and very--dirty. Full, baggy, scarlet
trowsers, confined round the waist by the broad, blue band or sash,
bearing the bowie-knife and meeting, at mid-leg, the white gaiter; blue
shirt cut very low and exhibiting the brawny, sunburnt throat; jacket
heavily braided and embroidered, flying loosely off the shoulders, and
the jaunty _fez_, surmounting the whole, made a bright _ensemble_ that
contrasted prettily with the gray and silver of the South Carolinians,
or the rusty brown of the Georgians, who came in crowds to see them
off.

But the use of these uniforms about the grease and dust of Pensacola
camp-fires had left marks that these soldiers considered badges of
honor, not to be removed.

Nor were they purer morally. Graduates of the slums of New Orleans,
their education in villainy was naturally perfect. They had the vaguest
ideas of _meum_ and _tuum_; and small personal difficulties were
usually settled by the convincing argument of a bowie-knife, or brass
knuckle.

Yet they had been brought to a very perfect state of drill and
efficiency. All commands were given in French--the native tongue of
nearly all the officers and most of the men; and, in cases of
insubordination, the former had no hesitancy in a free use of the
revolver. A wonderful peacemaker is your six-shooter.

They might be splendid fellows for a charge on the "Pet Lambs," or on
a--pocket; but, on the whole, were hardly the men one would choose for
partners in any business but a garroting firm, or would desire to have
sleep in the company bedroom.

Their officers we found of a class entirely above them; active, bright,
enthusiastic Frenchmen, with a frank courtesy and soldierly bearing
that were very taking. They occupied the rear car of the train, while
the men filled the forward ones, making the woods ring with their wild
yells, and the roaring chorus of the song of the _Zou-Zou_.

We had crossed the gap at Garland, where the road was yet unfinished,
and were soon at the breakfast house, where we mounted the hill in a
body; leaving our car perfectly empty, save a couple of buglers who
stood on the platform. As I looked back, the elder musician was a most
perfect picture of the _Turco_. He had served in Algiers, and after the
war in Italy brought a bullet in his leg to New Orleans. He was long
past fifty--spare, broad-shouldered and hard as a log of oak. His sharp
features were bronzed to the richest mahogany color, and garnished with
a moustach