iates, with the Indians in the early history of the country.

"This certainly seems an ideal pastoral land--a place where one would
naturally locate a charming idyl or bucolic love-story!" he said one
evening, to Surgeon Paul Denslow, after descanting at length upon the
beauties of the country which they were "redeeming" from the hands of
the Rebels.

"Yes," answered Dr. Denslow, "and it's as dull and sleepy and
non-progressive as all those places are where they locate what you call
your idyls and pastorals! These people haven't got an idea belonging
to this century, nor do they want one. They know how to raise handsome
girls, distil good whisky, and breed fast horses. This they esteem the
end of all human knowledge and understanding. Anything more is to them
vanity and useless vexation of spirit."

At last the regiment halted under the grand old beeches and hickories of
the famous Camp Dick Robinson, in the heart of the Blue Grass Region.
In this most picturesque part of the lovely Kentucky River Valley they
spent the bright days of October very delightfully.

Nature is as kindly and gracious in Central Kentucky as in any part of
the globe upon which her sun shines, and she seemed to be on her best
behavior, that she might duly impress the Northern visitors.

The orchards were loaded with fruit, and the forest trees showered nuts
upon the ground. In every field were groups of persimmon trees, their
branches bending under a burden of luscious fruit, which the frost had
coated with sheeny purple outside, and made sweeter than fine wine
within. Over all bent softly brilliant skies, and the bland, bracing air
was charged with the electricity of life and happiness.

It was the very poetry of soldiering, and Harry began to forget the
miseries of life in a Camp of Instruction, and to believe that there was
much to be enjoyed, even in the life of an enlisted man.

"This here air or the apple-jack seems to have a wonderfully improving
effect on Jake Alspaugh's chronic rheumatics," sneered Abe Bolton.

It was a sunny afternoon. Bolton and Kent Edwards were just ouside
of the camp lines, in the shade of a grand old black walnut, and had
re-seated themselves to finish devouring a bucketful of lush persimmons,
after having reluctantly risen from that delightful occupation to salute
Lieutenant Alspaugh, as he passed outward in imposing blue and gold
stalwarthood.

"I've been remarking that myself," said Kent, taking out a h