n?"

"Oh, yes, both did; but the Lieutenant-Colonel was told by the
President, that if General Burnside were to order the President to make
a requisition in dog-days for old Spartan metal helmets for his
Regiment, he would make the requisition.

"Said the Colonel, 'the President of the United States is by the
Regulations empowered to prescribe the uniform.'

"'That,' said the President, 'General Burnside must judge of. I must
execute the order, however unreasonable it may seem, first, and question
it afterwards.'

"'Suppose the General would order you to black his boots; or,' said the
Colonel, thinking that a little too strongly put; 'suppose that you were
second in command of a battery lying near a peaceful and loyal town, and
your superior, drunk or otherwise, would order you to shell it, would
you obey the order, and question it after having murdered half the
women and children of the place?' To which questions, however, the Court
gave the go-by, remarking simply, that they did not suppose that the
Colonel had any criminal intentions in disobeying the order. So, really,
it is narrowed down to the disobedience of, to say the least, a most
uncalled for order."

"And faithful, well intentioned officers are, for what is at most but an
honest blunder, treated like felons," said one.

"From their lively and confident manner," said Bill, "I believe that
they have assurances from Washington that all will be right. There is no
telling how long the Lieutenant-Colonel will last under this
confinement, however. He has failed greatly, and although so weak as to
be unable to walk alone, the General insists upon the guards being upon
either side whenever he has occasion to leave the tent. Even the sinks
were dug at over one hundred yards distance from the Sibley. And the
tent itself is located in such a manner that old Pigey can at all times
have his vengeance gratified by a full view of it, the three guards
about it, and my assisting the Lieutenant-Colonel from time to time. But
the guards esteem, and we all esteem the officers inside the Sibley more
than the General, who abuses his power in his marquee. Letters and
newspapers come crawling under the canvas. Roast partridges, squirrels,
apples, and delicacies that officers and men deny themselves of, find
their way inside, and while my name is Bill Gladdon they shan't suffer
through any lack upon my part, and I know that this is the opinion of
all of us."

"You all recoll