And painted barrels, too.

We shouldered arms, we carried arms,

We charged the bayonet;

And woe unto the mullen stalk

That in our course we met!

The armies played havoc with each other, had fearful encounters and, what seemed to our young minds then, suffered disastrous results. Camps, regiments, brigades, military terms, she said, thus became familiar to her as the most ordinary matters of home.

Is it warm in that green valley,

Vale of childhood, where you dwell?

Is it calm in that green valley,

Round whose bowers such great hills swell?