eathing spell, begins again worse than ever, when our
melancholy friend, Smallweed, having signed the clothing receipt
doubtfully, presently announces, with the air of an injured martyr, that
he supposes it's all right, but he can't find all the things he signed
for. Then everybody frantically examines into this new difficulty, and
discovers that they signed for everything, and got nothing. Poor Captain
Pipes scratches his head perplexedly, and smokes in anxious puffs.
Sergeant Files hustles everybody about, exposes several shamefaced
impostors, who have more than everything, and by the timely announcement
that Smallweed's deficiency consists of two overcoat straps, which are
no longer used in the service, restores comparative quiet. Smallweed,
however, retires up and shakes his head dubiously, remarking in an
undertone, to a weak-eyed young man, who stands in mortal awe of him,
that it may be all right, but he don't see it.

Drills, drills, drills! For the next week we have nothing but
drills--except guard duty. Squad drills, company drills, drills in the
facings, drills under arms, drills in the morning, noonday drills,
drills at night. Besides these, the office all day, and guard duty every
third night. Talk about the patriotic days of '76! you think--was there
ever anything like this? In less than a week everybody is played out;
everybody, that is, except a lymphatic, dull-visaged backwoodsman, named
Tetter, who drags through everything so slowly and heavily, that he
can't get tired, and an old Polish cavalryman, named Hrsthzschnoffski,
or something of the kind, but naturally called Snuffsky, who knows
neither enthusiasm nor fatigue, who never volunteers for a duty nor ever
begs off from it. Growls arise. Men pale about the cheeks, beady in the
forehead, and dark under the eyes, begin to collect in knotlets, and
talk over the situation. 'We enlisted to fight,' the bolder spirits
hint; 'we came to fight, not to drill and guard armories. Why don't they
take us out and let us whip the enemy, and go back to our business?' But
presently comes

_The 19th of April._ No drill to-night. What is that? A fight in
Baltimore? Nonsense! True though, for all that, as history will vouch.
Six regiments of Massachusetts troops have been attacked in Baltimore by
the 'Plugs,' and cut to pieces. Where was the 'Seventh!' we wonder,
educated in the creed of its invincibility and omnipresence. The Seventh
was there too, and has been massa