of
fun, a person any lady might be proud to meet and talk with, but here I
was expected to do something, for thirteen dollars a month, to put down
the rebellion, which there was not money enough in the whole state
of Wisconsin to hire me to do. Was it such a crime to carry a little
quinine to a sick friend? Suppose a rebel was sick with ague, and I had
quinine, would I see him shake himself out of his boots and not give him
medicine? No, I would divide my last quinine powder with him. So would
any soldier. If it was not treason to give one rebel a quinine powder,
when he was sick, why should it be treason to take along enough for
a whole lot of sick rebels? Did our government want to put down the
rebellion by keeping medicines away from a sick enemy? Were we to gloat
over the number of rebels who died of disease, that we could save by
sending them medicines? It seemed to me, if I was in command of the
army, instead of arresting women for carrying medicine to their sick
brothers, I would load up a wagon with medicine and send it to them,
and say, "Here, you fellows, fire this quinine down your necks, and get
well, and then if you want to fight any more, come out on the field and
we will give you the best turn in the wheel-house." It seemed to me that
would be the way to win the enemy over, and that they would be thankful,
take the medicine, get well, and then say, "Boys, these Yankees are
pretty good fellows after all. Let's quit fighting, and call it quits."
But I was not running the war, and had got to obey orders, if I broke
heartstrings and corset strings. I would have given anything to have
got out of the job. The idea of arresting a woman and searching her,
and seeing her cry, and have her think me a hard-hearted wretch, was
revolting, and I found myself wishing she would take some other road.
May be she looked like somebody that I knew at home, and may be she had
a big brother in the Confederate army who would look me up after the war
and everlastingly maul the life out of me for insulting his sister. I
made up my mind if anything of that kind happened I would tell on the
general and the colonel, and get them whipped, too.

"Phat the divil is it coming," said the Irishman. "Corporal of the
guaod, the quane of all the South is coming down the road, riding a high
stepper. Phat will I do, I dunno?"

"Stop her," I yelled with my teeth chattering.

"Halt right fhere yez are," said the Irishman, with a look on his fac