ing my knowledge of the poets.
West Virginia hogs are the longest, lankest, boniest animals in creation.
I am reminded of this by that broth of an Irish lad, Conway, who says, in substance, and with a broad Celtic accent, that their noses have to be sharpened every morning to enable them to pick a living among the rocks.
men and forty rifled cannon!
Hostler, you d-d scoundrel, why do n't you wipe Jerome's nose?
Jerome is the Colonel's horse, known in camp as the White Bull.
Conway, who has been detailed to attend to the Colonel's horses, is almost as good a speech-maker as the Colonel.
This, in brief, is Conway's address to the White Bull Conway's address to the White Bull : --Stand still there, now, or I'll make yer stand still.
Hold up yer head there, now, or I'll make yer hold it up. Keep quiet; what the h-ll yer ‘bout there, now?
do you want me to hit you a lick over the snoot, now-do you?
Are you a inviten‘ me to pound you over the head with a sawlog?
D-n yer ugly pictures, whoa!
hope and fear, happiness and despair.
Three of us, however, have some experience in wedded life, and the gallant Adjutant is reasonably confident that he will obtain further knowledge on the subject if this cruel war ever comes to an end and his sweetheart survives.
The paymaster has been busy.
The boys are very bitter against the sutler, realizing, for the first time, that sutler's chips cost money, and that they have wasted on jimcracks too much of their hard earnings.
Conway has taken a solemn Trish oath that the sutler shall never get another cent of him. But these are like the half repentant, but resultless, mutterings of the confirmed drunkard.
The new leaf proposed to be turned over is never turned.
Am told that some of the boys lost in gambling every farthing of their money half an hour after receiving it from the paymaster.
An Indiana soldier threw a bombshell into the fire to-day, and three men were seriously wounded by the explosio
een is progressing with increased vigor.
The music is excellent.
At this moment the gentlemen are going to the right; now they promenade all; in a minute more the ladies will be in the center, and four hands round.
That broth of an Irish boy, Conway, wears a rooster's feather in his cap, and has for a partner a soldier twice as big as himself, whom he calls Susan.
As they swing Conway yells at the top of his voice: Come round, old gal!
General Mitchell returned from NashvillConway yells at the top of his voice: Come round, old gal!
General Mitchell returned from Nashville on a hand-car.
This is a pleasant Sunday.
The sun shines, the birds sing, and the air stirs pleasantly.
The colored people of Murfreesboro pour out in great numbers on Sunday evenings to witness dress parade, some of them in excellent holiday attire.
The women sport flounces and the men canes.
Many are nearly white, and all slaves.
Murfreesboro is an aristocratic town.
Many of the citizens have as fine carriages as are to be seen in Cincinnati or Washington.