by contrast, the warm fires at home, around which gathered forms which he saw now only in dreams of the night.
How often they talked of their soldier, unconscious of the storm which beat upon his head.
The regiment had orders to move in this dreary time—a part going to Mason's Island across from Georgetown, and a part to Falls Church, Virginia, to which latter place I was assigned, and glad to go. The monotony of our long stay at Beltville was becoming wearisome, and we longed for a change.
It was like breaking camp to the brave soldier, whose spirit is fired with the prospect of coming battles, and who longs to forget in the excitement of marches, hoping to meet the enemy, those dull days of life, when the sameness had become almost unbearable.
So I was eager to go. Dr. French procured transportation for the sick, cooks, and nurses, but forgot me in the hurry of the transaction. I told him to make himself easy about it—I thought I could "cheek" it through.
The pass called for the exact number of privates, nurses, and so on, and Major Morell, our paymaster, thought I could not do it. When the conductor came around, asking me for my ticket, I said, "I belong to the Hospital of the One Hundred and Ninth N. Y. Volunteers."
He straightened himself up, saying, "This pass calls for only so many privates."
"Nevertheless," I replied, "I am supposed to be a
