"A good deal more than a great many of you think," continued the Adjutant. "I think I see the dawning of considerable difficulty. The Colonel, you recollect, was compelled to correct our Division-General in some of his commands, to prevent confusion; and the General, although clearly in the wrong, submitted with a bad grace; and then at the last review you all remember how a whiffet chanced to yelp at the heels of the Staff horses, and how the General—it was after three, you recollect, G—d d——d the puppy and its ancestry, particularly its mother, until his Staff tittered behind him, and the Regiments of his command, officers and men, particularly ours, fairly roared. And then, too, when General Burnside saluted the colors, and requested Pigey to ride along, how he started off with his Staff, leaving us all at a 'Present Arms;' and how the quick eye of Old Joe saw the blunder; and how he called the General's attention to it, without effect, until 'Burney' sharply yelled out, 'General, you had better bring your men to a shoulder, sir;' and then, how
the General, amid increased tittering and laughter, rode back, and with a face like scarlet squeaked out—'Division! Shoulder arms!' Now I have heard that the General blames the Field Officers of our Regiment with a good deal of that laughter; and that and this Sutler matter will make him provide a pretext for another Court-martial at an early day."
"Double, double, toil and trouble,"
said the poetical Lieutenant. "Why, the Adjutant talks as if he could see the witches over the pot; certainly—
'No lateness of life gives him mystical lore.'"
"No, but—
'Coming events cast their shadows before.'"
continued the Adjutant, finishing the couplet. "I do not know that any gift of prophecy is given unto me, but I will venture to predict that the pretext will be that very order,—outrageous and unreasonable as it is,—that our Brigadier not only flatly and positively refused to obey before he left, but told his command that it was unlawful and unreasonable, and should not be obeyed."
"What! that dress-coat order," cried the Western Virginia Captain, springing to his feet; "compel a man who has two new blouses, and who belongs to a regiment that came out with blouses and never had dress-coats, to put a dress-coat in his knapsack besides, when his clothing account is almost exhausted, and the campaign only half through. Is that the order you mean? By George, you must think that old Pigey is only going to live and do
business after three o'clock in the afternoon, if you think that he will insist upon that order. Our Brigadier did right to disobey it. Old Rosey would have put any officer in irons, who——"