this.

There were several "characters" among the recruits in camp, to whom, if I could, I would devote a few pages, as well as to management of the camp and the method of dovetailing a little innocent private business into that of the public, as practiced by some of the little-great men in authority there; but as paper costs 22 cents per pound, I am warned that I must leave out here and condense there, which is not so pleasant after all.

Men were arriving every day in squads of from twenty to fifty, and leaving at intervals in detachments of from 100 to 500, to be distributed among their respective regiments at the seat of war. At length our turn came. It was on a Friday.—Now, Friday, though generally considered by superstitious persons an unlucky day, has often proved a lucky one for me. I was born on Friday; was married on Friday; and now I started to go to the war on Friday. I shouldn't wonder if on some Friday in the future I would die—and that will be another great event in my life. Well, we started on a Friday afternoon, and taking the cars at the Old Colony depot in Boston and the boat at Fall River, found ourselves next morning in the city of New York. We were quartered in barracks on White street, furnished with filthy beds, miserable "grub," and allowed free range of the city. A lieutenant (from Haverhill, I believe) had charge of our squad, which numbered about a hundred, and some of his enthusiastic admirers in the crowd presented him with a sword. There was, of course, a presentation speech, enthusiastic, pathetic, patriotic and warlike, and a response suitable and sentimental. It made a good impression on me at the time; but then I had yet to learn the difference between what an Indian would call "talk fight" and "fightem."

On the following Monday afternoon, with all "traps" snugly bestowed and knapsacks strapped on, we were drawn up in front of the barracks, when the lieutenant stepped out in front and proposed three cheers for the barrack-master, which were given; but I did not join in, even in dumb show, having too much conscientiousness to outrage the finer feelings of my stomach by cheering for an individual who had cheated and abused it. We then took up our line of march for the transport, and went along almost unnoticed save by a few patriotic individuals who bade us a fervent God-speed and wished that good-fortune might attend us wherever we went; but the great mass seemed hardened to the sight of their fellow men going away from amongst them to explore unknown fields of danger, and to purchase with their life's blood a continuance and perpetuity of that nationality which has made the United States of America the first among nations. As these thoughts entered my mind, they suggested the picture of the hundreds of thousands of devoted men who passed through this great city, with all their hardest and most bitter experiences—hardships and dangers, sickness and death—before them, many, very many of them to return again no more; and I began to realize that, though still in a land of peace and plenty, a few days would bring me out upon far different scenes and into circumstances that would require a bold heart to meet as they ought to be met. Luckily for us all, the future cannot be penetrated, or we should be mourning calamities before they befall us; dreading dangers before they threaten, and finally become unmanned at the awful prospect impending over our future. Still there is in the expectancy of danger something that is fascinating, and something, too, that even while we dread we seek; and this feeling, the result of a strange curiosity, enlivened by hope and the love of excitement, is what often keeps up the spirit of the soldier and urges him on, even when worn out with fatigue and well-nigh exhausted, to renewed energy and more determined acts of bravery.

The transport we embarked upon was a dilapidated steamer called the "Haze" (who that ever took passage in her to or from Dixie can forget the old tub?), a miserably appointed vessel, whose officers and crew seemed better fitted for the penitentiary than for the station they held. It was in this vessel that I first learnt some of the hardships and inconveniences of a soldier's life. Just before the hawser was cast off, an Irish apple-woman came on board, her basket well laden with fruit, and said—"Come, me poor boys; it's not many of these ye'll get in the place ye're goin' to—so help yerselves! 'Tis all I have to give ye, except me blessin'—and may God bless ye all, and bring ye safe back agin to the frinds ye have at home!"

She then proceeded to distribute the apples (and fine ones they were) to the boys, many of whom, thinking more of the apples than the blessing, rushed eagerly in saying, "bully for you, old lady!" nearly overturning her in their desire to possess as much of the fruit as possible. As for me, I was content to let them have the fruit—the blessing and good wishes of the warm-hearted old woman was all-sufficient for my desires. She stepped ashore, and as she disappeared in the crowd on the pier, I heard one of the lucky ones, who was luxuriating in the fruits of his scramble, remark to another lucky one,—"D—d good apples!—that's a bully old woman,—how did you like her malediction?" "Big thing," was the response.

The hawser was finally cast off, and, backing slowly out of the dock, the steamer was soon under full headway down the bay. What my emotions were as I gazed (perhaps) for the last time upon the surrounding scenes, I will not tire the reader by giving expression to,—doubtless they resembled in a manner those of thousands of others who had gone the same road before me. My comrades, however, as a general thing, were merry, and talked of the promised land (Dixie) in a tone that showed how high their hopes ran; but presently, as we passed Sandy Hook, and the regular and continuous swell of the ocean set in, many who were before lively as kittens became tame and wretched-looking enough. It was dark before we passed the Highlands, and, though we could not see the Jersey shore we heard of it from the breakers, here and there catching glimpses of lights which told us that even among its barren sands many had found homes. But let Jersey pass, and Delaware, and Virginia's eastern shore—"away, away down South in Dixie" we go. But how few, comparatively, of our detachment were now so eager, after encountering one enemy, to meet another? And yet, I verily believe, many of these poor fellows would prefer at that time to run their chances in battle (if only on the land) than be tossed about at the mercy of the waves and so thoroughly sea-sick. As for me, whose somewhat eventful life had often before sent me "down to the sea in ships," I had no feelings of nausea, and consequently enjoyed the surroundings, the fresh, bracing sea air seeming to instil new vigor into my frame, which twenty years of toil in a printing office (with short intermissions) had tended to impair. Thus situated I could look about me, and I observed some who were formerly the jolliest of our band now the saddest and most forlorn. One in particular (a fine young fellow, whom we dubbed "the colonel") who had been the life of our party, now, pale and sad, with not a word to say, lay doubled up inside the coils of a hawser, as forlorn as the Wandering Jew (by Eugene Sue). It was no more, with him, "Away daown Saouth in a few days—hooray!" We passed the Chesapeake, (Fortress Monroe,) Cape Henry and the dismal coast beyond, and on the third evening neared land to the north of Cape Hatteras.—But such land! A long, low bar of sand, stretching away as far as the eye could reach, relieved at intervals by huge hummocks covered with a stunted growth of trees, whose ragged and forlorn limbs and inclined position made them appear as if a fierce hurricane all the while tore through their