"Get Corporal Diggs to make a speech."
"Good, good!" cried a number springing to their feet. "The very thing."
It was finally decided to present to Corporal Diggs a written petition to address the members of his company on the question of the day, and enthuse them with his magnificent and stirring eloquence. The Sergeant himself circulated the petition, and had half a hundred names to it in less than fifteen minutes.
Corporal Diggs had just returned from inspecting the guard when the petition was presented to him.
"Well, yes—hem, hem!" began the soldier, orator, and general in embryo, "I have been thinking for some time that I ought to make the boys a speech. They—hem, hem!—should have something of the kind occasionally to keep—to keep their spirits up."
"Well, come right along now," said the Sergeant pointing to where nearly a hundred had gathered around a large elm stump. "They're waiting for you."
Corporal Diggs felt that his star had risen, and with a face full of becoming gravity, which the occasion and his official position demanded, he went toward the place indicated, dragging his long sword after him, much in the same way a small boy does the stick he calls his horse.
The crowd received him with enthusiastic cheers, and Corporal Diggs mounted the stump.
"Hem, hem, Hem!" he began, clearing his throat by way of commencement. "Ladies and gentlemen"—a slight titter in the audience—"I mean fellow citizens, or, perhaps, fellow soldiers or comrades would be more suitable terms for addressing those who are to share my toils and dangers." [Cheers.] "'I come not here to talk,' as one of old said, 'for you know too well the story of our thralldom.' What would the gentlemen have? Is life so dear or peace so sweet that they must be bought with slavery and chains? There are those who cry 'Peace, peace!' but there is no peace! The next gale that sweeps down from the North will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms. [Cheers.] But, my comrades, I—hem, hem!—feel it my imperative duty to tell you that the foe is near at hand, and battle, glorious battle, where 'flame and smoke, and shout and groan, and sabre stroke' fill the air." [Vehement cheering, and Seth Williams trying to kick the bottom out of a camp kettle.]