“Waid a minute, of you blease,” said the colonel. “Dake von more drink, and dell me, of you please, vot de hell you vos drying to get at. Capt. Hemrech, gif der shendleman a glass of beer.”
A second glass of beer was given me, and I drank it. There was evidently a suspicion on the part of the New Jersey officers that the importance of my visit had been over-rated by them, and they seemed anxious to have me come to the point.
“On the march today,” said I, wiping the foam off my moustache on my shirt-sleeve, “one of your thieving soldiers stole my boots from our nigger cook, who was conveying them for me. A cavalry soldier without boots, is no good. I came after my boots, and I will have them or blood. Return my boots, or by the eternal, the Wisconsin cavalry regiment will come over here and everlastingly gallop over your fellows. The constitution of the United States and the Declaration of Independence, are on my side. In civil life a man's house is his castle. In the army a man's boots is his castle. Give me my boots, sir, or the blood of the slain will rest on your heads.”
The colonel was half mad and half pleased. He tapped his forehead with his fore-finger, and looked at his officers in a manner that showed he believed my head was wrong, but he said kindly:
“My man, you go oud and sit under a tree, in the shade, and I vill hafe your poots found if they are in my rechiment,” and I went out. I heard the colonel say to one of his officers, “It vas too pad dot two good glasses of beer should be spoiled, giving them to dot grazy solcher. Ve must be more careful mit de beer.”
Pretty soon an officer came out and asked me how the boots were taken, and I gave him all the information I had, and he sent men all around the regiment, and in an hour or so the boots were brought to me, the man who stole them was arrested, the officers apologized to me, and I went back to my regiment in triumph, with my boots under my arms. The incident got noised around among the other regiments, and for months after that, when the colonel of the New Jersey cavalry rode by another regiment, the boys would yell out, “Boots, boots,” or when a company or squad of the New Jersey fellows would pass along, it was “Look out for your boots! The shoemakers are coming.” For stealing that one pair of boots, by one man, a whole regiment got a reputation for stealing that hung to it a long time. Ten years afterward I was connected with a New York daily paper, and one evening I was detailed to go to a New Jersey city to report the commencement exercises of a college. In the programme of exercises I noticed that a man of the same name of that of the New Jersey colonel, was one of the college professors, and I wondered if he was the same man. During the evening he put in an appearance on the stage, and I could see that he was the colonel who had given me the beer, and caused my boots to be returned to me. After the exercises of the evening, the New York newspaper men were invited to partake of a collation in the apartments of the college officials, and the professors were introduced to the newspaper men. When my turn came to be introduced, and the old colonel stood before me, I said:
“General, you were in the army, were you not?”
“Yezzer!” said the old man. “I am broud to say dot I fought for my adopted country. But vy do you ask?”
“We have met before. I, too, was a soldier. I was at your headquarters once, on a very important mission. I was entertained, sir, in your tent, permitted, to partake of the good, things you had, and sent away happy.
“Vell, you dond't say so,” said the old man, as he pressed my hand warmly. “Vere vas dis dat you were my guest, and vot vas de important message?” and he smiled all over his face at the prospect of hearing something about old times.