were hoarse and spiritless.

And he was only our lieutenant! The first sergeant called him such, in
answering a question; and then I noticed the single bar on his collar.
What would the captain be like?

The bugle blew Recall, and it was very welcome. We were marched back to
the company street and dismissed. My rear rank man was one Pickle, a
hardware clerk from a town in central Pennsylvania, who never in his life
saw a big league baseball game, and yet can tell you the names and
records of all the chief players, especially of the Brooklyns, for which
club he is a rooter. He said of the lieutenant: "One of those wiry
wonders, Tireless Thomas of the Training-field. Doesn't he never remember
that we are flesh and blood? Me for my little cot!" Following his
example, more than half of the squad lay down till roused by the news
that our rifles were being served out. So we flocked out in haste to get
what would give us lamed shoulders and tired arms. Being thus roused, I
next went for a swim in the lake, which was stony and cold and altogether
invigorating.

The lieutenant had us out again in the afternoon, us and the guns.
Consequently we were put through the manual of arms until the anticipated
lameness is now a reality, not only of the arms but of the whole body. I
find it is not enough to shift your rifle according to prescribed
motions; it must be snappy, and in cadence. "Like a clock-work," muttered
Pickle in despair. And it is a crime to drop a rifle. Its first
commission roused our lieutenant from his languor. "Who dropped that
piece?" he thundered. Then he outpoured contempt. "There'll be glue on
little Willie's fingers next time, sure," whispered Pickle.

Tired at the end of the day, I yet feel virtuous, having devoted to my
country a pound of my flesh. I write by lantern light in the tent, there
having been no conference tonight on account of rain. Most of the squad
are away, exploring the city; but Corder is already abed and sleeping--
"as insurance," he said to me, explaining his middle-aged caution. I
shall follow him soon. Good-night from

DICK.

Postscript, written Saturday morning at 5.30, waiting for breakfast.

We have in our squad one Randall, a person of recent Yale
extraction--though (having good Yale friends) I don't lay it up against
the college. Yesterday he established his bed in the corporal's place,
which so far the rest of