If old Rosecranz was only here," sang out a Captain, who had been
itching for his say, and who had seen service in Western Virginia, "he
wouldn't let them pull their pantaloons and shirts off and swim across,
or wade it as if they were going out a bobbing for eels. When I was in
Western Virginia----"

"If fighting old Joe Hooker could only take his saddle to-day," chimed
in an enthusiastic company officer, completely cutting off the Captain,
"he'd go in on his own hook."

"And it would be," sang out a beardless and thoughtless Lieutenant--

"Old Joe, kicking up ahind and afore
And the Butternuts a caving in, around old Joe."

The apt old song might have given the Lieutenant a little credit at any
other time, but the matter in hand was too provokingly serious. Coffee
and crackers were announced, the field officers commenced their meal in
silence, and the company officers returned to their respective quarters.

The troops rested on their arms all that afternoon, at times lounging
close to the stacks. Upon the face of every reflecting officer and
private, deep mortification was depicted. It did not compare, however,
with the chagrin manifested by the Volunteer Regiments who had been
engaged in the fight, and whose thinned ranks and comrades lost made
them closely calculate consequences. Not last among the reflecting class
was our little Irish corporal.

"Gineral," said he, advancing cap in hand, to our always accessible
Brigadier, as he sat leisurely upon his bay--"Gineral! will you permit a
corporal, and an Irishman at that, to spake a word to ye?"

"Certainly, corporal!" the fine open countenance of the General relaxing
into a smile.

"Gineral! didn't we beat the Rebs yesterday?"

"So they say, corporal."

"Don't the river surround them, and can they cross at more than one
place, and that a bad one, as an ould woman whose pig I saved to-day
tould me?"

"The river is on their three sides, and they have only one ford, and
that a bad one, corporal."

"Thin why the Divil don't we charge?"

"Corporal!" said the General, laughing, "I am not in command of the
army, and can't say."

"Bad luck to our stars that ye aren't, Gineral! there would be somebody
hurt to-day thin, and it would be the bluidy Butthernuts, I'm thinking."
The corporal gave this ready compliment as only an Irishman can, and
withdrew.

At dusk orders were received for the men to sleep by their arms. But
there was no sleep