I GET A FURLOUGH
After going through all the formality of red-tapeism, and being snubbed with tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee, I got my furlough. When it started out, it was on the cleanest piece of paper that could be found in Buck Lanier's sutler's store. After it came back, it was pretty well used up, and looked as if it had gone through a very dark place, and been beat with a soot-bag. But, anyhow, I know that I did not appreciate my furlough half as much as I thought I would. I felt like returning it to the gentlemen with my compliments, declining their kind favors. I felt that it was unwillingly given, and, as like begets like, it was very unwillingly received. Honestly, I felt as if I had made a bad bargain, and was keen to rue the trade. I did not know what to do with it; but, anyhow, I thought I would make the best of a bad bargain. I got on the cars at Dalton—now, here is a thing that I had long since forgotten about—it was the first first-class passenger car that I had been in since I had been a soldier. The conductor passed around, and handed me a ticket with these words on it:
"If you wish to travel with ease,
Keep this ticket in sight, if you please;
And if you wish to take a nap,
Just stick this in your hat or cap."
This was the poetry, reader, that was upon the ticket. The conductor called around every now and then, especially if you were asleep, to look at your ticket, and every now and then a captain and a detail of three soldiers would want to look at your furlough. I thought before I got to Selma, Alabama, that I wished the ticket and furlough both were in the bottom of the ocean, and myself back in camp. Everywhere I went someone wanted to see my furlough. Before I got my furlough, I thought it sounded big. Furlough was a war word, and I did not comprehend its meaning until I got one. The very word "furlough" made me sick then. I feel fainty now whenever I think of furlough. It has a sickening sound in the ring of it—"furlough!" "Furloch," it ought to have been called. Every man I met had a furlough; in fact, it seemed to have the very double-extract of romance about it—"fur too, eh?" Men who I knew had never been in the army in their lives, all had furloughs. Where so many men ever got furloughs from I never knew; but I know now. They were like the old bachelor who married the widow with ten children—he married a "ready-made" family. They had ready-made furloughs. But I have said enough on the furlough question; it enthralled me—let it pass; don't want any more furloughs. But while on my furlough, I got with Captain G. M. V. Kinzer, a fine-dressed and handsome cavalry captain, whom all the ladies (as they do at the present day), fell in love with. The captain and myself were great friends. The captain gave me his old coat to act captain in, but the old thing wouldn't act. I would keep the collar turned down. One night we went to call on a couple of beautiful and interesting ladies near Selma. We chatted the girls until the "wee sma' hours" of morning, and when the young ladies retired, remarked that they would send a servant to show us to our room. We waited; no servant came. The captain and myself snoozed it out as best we could. About daylight the next morning the captain and myself thought that we would appear as if we had risen very early, and began to move about, and opening the door, there lay a big black negro on his knees and face. Now, reader, what do you suppose that negro was doing? You could not guess in a week. The black rascal! hideous! terrible to contemplate! vile! outrageous! Well, words cannot express it. What do you suppose he was doing? He was fast asleep. He had come thus far, and could go no further, and fell asleep. There is where the captain and myself found him at daylight the next morning. We left for Selma immediately after breakfast, leaving the family in ignorance of the occurrence. The captain and myself had several other adventures, but the captain always had the advantage of me; he had the good clothes, and the good looks, and got all the good presents from the pretty young ladies—well, you might say, "cut me out" on all occasions. "That's what makes me 'spise a furlough." But then furlough sounds big, you know.