caught in a negro shanty, in company with an old wench.

The crowd laughed; while the subject, a tall cadaverous-looking fellow, protested earnestly that he was only waiting while the wench baked him a hoe-cake.

"Guard duty for the night," said the Colonel.

"Poor devil! He will have to keep awake, and can't sing—'Sleeping I dream, love, dream, love, of thee'"—said the poetical Lieutenant, who chanced to be one of the group.

No. 4. Caught by the General Commanding Division, twenty feet high on a persimmon tree, and Nos. 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10 on the ground below; also "Lying."

"Another persimmon crowd. Every night we are troubled with the persimmon business," said the Colonel; "but what does the 'also Lying' mean?"

"Why," said a frank fellow of the crowd, "you see when the old General came up, I said it was a picket station, and that the man up the tree was looking out for the enemy. It was a big thing, I thought, but the General didn't see it, and he swore he would persimmon us."

"Which meant," said the Colonel, "that you would lose your persimmons, and go on extra police duty for forty-eight hours each."

The crowd were lectured upon straggling, that too frequent offence of Volunteers, and after a severe reprimand dismissed.

The country abounded in persimmon trees, and their golden fruit was a sore temptation to teeth sharpened on army crackers. As the season advanced, and persimmons became more palatable, crowds would thus be brought up nightly for punishment. This summary procedure was an innovation by the Brigadier upon the Red-Tape formulary of Courts-martial, so rigidly adhered to, and fondly indulged in, by the General of Division. The Brigadier would frequently himself dispose of delinquencies of the kind, telling the boys in a manner that made them feel that he cared for their welfare, that they had been entrusted to him by the country for its service, and that he considered himself under obligations to their relatives and friends to see that while under his command their characters received no detriment, and while becoming good soldiers they would not grow to be bad citizens. He made them realize, that although soldiers they were still citizens; and many a man has left him all the better for a reprimand which reminded him of duties to relatives and society at large. How much nobility of soul might be spared to the country with care of this kind, on the part of commanders. Punishment is necessary—but how many to whom it is intrusted forget that in giving it a moral effect upon society, care should be taken that it may operate beneficially upon the individual. The General who crushes the soul out of his command by exacting infamous punishments for trivial offences, is but a short remove from the commander who would basely surrender it to the enemy on the barest pretext. Punishment has too often been connected with prejudice against Volunteers in the Army of the Potomac, controlled as it has been too much by martinets. That a nation of freemen could have endured so long the contumely of a proud military leader when his incapacity was so apparent, will be a matter of wonder for the historian. The inconsistency that would follow the great Napoleon in modelling an army and neglect his example in giving it mobility, with eminent propriety leaves the record of its exploits to depend upon the pen of a scion of the unmilitary House of Orleans.

But the decree "thus far shalt thou come," forced upon an honest but blindly indulgent President by the People, who will not forget that power is derived from them, had already gone forth, although not yet officially announced to the Army; and it was during the week at Warrenton, our halting-place on the morrow, that the army, with the citizens at home, rejoiced that the work of staying the proud waves of imbecility, as well as insult, to our Administration, had commenced. The history of reforms is one of the sacrifice of blood, money, and time. Frightful bills of mortality, shattered finances, nineteen months of valuable time, do not in this case admit of an exception.



CHAPTER XIII.

Camp near Warrenton—Stability of the Republic—Measures, not Men, regarded by the Public—Removal of McClellan—Division Head-Quarters a House of Mourning—A Pigeon-hole General and his West Point Patent-Leather Cartridge-Box—Head-Quarter Murmurings and Mutterings—Departure of Little Mac and the Prince—Cheering by Word of Command—The Southern Saratoga—Rebel Regret at McClellan's Departure.