The camp, more than any other position in life, develops the greatest inconsistencies in poor human nature. The grumbler of the day's march is very frequently
the joker of the bivouac. The worse, at the expense of man's better qualities, are rapidly strengthened, and the least particle of selfishness, however concealed by a generous nature at the period of enlistment, fearfully increases its power with every day of service. The writer remembers well a small, slightly-built, bow-legged fellow, who would murmur without ceasing upon the route, continually torment his officers for privilege to fall out of ranks to adjust his knapsack, fasten a belt, or some such like purpose, who, on the halt, would amuse his comrades for hours in performing gymnastic feats upon out-spread blankets. Another, who at home flourished deservedly under the sobriquet of "Clever Billy," became, in a few brief months of service, the most surly, snappish, and selfish of his mess.
Pipe in mouth, their troubles are puffed away in the gracefully ascending smoke. Many a non-user of the weed envies in moody silence the perfect satisfaction resting upon the features of his comrade thus engaged. Non-users are becoming rare birds in the army. So universal is the habit, that the pipe appears to belong to the equipment, and the tobacco-pouch, suspended from a button-hole of the blouse, is so generally worn that one would suppose it to have been prescribed by the President as part of the uniform.
The crowd gathered about the Head-quarters had largely increased, and while luxuriating upon the straw, time passed merrily. The Colonel, who never let an opportunity to improve the discipline of his command pass unimproved, seized the occasion of the presence of a large number of officers to impress upon them the necessity of greater control of the men upon the march. The easy, open, but orderly route-step of the Regulars was alluded to—their occupying the
road alone, and not spread out and straggling like a drove of cattle. A stranger seeing our Volunteers upon the march would not give them credit for the soldierly qualities they really possess. Curiosity, so rampant in the Yankee, tempts him continually to wander from the ranks to one or other side of the road.
"Well, Colonel," said a tall Lieutenant, "the Regulars look prim and march well, but they have done little fighting, as yet, in this Army of the Potomac."
"You forget the Peninsula," replied the Colonel.
"Oh, there they were caught unexpectedly, and forced into it. In this Corps they are always in reserve; and that's what their officers like,—everything in reserve but pay and promotion. It is rather doubtful whether they will fight."
"Ov coorse they'll fight," said the little Irish Corporal, half rising from his straw on the outskirts of the crowd; "Ov coorse they will. They're nearly all my own countrymen. I know slathers of them; and did you iver in your born days know an Irishman that wouldn't fight, anywhere, any time, and for anything, if he had anybody to fight?"
"And a quart of whiskey in him," interrupts the Adjutant. "As Burns says of the Scotch—