outhern soldiers, like their Northern opponents, soon found that humor was a safety valve—a diversion from the graver thoughts that, in their lonely hours, lingered around the wife, mother, and children in the distant home. Withal, it was a spontaneous good humor, such as Washington Irving calls the "oil and wine of a merry meeting," where the companionship was contagious and the jokes small, but the jollity was abundant. It might not have been as polished as that of Uncle Toby or Corporal Trim, nor as philosophical as Dickens makes the observations of the elder Mr. Weller and his son "Sam," but it exemplified human nature in the rough, and overflowed harmlessly.

GENERAL HOOKER.

Those who have had occasion to make the comparison have, without doubt, observed salient points of difference between the styles of badinage prevalent in the Northern and Southern armies. Your Southerner was no respecter of persons. He seized on any feature of an individuality that presented a ludicrous side. If a stranger was unusually long or short, or lean or fat, he was sure to be a target for ridicule.

Passing through Frederick in the first Maryland campaign (1862), a good-natured-looking citizen, who evidently had not been able to tie his shoestrings for a number of years, stood on his doorstep watching us as we passed. "Hi, there! Hog-killing time, boys," suddenly astonished his ears, and was the signal for an instant fire of playful chaff. "Aint he swelled powerful?" "Must have swallowed a bass drum." "I say, stranger, buttermilk or corn-fed?" "Does it hurt much?" "What hurt?" ventured the fat man, quizzically. "Why, totin' them rations around with yer all day." In a minute or two the old gentleman, very red in the face, carried his abdominal rotundity into the house, but quickly reappeared with a demijohn in each hand. "Here, boys!" he exclaimed, "wash your mouths out with some of this applejack, and have a bit of mercy on a fat man." It is needless to say that the boys promptly cheered their vote of thanks.

THE OLD JOHN ROSS HOUSE, NEAR RINGGOLD, GA.—MISSIONARY RIDGE ON THE RIGHT.
(From a Government photograph.)

The colonel of a South Carolina regiment, having returned from his furlough with a pair of high top boots—boots were then worth seven or eight hundred dollars—had the temerity to run the gauntlet of a neighboring brigade, and heard comments like these: "I say, mister, better git out'r them smokestacks; know you're in thar 'cause we kin see yer head stickin' out." "Boys, the kern'l 's gone into winter quarters." "What mout be the price o' them nail kags?" etc. An officer wearing noticeably bushy whiskers was unfeelingly invited to "come out from behind that bunch of har! 'Taint no use t' say yer aint in thar, 'cause yer ears is workin' monstrous powerful." It was rarely safe, under these circumstances, to answer with either wit or abuse.

Our soldiers had little respect for what were known as "bombproofs"—the fellows who had easy positions in the rear. On one occasion a smartly dressed young officer belonging to this kindred cantered up to a depot where a regiment of men were awaiting transfer. As soon as they saw him they began whooping: "Oh, my! aint he pooty!" "Say, mister, whar'd ye git that biled shut?" "Does yer grease that har with ham fat, or how?" And so they plied the poor fellow with all manner of questions concerning his age, occupation, religious and political convictions, that were calculated to make a man feel uncomfortable. One feather, however, broke the camel's back. A long, cadaverous specimen of humanity, who had evidently been making a comical survey of the victim—his handsome uniform, and well-polished boots—taking a step or two forward as if to show his intense interest, solemnly drawled out: "Was yer ra-a-ly born so, or did they put yer together by corntract? Strikes me yer must have got yere in a drove or ben picked afore you was ripe." Then somebody suggested that "sich a nice-lookin' rooster ought to git down and scratch for a wurrum"; and amid the laughter that followed, he was glad to put spurs to his horse and gallop out of hearing.