in the cold and dark,
tired, hungry, and sleepy, waiting while our engineers patched a break
in the railroad, Bill, with a view, I reckon, to cheering us both up,
delivered himself in this wise: "This is a little tough, Stillwell, but
just think of that bully dinner we'll have when we get to Murfreesboro!
You've your can of condensed milk, and I've mine of lobsters; we'll
have coffee with milk in it, and then, with some hardtack, we'll have a
spread that will make up for this all right." But, alas!

"The best laid schemes o' mice and men
Gang aft a-gley."

My precious condensed milk, and the crustaceans aforesaid of Bill's,
doubtless went glimmering down the alimentary canal of some long-haired
Texan, to his great satisfaction. My wish at the time was that the
darned lobsters might make the fellow sick,--which they probably did.
So Bill and I were now at the burning train, looking for something to
take the place of our captured Belshazzar banquet. We found a car that
was loaded with pickled pork in barrels, and getting a fence rail, we
finally succeeded, after some peril and much difficulty, in prying off
one of the barrels, and it fell to the ground, bursting open as it did
so, and scattering the blazing pieces of pork all around. We each got a
portion, and then sat down on a big rock, and proceeded to devour our
respective chunks without further ceremony. The outside of the meat was
burned to a coal, but we were hungry, all of it tasted mighty sweet,
and we gnawed it just like dogs. At the close of the repast, I took a
look at Bill. His face was as black as tar from contact with the burnt
pork, and in other respects his "tout ensemble" "left much to be
desired." I thought if I looked as depraved as Bill certainly did it
would be advisable to avoid any pocket looking-glass until after a
thorough facial ablution with soft water and plenty of soap. Dinner
over, we were soon ready for the march to camp, (there being no dishes
to wash,) and started down the railroad track for Murfreesboro. We took
our time, and didn't reach camp till about sundown. We were the last
arrivals of Co. D, and, as there were all sorts of rumors afloat, we
afterwards learned that Capt. Keeley had become quite anxious about us.
As we turned down our company street I saw the Captain standing in
front of his tent, looking in our direction. After the affairs of the
4th and the 7th, I had taken much satisfaction, in speaking to him of
th