his wounded breast, I said,

"Your talisman didn't save you, did it?"

"Well, I reckon it did, marm, for that shot would a gone a couple a
inches deeper but for my old mammy's camphor bag," answered the
cheerful philosopher.

Another, with a gun-shot wound through the cheek, asked for a
looking-glass, and when I brought one, regarded his swollen face with a
dolorous expression, as he muttered--

"I vow to gosh, that's too bad! I warn't a bad looking chap before, and
now I'm done for; won't there be a thunderin' scar? and what on earth
will Josephine Skinner say?"

He looked up at me with his one eye so appealingly, that I controlled
my risibles, and assured him that if Josephine was a girl of sense, she
would admire the honorable scar, as a lasting proof that he had faced
the enemy, for all women thought a wound the best decoration a brave
soldier could wear. I hope Miss Skinner verified the good opinion I so
rashly expressed of her, but I shall never know.

The next scrubbee was a nice looking lad, with a curly brown mane, and
a budding trace of gingerbread over the lip, which he called his beard,
and defended stoutly, when the barber jocosely suggested its
immolation. He lay on a bed, with one leg gone, and the right arm so
shattered that it must evidently follow: yet the little Sergeant was as
merry as if his afflictions were not worth lamenting over; and when a
drop or two of salt water mingled with my suds at the sight of this
strong young body, so marred and maimed, the boy looked up, with a
brave smile, though there was a little quiver of the lips, as he said,

"Now don't you fret yourself about me, miss; I'm first rate here, for
it's nuts to lie still on this bed, after knocking about in those
confounded ambulances, that shake what there is left of a fellow to
jelly. I never was in one of these places before, and think this
cleaning up a jolly thing for us, though I'm afraid it isn't for you
ladies."

"Is this your first battle, Sergeant?"

"No, miss; I've been in six scrimmages, and never got a scratch till
this last one; but it's done the business pretty thoroughly for me, I
should say. Lord! what a scramble there'll be for arms and legs, when
we old boys come out of our graves, on the Judgment Day: wonder if we
shall get our own again? If we do, my leg will have to tramp from
Fredericksburg, my arm from here, I suppose, and meet my body, wherever
it may be."

The fancy seemed to tickle him migh