in stately triumph, some of the men who had been boisterous against him,
approached by way of excusing their conduct, and said that now they were
perfectly satisfied. "What you know!" was his gruff reply, "you not know
a man's heart from a pig's."

Many like incidents might be told--but we must not leave these Captains
standing too long at the door of the tent; with the production of the
light in they came, with the remark that they had brought hospital
supplies. In the meantime several officers, field and company, attracted
by the noise and whiskey; came in from regimental head-quarters.

"Must see if goot," and the Doctor applied the bottle to his lips; it
was not a favorite drink of his, and tasted badly in lieu of Rhine wine
or lager.

"May be goot whiskey."

"Let practical whiskey drinkers have a chance," said two or three at
once, and the bottle went its round.

The test was not considered satisfactory until another and another had
been emptied.

The increasing confusion aroused the Chaplain, who hitherto had been
snugly ensconced beneath his blankets in the corner opposite the Doctor.

"Here, Chaplain, your opinion, and don't let us hear anything about
putting the bottle to your neighbor's lips," said a rough voice in the
crowd. The Chaplain politely declined, with the remark that they
appeared too anxious to put the bottle to their own lips to require any
assistance from their neighbors.

"Chaplain not spiritually minded," muttered the Doctor, "so far but
three preaches, and every preach cost government much as sixty tollar."
The calculation at the Chaplain's expense, amused the crowd, and annoyed
the Chaplain, who resumed his blankets.

"When I was in Western Virginny, under Rosecrans,"--

"The old start and good for a yarn," said an officer.

"Good for facts," replied the Chief of the Detail.

"Never mind, Captain, we'll take it as fact," said the Adjutant.

"We had a chaplain that was a chaplain in every sense of the word."

"Did he drink and swear?" inquired a member of the Detail.

"On long marches and in fights he had a canteen filled with what he
called chaplain's cordial, about one part whiskey and three water. I
tasted it, but with little comfort. One day, a member of Rosy's staff
seeing him pulling at it, asked for it, and after a strong pull, told
the chaplain that he was weak in spiritual things. 'Blessed are the poor
in spirit,' was the quick answer of the chaplain. As to swearing,