"It's no use," said Billy, looking at them. "Them stockings will do to
put on a sore throat, but won't do for feet. It is humiliating for a
man like me to be without stockings. A man may be bald-headed, and
it's genteel; but to be barefooted, it's ruination. The legs are good,
too," he added, thoughtfully, "but the feet are gone. There is
something about the heels of stockings and the elbows of stove-pipes,
in this world, that is all wrong, Jimmy."

A supply of stockings had come that day, and were just being given
out. A pair of very large ones fell to Billy's lot. Billy held them up
before him.

"Jimmy," said he, "these are pretty bags to give a little fellow like
me. Them stockings was knit for the President, or a young gorilla,
certain!" and he was about to bestow them upon Cradle, when a soldier,
in the opposite predicament, made an exchange. "Them stockings made me
think of the prisoner I scared so the other day," said Billy.

"How's that?" said I.

"He saw a big pair of red leggings, with feet, hanging up before our
tent. He never said a word, till he saw the leggings, and then he
asked me what they were for. 'Them!' said I, 'them's General Banks's
stockings.' He looked scared. 'He's a big man, is General Banks,' said
I, 'but then he ought to be, the way he lives.' 'How?' said he. 'Why,'
said I, 'his regular diet is bricks buttered with mortar.'"

The next day Billy got a present of a pair of stockings from a lady; a
nice, soft pair, with his initials, in red silk, upon them. He was
very happy. "Jimmy," said he, "just look at 'em," and he smoothed them
down with his hand--"marked with my initials, too; 'B,' for my
Christian name, and 'W' for my heathen name. How kind! They came just
in the right time, too; I've got such a sore heel."

Orders came to "fall in." Billy was so overjoyed with his new
stockings he didn't keep the line well.

"Steady, there!" growled the sergeant; "keep your place, and don't be
moving round like the Boston post-office!"

We were soon put upon the double-quick. After a few minutes, Billy
gave a groan.

"What is it, Billy?" said I.

"It's all up with 'em," said he.

I didn't know what he meant, but his face showed something bad had
happened. When we broke ranks and got to the tent, he looked the
picture of despair--shoes in hand, and his heels shining through his
stockings like two crockery door-knobs.

"Them new stockings of yours is breech-loading, aint they, Billy?"
sai