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neighborhood.
As to his tongs, a private, of prospective views, picked them up sometime last summer, and had carried them, ever since, in waggon!
For arras he had artillery horse-blankets.
The Sleeper is now more content, having his battery full, new sergeants appointed, and a prospect of officers.
His only grief is that with three years service and many battles he is only a captain.
You see Massachusetts has not her batteries in a regiment and can't have field officers.
So Sleeper's only hope is a brevet.
November 13, 1864
We had a Lieutenant-Colonel C----, a Britisher, up for a visit; he is commander of the forces in that tropical climate of New Brunswick.
In aspect Colonel C----was not striking; he had done injustice to what good looks he had by a singularly shapeless suit of city clothing, which I judge must have been purchased ready made from a village tailor in New Brunswick.
He had a sort of soft cloth hat, an overcoat of a grey-rhubarb tint and trousers which once might have had a pure color, but seemed to have become doubtful by hanging in the sun outside a shop.
I don't think the gallant Lieutenant-Colonel was much interested in matters military.
Perhaps he had read out, perhaps he had no natural taste that way, or perhaps he felt cold and uncomfortable.
At any rate he looked bored, and his only military remark did not indicate deep reflection.
“This,” said I, “is what we call a corduroy road.”
“Oh! ah! Indeed; yes, well, it's very well now, you know, but what will you do when it comes wet weather?”
I was too much overcome at this putting the cart before the horse, to inform him that the corduroy was built for no other purpose than for wet weather.
After this I confined myself to considerations of the state of health of the Hon. Mr. Yorke (he who 