to me, in part to a series of blunders, which had resulted from the fact that there were two persons in the army of the same name and rank, but mainly to those who failed to transmit the order in proper time.
Our large tents have been taken away, and shelter tents substituted.
This evening, when the boys crawled into the latter, they gave utterance, good-humoredly, to every variety of howl, bark, snap, whine, and growl of which the dog is supposed to be capable.
Colonel George Humphreys, Eighty-eighth Indiana, whom I supposed to be a full-blooded Hoosier, tells me he is a Scotchman, and was born in Ayrshire, in the same house in which Robert Burns had birth.
His grandfather, James Humphreys, was the neighbor and companion of the poet.
It was of him he wrote this epitaph, at an ale-house, in the way of pleasantry:
Below these stanes lie Jamie's banes.
O! Death, in my opinion, You ne'er took sic a blither'n bitch Into thy dark dominion.