... of some lively young lieutenant flash through the struggling mass. My young Lieutenant, Bigelow, after looking on for a while, was swept away by the charms of the prettiest of the sergeants, named Fairweather , and I last saw him winding through the Portland fancy with her. Up aloft, on all the cross-timbers of the high roof, along the upper row of bunks, are perched the spectators, all masculine; the dim...