(Whisper.) "Pitch in, boys! Pitch in, boys!"
The sutler's tent was often a favorite lounging place with the officers. One evening early a party of about a dozen officers were seated on boxes and barrels in the sutler's establishment. All of them wanted cigars, but no one liked to call for them, for cigars were so dear that no one cared about footing the bill for the whole party, and yet could not be so impolite as to call for one for himself alone. As they sat there with the flaps of the tent thrown back, they could see quite across the camp to the colonel's quarters beyond.
"Now, boys," said Captain K——, "I see the chaplain coming down Company C street, and I think he is coming here; and if he does come here we'll have some fun at his expense. We all want cigars, and we might as well confess what is an open secret, that none of us dares to call for a cigar for himself alone, nor feels like footing the bill for the whole party. Well, let the sutler set out a few boxes of cigars on the counter, so as to have them handy when they are needed, and you follow my lead, and we'll see whether we can't somehow or other make the chaplain yonder pay the reckoning."
The chaplain in question, be it remembered, made some pretension to literature, and considered himself quite an authority in camp on all questions pertaining to orthography, etymology, syntax, and prosody; and presumed to be an umpire in all matters which might from time to time come into discussion in the realm of letters. So, when he came into the sutler's tent, Captain K—— saluted him with,—
"Good evening, Chaplain; you're just the very man we want to see. We've been having a little discussion here, and as we saw you coming we thought we'd submit the question to you for decision."
"Well, gentlemen," said the chaplain, with a smile of gratification, "I shall be only too happy to render you what poor assistance I can. May I inquire what may be the question under discussion?"
"It is but a small thing," replied the captain; "you might, I suppose, call it more a matter of taste than anything else. It concerns a question of emphasis, or rather, perhaps, of inflection, and it is this: Would you say, 'Gentlemen, will you have a cigár?' or 'Gentlemen, will you have a cigàr?'"
Pushing his hat forward as he thoughtfully scratched his head, the chaplain, after a pause, responded,—
"Well, there don't seem to be much difference between the two. But, on consideration, I believe I would say, 'Gentlemen, will you have a cigár?'"
"Certainly!" exclaimed they all, in full and hearty chorus, as they rushed up to the counter in a body and each took a handful of cigars with a "Thank you, Chaplain," leaving their bewildered literary umpire to pay the bill,—which, for the credit of his cloth, I believe he did.