when I brought one, regarded his swollen face with a dolorous expression, as he muttered-
I vow to gosh, that's too bad I warn't a bad looking chap before, and now I'm done for; won't there be a thunderin‘ scar?
and what on earth will Josephine Skinner say?
He looked up at me with his one eye so appealingly, that I controlled my risibles, and assured him that if Josephine was a girl of sense, she would admire the honorable scar, as a lasting proof that he had faced the enemy, for all women thought a wound the best decoration a brave soldier could wear.
I hope Miss Skinner verified the good opinion I so rashly expressed of her, but I shall never know.
The next scrubbee was a nice-looking lad, with a curly brown mane, honest blue eyes, and a merry mouth.
He lay on a bed, with one leg gone, and the right arm so shattered that it must evidently follow: yet the little sergeant was as merry as if his afflictions were not worth lamenting over; and when a drop or two of salt w