ot being built very high, is apt to smoke when the wind
is in a certain direction; and when that happens it is hardly possible
to stay inside. So we used to build the chimneys of some tents on the
east side, and those of others on the west, and thus some of the tents
were always comfortable. I have seen Baby's mother running in a hard
rain, with little Red-Riding-Hood in her arms, to take refuge with the
Adjutant's wife, when every other abode was full of smoke; and I must
admit that there were one or two windy days that season when nobody
could really keep warm, and Annie had to remain ignominiously in her
cradle, with as many clothes on as possible, for almost the whole time.

The Quartermaster's tent was very attractive to us in the evening. I
remember that once, on passing near it after nightfall, I heard our
Major's fine voice singing Methodist hymns within, and Mrs. C.'s sweet
tones chiming in. So I peeped through the outer door. The fire was
burning very pleasantly in the inner tent, and the scrap of new red
carpet made the floor look quite magnificent. The Major sat on a box,
our surgeon on a stool; "Q. M." and his wife, and the Adjutant's wife,
and one of the captains, were all sitting on the bed, singing as well as
they knew how; and the baby was under the bed. Baby had retired for the
night, was overshadowed, suppressed, sat upon; the singing went on, and
she had wandered away into her own land of dreams, nearer to heaven,
perhaps, than any pitch their voices could attain. I went in, and joined
the party. Presently the music stopped, and another officer was sent
for, to sing some particular song. At this pause the invisible innocent
waked a little, and began to cluck and coo.

"It's the kitten," exclaimed somebody.

"It's my baby!" exclaimed Mrs. C. triumphantly, in that tone of
unfailing personal pride which belongs to young mothers.

The people all got up from the bed for a moment, while Annie was pulled
from beneath, wide awake and placid as usual; and she sat in one lap or
another during the rest of the concert, sometimes winking at the candle,
but usually listening to the songs, with a calm and critical expression,
as if she could make as much noise as any of them, whenever she saw
fit to try. Not a sound did she make, however, except one little soft
sneeze, which led to an immediate flood-tide of red shawl, covering
every part of her but the forehead. But I soon hinted that the concert
had better be