We have lots of fun with the fellows who come creeping into the barracks late at night or early in the morning. All sorts of traps are set, and some one of them generally gets the bird. Sometimes it is the old trick of tinware over the door, which is bound to rouse the whole camp, no matter how carefully the door is opened; or a gun box set on end in the aisle; or a rope stretched across it.
Just to bring myself to a realization of how long the three years ahead ought to seem, I have been measuring back to events that transpired three years ago. Three years seems a long time looking into the future, and yet many things that took place three years ago do not seem so very far away. In the depot at Manchester I met Ike Sawyer, who has just got back from sea. I asked him how long he had been gone this time, and he said, “Over three years.” I was surprised that it was so long, and hope the coming three will sort of shorten up in the same way.
Our company is now stocking up on mascots. The latest additions are a splendid Newfoundland dog and a pretty maltese cat.
Nich. Biglin is going up tomorrow to bid good bye to a large and enthusiastic circle of female admirers. Just now he and Dan Mix are engaged in an animated dispute as to whether a man will get tight on gin sweetened with sugar sooner than if sweetened with molasses, and “Heenan” proposes that they go out and experiment.
IX
Camp Constitution, Portsmouth, June 12, 1861.
STILL in Portsmouth, in spite of all prophecies, augurs and omens. The excuse now is that the baggage wagons and some other camp equipage are not ready. The time now set is next Monday, but I am not counting on going before Wednesday, as a precaution against being disappointed. All our baggage wagons, harnesses, horses, and other field stuff are in Concord, and it is more than probable that we shall go there to get it, and thence to New York through Manchester. I hope so, as it will give me a chance to see you once more just for a moment.
I was somewhat surprised to hear that Frank had gone to Washington. I wish he was going with this regiment; but I shall have as good care as I could wish for if I am sick, as my uncle, Dr. John, is going out with us in the hospital department. My aunt wrote me that if the doctor went she should put on the breeches and go too.
And, by the way, I am not sure that you would recognize me now that I have followed the prevailing fashion and had my flowing locks shaved off close to my scalp.