"Our troops block up the roads, I suppose."
"We could march in the fields," rejoined the anxious private, "by the road-side; they are open and firm."
"We'll see, Harry, in a day or two, what it all amounts to. May be the 'Anaconda' that is to smash out the rebellion, is making another turn, or 'taking in a reef,' as the Colonel says."
"Well," rejoined the Private, "I have endeavored to book myself up, as far as my advantages would allow, in our army movements; and the nearest approach to anything like an anaconda, that I can see or hear of, is that infernal Red-tape worm that is strangling the soul out of the army. What inexcusable nonsense to attempt to apply to an immense army in time of war, such as we have now in the field, the needless, petty pigeon-hole details that regulated ten thousand men on a peace establishment. And to carry them out, look how many valuable officers, or officers who ought to be valuable, from the expense Uncle Sam has been at to give them educational advantages, are doing clerkly duty—that civilians, our business men, our accountants, could as well, if not better, attend to—in the offices of the Departments at Washington, in the Commissary and Quarter-Master's Departments,—handling quills and cheese-knives instead of swords, and never giving
'the villainous smell of saltpetre' the slightest chance 'to come betwixt the wind and their nobility.'"
Harry, at the time of his volunteering was an associate editor of a well established and ably conducted country newspaper. He had thrown himself with successful energy into the formation of the regiment to which he belonged. A prominent position was proffered him, but he sturdily refused any place but the ranks, alleging that he had never drilled a day in his life, and particularly insisting that those who had seen service and were somewhat skilled in the tactics, although many of them were far his inferiors in intelligence, should occupy the offices. From his gentlemanly deportment and ability he was on familiar terms with the officers, and popular among the men. Withal, he was a finely formed, soldierly-looking man. In the early part of his service he was reserved in his comments upon the conduct of the war, and considered, as he was in fact, conservative,—setting the best possible example of taciturnity, subordinate to the wisdom of his superiors.
"Harry, you have been detailed as a clerk about Brigade Head Quarters," said the Orderly Sergeant of his company, one morning, after he had been in service about two months.
Harry did not like the separation from his Company in the least, but notwithstanding, quietly reported for duty. Several days of desk drudgery, most laborious to one fresh from out-door exercise, had passed, when one morning about eight o'clock, a conceited coxcomb of an aid, in slippers, entered the office-tent, and holding a pair of muddy boots up, with an air of matter-of-course authority—ordered Harry to blacken them, telling him at the same time,
in a milder and lower tone, that black Jim the cook had the brush and blackening.
"What, sir?" said Harry, rising like a rocket, his Saxon blood mounting to the very roots of his red hair.