Sights in Jefferson City.
Jefferson City, Mo., October 6, 1861.
These deep ravines and this fathomless mud offer to obstinate mules unlimited facilities for shying, and infinite possibilities of miring. Last night, six animals and an army wagon went over a small precipice, and, after a series of somersaults, driver, wagon, and mules, reached the bottom, in a very chaotic condition.
Jefferson is strong on the wet weather question. When Lyon got here in June, he was welcomed by one man with an umbrella. When Fremont arrived, a few nights ago, he was taken in charge by the same gentleman, who was floundering about through the mud with a lantern, seeking, not an honest man, but quarters for the commanding general.
Most of the troops have gone forward, but some remain. Newly mounted officers, who sit upon their steeds much as an elephant might walk a tight rope, dash madly through the streets, fondly dreaming that they witch the world with noble horsemanship. Subalterns show a weakness for brass buttons, epaulettes, and gold braid, which leaves feminine vanity quite in the shade.
In the camps, the long roll is sometimes sounded at midnight, to accustom officers and men to spring to arms. Upon the first of these sudden calls from Morpheus to Mars, the negro servant of a staff-officer was so badly frightened that he brought up his master's horse with the crupper about the neck instead of the tail. The mistake was discovered just in season to save the rider from the proverbial destiny of a beggar on horseback.
"Fights mit Sigel."
Here is a German private very shaky in the legs; he swears by Fremont and "fights mit Sigel." Too much "lager" is the trouble with him; and, in serene though harmless inebriety, he is arrested by a file of soldiers. A capital print in circulation represents a native and a German volunteer, with uplifted mugs of the nectar of Gambrinus, striking hands to the motto, "One flag, one country, zwei lager!"
Here is a detachment of Home Guards, whose "uniform is multiform." To a proposition, that the British militia should never be ordered out of the country, Pitt once moved the satirical proviso, "Except in case of invasion." So it is alleged that the Missouri Home Guards are very useful—except in case of a battle; and I hear one merciless critic style them the "Home Cowards." This is unjust; but they illustrate the principle, that to attain good drill and discipline, soldiers should be beyond the reach of home.
Camp Lillie, upon a beautiful grassy slope, is the head-quarters of the commander. In his tent, directing, by telegraph, operations throughout this great department, or upon horseback, personally inspecting the regiments, you meet the peculiarly graceful, slender, compact, magnetic man whose assignment here awoke so much enthusiasm in the West. General Fremont is quiet, well-poised, and unassuming. His friends are very earnest, his enemies very bitter. Those who know him only by his early exploits, are surprised to find in the hero of the frontier the graces of the saloon. He impresses one as a man very modest, very genuine, and very much in earnest.