low:

'We have in our company a number of Germans--brave and 'bully' soldiers
all who know better how to handle the arms than the tongue of the land
of their adoption; and their staggers at the language furnish us much
amusement. I know that they are sensitive on the subject, and ought not
to be laughed at; but as they probably will not see this, or if they do,
will have forgotten the circumstance, I offer for the 'gossip' the
following fair specimen. On the day we crossed the Mississippi and
captured the rebels, who had adopted the skedaddling policy of the
Fleet-Footed Villain Floyd, we were drawn up in line of battle three
times, and three times ye rebs right-faced and 'moseyed.' The last time
it was just at dusk, and we were standing in the edge of an opening,
expecting to be opened upon by artillery from the other side, which it
was too dark for us to see distinctly. As we were not fired upon, a
party was sent forward to reconnoitre, and returned with the
intelligence that they had again evacuated. On learning this, one of our
fellows, brief in stature, but of prodigious red beard, spluttered
through his moustache: 'Der tam successionish! dey left vor _un-parts
known_! Donner-wetter!!'

Here is another of DICK'S, which dates from the days 'before
Corinth'--for he was one of those to whom it was _licet adire
Corinthum_:

'Let me tell you a 'goak' that General Pope got off on us, and which we
take as quite a compliment. Our colonel commanding brigade asked
permission to take two days' rations, as we were going out to 'clean
out' a rebel force that was in a swamp, keeping our men from repairing
the road and building a bridge for the passage of artillery, and he
didn't know how long we would have to be gone. 'My God! Colonel,' said
General Pope, 'when you take one day's rations, you are gone four. If I
let you take two, I wouldn't see you again this side of Memphis.'

* * * * *

We are indebted to a brother of the press for the following jotting
down:

Our magazine contemporaries, who appear like Neptune among the Tritons,
_i. e._, with the Sea Sons, are sometimes funnily miscomprehended. Thus,
the publishers of the Methodist _Quarterly Review_ say that a brother
writes to them complaining that he has not received the February,
March, and May numbers of the Review!

About as touching was the complaint of another 'Constant Reader,' who
wrote to the editor of similar quadrennial, c