/%<?<?. * 
 
Law, James D[UfT] i. e. James. 
 
 Revised and enlarged copy of Lancaster—old and new ; 
 an address delivered before the Lancaster board of trade, 
 January 9, 1902, by James D. Law . . . Lancaster, Pa., 
 Printed for the author, 1902. 
 
 34 p. 24 cm . 
 
 Subject entries: Lancaster, Pa. 
 
 2-8106 
 
 Library of Congress, no. 
 
 F159.L2L4. Copyright. 
 
TRIALS 
 
 OF 
 
 A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 BY 
 
 ' CAPT. CHARLES KING, U.S.A., 
 
 AUTHOK OF “THE COLONEL'S DAUGHTER," “ MARION’S FAITH," 
 “CAPTAIN BLAKE," ETC. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. 
 
 1899. 
 
Copyright, 1891 , by L. R. Hamersly & Co„ 
 
 Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company, 
 
 Philadelphia., 
 

 36S,\Z 
 K50-1 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 r~-4 
 
 CO 
 
 to 
 
 CO 
 
 *ey H 
 
 CO 
 
 PAGB 
 
 The Adjutant . n 
 
 The Ordnance Officer. 34 
 
 At West Point. 61 
 
 The Telephone as an Adjunct to the National Guard . . 113 
 
 Militia Inspections.132 
 
 Militia Camps of Instruction.147 
 
 Sham Battles.161 
 
 The Advantages of One’s Own Workshop.1S0 
 
 How WE ELECTED THE MAYOR OF OGLETHORP . 198 
 
 ■ ) " 
 
 V 
 
 * 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Odd experiences fall to the lot of every soldier. Even 
 the subaltern who has spent the quarter of a century 
 since the great surrender in plodding around after a 
 platoon—and such has been the stagnation of promotion 
 that the case is by no means imaginary—can tell of 
 queer times in the reconstruction days; of cheerful badi¬ 
 nage with mobs of women in the Brooklyn “ Whisky 
 War” when the troops were sent down to help the mar¬ 
 shals break up illicit distilleries; of rural hospitalities 
 as they tramped through Pennsylvania during the big 
 strike of ’77; of perilous days on the Indian frontier; 
 even of out-of-the-way sensations in out-of-the-way gar¬ 
 risons; but, take it all in all, a junior in the line is apt 
 to find life more or less monotonous. To break this he 
 might well be tempted to try other duty; but it is cer¬ 
 tain that, were it all to be done over again with the view 
 of seeking the path wherein life might be most placidly 
 enjoyed, nothing would tempt the present writer to quit 
 the shelter of his tactical two yards from the rear rank 
 for any staff position, unaccompanied by rank and emol¬ 
 ument, the army could offer. Indeed, but for certain 
 experiences gained, characters encountered, and scenes 
 visited, “ Mr. X.” would be inclined to think he had made 
 a big mistake in ever allowing himself to be assigned to 
 other than troop duty, and nothing but the fact that he 
 had been mercifully endowed with the faculty of seeing 
 
 1* 5 
 
6 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 the humorous side of a scrape enabled him to get through 
 some of those hereinafter referred to without an attack of 
 nervous prostration. That he escaped that blow entirely 
 is due to the consummate good luck which enabled him 
 to steer clear of the one military maelstrom which would 
 have swamped him utterly: He never had to be post 
 quartermaster; though the mere fact of his having been 
 ordered to temporarily take charge of the office of a sick 
 comrade nearly resulted in his being proclaimed a felon. 
 
 The trouble now is that, on looking over these 
 sketches,—many of them written years ago,—Mr. X. is 
 confronted with the fact that they fall far short of making 
 those old-time “ Trials” half as whimsical as they seem 
 to him. With the best intentions in the world, and a 
 readiness to undertake any duty or responsibility his 
 superiors might unload on him, it must be seen that his 
 capacity for getting into snarls and tangles was simply 
 illimitable. The smallest item of rashness was cock¬ 
 sure to develop into a mammoth of consequences when 
 least expected. Who could have predicted that, when 
 the judge-advocate of the court signed the memorandum 
 receipt for stationery handed him by the quartermaster’s 
 clerk at Jackson Barracks in ’72, he was bringing upon 
 himself a direful communication to reach him two years 
 later when he lay wounded and helpless in far-away Ari¬ 
 zona, and to say that his pay would be stopped if he did 
 not immediately proceed to account for the following 
 quartermaster’s property, for which he was responsible, 
 —to wit: 
 
 One Inkstand. 
 
 Mr. X. remembered that inkstand well. He had been 
 the aide-de-camp who overhauled some of the bids for 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 7 
 
 stationery, and this particular inkstand was a blown-glass 
 affair, about one inch in height, one and one-half inches 
 across the base, and of a capacity of perhaps one-quarter 
 thimble. They were furnished at a price of something 
 in the neighborhood of six cents a gross, and were such 
 a nuisance that the post quartermaster had determined 
 to get rid of them at all hazards. So he unloaded one 
 or more on every board or court that met at the barracks, 
 and dropped the same number from his papers. Here, 
 of course, is where the trouble comes in. One can “ ex¬ 
 pend” pens, ink, paper, etc., but cannot so get rid of what 
 is only an inkstand in name. That must be taken up on 
 regular papers and accounted for monthly,—at least it 
 had to be in *72-74. The fact that this particular ink- 
 stand was expended before the court was sworn—at the 
 expense of a vagrant cat on a neighboring wall—has no 
 bearing on the case. Mr. X. never thought of the brittle 
 little box as a factor of possible magnitude in his future, 
 but it seems the Quartermaster’s Department at Wash¬ 
 ington got riled at him for, not making out a dollar’s 
 worth of papers for a mill’s worth of goods,—thought 
 him recalcitrant when he wasn’t thinking of that business 
 at all, but chasing Apaches for all he was worth, and so 
 in his hour of need the blow fell. Fortunately there 
 was a department commander to interpose betwixt him 
 and the deluge. 
 
 And then, talking of department commanders, who 
 would have supposed that, when the genial and kindly 
 chief of the Missouri, one stormy March morning in ’76, 
 absolutely forbade Mr. X.’s attempting to proceed from 
 head-quarters to a Western post with his wife and child, 
 and declared, “Never mind your leave expiring to- 
 
8 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 morrow; we’ll fix that here,” that Mr. X. was piling up 
 trouble again? We got to Riley a day late. Four 
 months afterwards, X. and his regiment—cut off from 
 all communication—were far up on the Rosebud, in 
 Montana. For two weeks he had had no news from the 
 dear ones at the distant Kansas post: the last news was 
 bad. His heart was full of anxiety, yet leaped with 
 eagerness when the word was passed that Jack Crawford, 
 “ the Poet Scout,” had made a daring ride of it all by 
 himself, had come out from Fetterman to join our scouts, 
 and had brought the mail. “ Anything for me, Jack ?” 
 pleaded X., breaking in upon the group of letter-reading 
 officers. “Yes! One !” An official letter, big and por¬ 
 tentous. An announcement that, for absence without 
 leave for one day, Mr. X.’s pay would be stopped accord¬ 
 ingly. Only this and nothing more. No telegram, no 
 backward mail,—no consideration for the fellows cut off 
 in the Indian country. Nothing to do but grin and bear 
 it, and swear until the campaign was well-nigh over. 
 
 Then X. got reported absent without leave, and had his 
 pay stopped while actually traveling on duty with the 
 general to whom he had been assigned as aide-de-camp. 
 He had to go down in his pockets and pay for a raft of 
 signal property he had never seen nor heard of, because 
 he was ass enough to receipt to a fellow up in the Black 
 Hills, who subsequently wrote that the names given some 
 of the items were wrong, and he begged to submit the 
 proper names. X. took up the “ proper .names” on his 
 papers, and confidingly wrote to the chief signal officer of 
 the mistake and said he would drop the old names from 
 his return. The chief signal officer (as represented by the 
 lamented Howgate) responded forthwith that there could 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 9 
 
 be no possible objection to Mr. X.’s taking up the new 
 names; indeed, he would be expected to; but as to drop¬ 
 ping the old ones, he would do nothing of the kind—nor 
 did he—until paid for. 
 
 And then there was that matter of- But here! 
 
 The next thing Mr. X. knows he will be telling what is 
 is in the pages that follow, to which the soldier reader— 
 no one else could wade through them—is respectfully 
 referred. 
 
TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 THE ADJUTANT. 
 
 Just when our staff duties began is perhaps a mat¬ 
 ter of no importance. Major Sanger’s comprehensive 
 essay on “ The Duties of Staff-Officers” had not then 
 been written, but we had known that accomplished 
 officer when he himself was adjutant, and had unhesi¬ 
 tatingly adopted his system as one worthy of imitation. 
 That was a great many years ago; orders, regulations, 
 customs of service, and the tactics of the three arms 
 have undergone important changes; but so long as 
 human nature remains as it is and has been since crea¬ 
 tion, so long will there be mistakes in the best-regulated 
 families and stumbling-blocks for the most level-headed 
 officials, civil or military. 
 
 In the course of ten years it was our luck to encounter 
 experiences varied if not valuable. We had been adju¬ 
 tant for a dozen different C. O.’s in every section of the 
 country; aide-de-camp to more than one pair of stars; 
 had acted as head of all kinds of bureaus, as adjutant 
 and inspector-general, engineer, judge-advocate, military 
 secretary, ordnance and signal officer, quartermaster, 
 commissary, even as chaplain and surgeon, and with the 
 profound conviction that our own shortcomings were 
 many, there is grafted in our inner consciousness the be¬ 
 lief that were a man possessed of the energy and snap 
 
12 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 of Sanger himself, the “ paper knowledge” of Leonard 
 Hay, the legal acumen of Gardner, the patience of Wil¬ 
 helm, the reticence of Horace Porter, the energy of 
 Nickerson, the courtesy of Audenreid, the buried pen 
 of “ Perfect” Bliss, and the imperturbability of “ Bob” 
 Williams, yet would he find at some time or other a com¬ 
 bination of circumstances against which no experience 
 could make him armor-proof, and of which the linesman 
 pur et simple has no conception whatsoever. 
 
 We all know what the adjutant should be,—a soldier 
 in everything, in carriage, form, voice, and manner, the 
 soul of parade and guard-mounting, the reliable authority 
 on tactics and regulations, the patient student of general 
 orders, the rigid scrutinizer of returns and rolls, the 
 scholarly man of the subalterns, the faithful adherent 
 and executive in spirit and in letter of the commanding 
 officer. We all know how easy it is to formulate rules 
 and regulations for his guidance on all matters of duty 
 and routine in garrison,—we all know just what day the 
 regimental return should reach Washington, the post 
 return department head-quarters, the company papers the 
 adjutant’s office, but until we have tried to “run” the 
 head-quarters of a frontier post and of a cavalry regiment 
 in the heart of the Indian country, and the height of 
 Indian campaigning, we have not, and Sanger had not, 
 the faintest conception of the trials of staff-officers as 
 exemplified in the case of the adjutant. 
 
 Fancy, if you can, a regiment situated just as we were 
 on the ist day of June, 187-. Six of the twelve compa¬ 
 nies scouting about on the Southern plains, the other six 
 waiting for their turn, the colonel and adjutant off on 
 leave, the lieutenant-colonel and quartermaster “ running 
 
THE ADJUTANT. 
 
 13 
 
 the regiment,” and all of a sudden a big Indian war 
 breaks out far to the north, and head-quarters with ten 
 companies are hurried off to re-enforce another depart¬ 
 ment, and from that day to the 15th of November not a 
 glimpse do we catch of desks or papers. Colonel, adju¬ 
 tant, and everybody is in the field in active pursuit of a 
 still more active foe, and not a return has been made in 
 all those months. Winter setting in, we are ordered to 
 a post near the railway, and the colonel hands the adju¬ 
 tant a bundle of letters, all harping upon the same string. 
 The adjutant-general of the army informs the com¬ 
 manding officer, in the final communication of his series, 
 that the returns of the regiment for the months of May, 
 June, July, August, September, etc., have not been re¬ 
 ceived. “Your attention has been repeatedly called to 
 the neglect,” etc. (We got them in a bunch at the end 
 of the campaign, but, being happily cut off from all mail 
 communication during the summer, were spared the con¬ 
 secutive infliction of letter after letter at the time.) “ You 
 will at once render the required returns, with such expla¬ 
 nation as you may be able to give,” etc. And with the 
 official expression of the proper amount of astonishment 
 and indignation at such apparent disregard of instruc¬ 
 tions, the adjutant-general winds up with the customary 
 information that he is the obedient servant of the colonel 
 whom he has been flagellating. 
 
 Opening the next series, we find a similar array of 
 monthly remonstrances from the adjutant-general of 
 the department from which we were sent in June. “ For 
 
 temporary service in the Department of the-” was 
 
 the language of the order by which we were hurried 
 away, and though every vestige of the regiment is now 
 
14 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 far removed from his jurisdiction, the commanding offi¬ 
 cer of our former field is jealously tenacious of his rights 
 over us, and he too demands reports and returns, ex¬ 
 presses his censure of our negligence in fitting terms, 
 and, being debarred from remonstrating with our new 
 department commander for our illegal detention, now 
 that the war is over, takes it out in rasping our colonel. 
 
 Then the adjutant-general of the Department of the 
 -, whom we have been “ re-enforcing/’ takes his in¬ 
 nings, and though one would suppose that his knowledge 
 of our long isolation among the hostiles and separation 
 from all baggage would prompt him to consideration, he 
 bowls us over as remorselessly as the others. 
 
 Finally, the adjutant-general of the division delivers 
 his fire, and to all appearances it would seem as though 
 not the faintest realization of our actual condition had 
 been vouchsafed to any one of these amiable autocrats, 
 but that from the hazy distance of Washington or Chi¬ 
 cago, through fragrant clouds of Havana smoke, from 
 the sitting-point of easy office-chairs, those gentlemen, 
 gazing dreamily over roof and spire, beheld us in unin¬ 
 terrupted possession of our desks and retained papers, 
 and with certainly nothing better to do than make out 
 new ones. We haven’t had time to unpack an inkstand; 
 the mud of the Yellowstone is clinging to our horses* 
 fetlocks; but the colonel unloads a trunkful of papers, 
 and, with a brisk, “ There, Mr. X., get all this straightened 
 out as quick as possible,” goes off to set his own house 
 in order, and when he reappears it is with a draft of an 
 order showing what he means to do towards straighten 
 ing out the regiment. There is no question but that it 
 needs it. For years past it has been little else than an 
 
THE ADJUTANT. 
 
 IS 
 
 agglomeration of companies; every captain has run his 
 machine to suit himself; no two company commanders 
 adopted the same system; drills, except by company 
 mounted, were unknown; and of the forms of parade, 
 the intricacies of battalion movements, the nicer “ points” 
 of sentinel duty, the command was in absolute ignorance. 
 Four hundred recruits had joined, and the confusion was 
 chaotic; but we had a new colonel, he had a new adjutant, 
 both meant business, and the grind began. 
 
 Reveille, 5.30 a.m. Breakfast immediately after. Stables, 
 6 a.m. Sick-call and fatigue, 7.30. Boots and saddles for 
 morning parade, 8 a.m. (mounted and in full dress). 
 Adjutant’s call, 8.20. Guard-mounting (mounted) imme¬ 
 diately after parade. Drill-call (battalion drill, mounted), 
 IO.15. Recall, 11.45. Dinner, 12 M. Squad drill of 
 recruits, 1.15 to 2.15 p.m. Company drill (dismounted), 
 2.30 to 3.30 p.m. Stables, 4 to 5.15. Retreat and evening 
 dress-parade (dismounted), sunset. Recitations of officers, 
 Monday evening; of non-commissioned officers, Tues¬ 
 days and Fridays. Tattoo, 9 p.m. 
 
 Now, the colonel meant to have things vigorously car¬ 
 ried out, and started in himself by receiving the reveille 
 reports in person, one officer superintending the roll-call 
 of each company, and the adjutant that of the band 
 and non-commissioned staff. Then everybody—colonel, 
 major, adjutant, quartermaster, and band—went to stables 
 morning and evening; and it may be stated that there 
 was some growling among the company officers at least, 
 arising from the fact that their unoccupied hours were 
 few. But we are portraying experiences in the adjutant’s 
 duties merely, and therefore return to him. 
 
 The duties of this functionary outside of his office 
 
16 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 began at first call for reveille, when he sleepily arose 
 and arrayed himself in stable-dress; made his way 
 through the darkness to the band-quarters, some four 
 hundred yards away; watched the roll-call of his “ wind¬ 
 jammers then hunted up the colonel on parade, reported 
 to him, and between reveille and stables had time to 
 swallow a cup of coffee, and then see to it that the 
 orderly trumpeter sounded stable-call sharp on time. It 
 happened once or twice that those graceless young imps, 
 the regimental trumpeters, would delay the call to give 
 the men or themselves more time at breakfast, and the 
 colonel ruled that the adjutant was responsible. Some¬ 
 body had to be, and why not the adjutant ? 
 
 From his office then the adjutant tramped down to the 
 stables in the creek valley, six hundred yards away, and 
 gave his attention to the grooming of his thirty-odd 
 elderly grays, the “ mount” of the musicians and non-com¬ 
 missioned staff, and on completion of this duty he returned 
 to the office in time to see sick-call sounded, start the 
 clerks at their work, then hurry to his quarters for the 
 change from his strongly-scented stable-rig to bath, then 
 full-dress uniform, and his own breakfast before the sound 
 of “ boots and saddles” at eight should summon him to 
 the saddle. Morning parade over, all other officers except 
 the old and new officers of the day had time to get home 
 and throw off helmet and double-breasted coats; the 
 adjutant, however, had to hold on for a long guard¬ 
 mounting and a passage in review at walk and trot before 
 he could do likewise. It was generally 9.15 to 9.30 
 before ceremonies were over; then he had barely time to 
 change to “undress,” rush to the office, and find his desk 
 loaded down with papers of every kind, when drill-call 
 
THE ADJUTANT. 
 
 17 
 
 would sound, and from then until noon he and his horse 
 would be in a lather in the rapid movements required of 
 them at battalion drill. From 1 to 2 he, with most of 
 the other officers, had to attend recruit drill; and, pro¬ 
 vided he was willing to give up all idea of lunch or din¬ 
 ner, the hours unoccupied by out-door duties in which he 
 could hope to straighten out those papers were from 2 to 
 4 p.m., at which latter hour he was again summoned to 
 stable. 
 
 With seven months’ returns of every kind in arrears, 
 with his desk littered with the routine papers of the day, 
 with more than two hours’ work in getting the morning 
 reports, sick reports, ration returns, and requisitions for 
 forage, straw, salt, etc., to fit into one another; with all 
 the passes, applications for boards of survey, extra duty 
 men, hospital cooks and attendants, fatigue details, letters 
 to officers requiring explanation why, etc., endorsements 
 on a hundred different papers, company returns to be 
 scrutinized, colonel’s letters to head-quarters of the de¬ 
 partment, and the adjutant-general’s orders, details, 
 countersigns, etc., etc., the adjutant had far more than 
 enough to fill every moment of those two hours without 
 that hideous incubus of seven months’ papers in arrears. 
 The first thing that occurred to him was to ask the colonel 
 for more clerks,—he only had three; the last thing that 
 occurred to him was to ask the colonel for more time. 
 If the truth be told, the adjutant was as intent on the 
 “ setting up” of the six companies on duty at head¬ 
 quarters as was the colonel himself, and thought papers 
 a somewhat secondary consideration to getting the men 
 (and officers) up to a thorough tactical proficiency ; he 
 
 did not want to be excused from a single military duty. 
 b 2* 
 
18 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 It was gall and wormwood to his soul to mark the 
 slouchy carriage of the men, their clumsy salute, and 
 the utter lack of steadiness in their ranks. It was ex¬ 
 asperating to see the blunders of the non-commissioned 
 officers for the first week of guard-mounting, and with 
 all his might he started in to straighten things out. His 
 theory was, that in order to get the men up to the stand¬ 
 ard the non-commissioned officers must be thoroughly 
 instructed, but the colonel held the captains responsible 
 for this, and, as bad luck would have it, every captain 
 had individual ideas of his own to instil into the minds 
 of his sergeants, as a consequence of which six totally 
 different systems prevailed; each captain thought his the 
 best, and was fiercely jealous of anything that savored 
 of interference. 
 
 The colonel required weekly reports from his company 
 commanders of the proficiency of their non-commis¬ 
 sioned officers, and established a system of marks by 
 which he could judge of their relative merit. This 
 seemed all right to the one West Pointer among the cap¬ 
 tains, was looked upon as a nuisance by some of the 
 others, and absolutely denounced by one of the very best 
 company commanders in the regiment, on the ground 
 that “ it reflected on the intelligence and faithfulness of 
 the captain to require a report from him.” It was simply 
 marvelous to see into how many meanings the simple 
 language of the tactics could be distorted, and how ob¬ 
 stinately the adherent of each particular interpretation 
 maintained the correctness of his theory. The recita¬ 
 tions of the officers to the colonel had developed the 
 fact that, as a rule, the higher the rank the less the 
 knowledge of the subject; but then, as Captain Canker 
 
THE ADJUTANT. 
 
 19 
 
 remarked, “ These West Pointers retain their school-boy 
 habits, while we men who were educated in the school 
 of war itself are not accustomed to this sort of nursery 
 talk.” And, as for the men, it may be said that in the 
 saddle they didn’t do badly, but when it came to foot- 
 
 parades, guard-mounts and the like, “ It was d-d 
 
 dough-boy work, and they hadn’t ’listed in the cavalry 
 for such.” However, the colonel was bound to have 
 dismounted parades, and the adjutant was bound to help 
 him. It was ordered that for dismounted duty the sabre 
 should not be worn, and the command should appear 
 armed with the carbine alone. 
 
 The first evening dress-parade was as chock-full of 
 errors as it could well be. Nothing could induce the 
 guides to quit their positions in ranks and come out on 
 the line. Captains Canker and Curbit in the right wing 
 looked daggers at the adjutant (who finally had to drag 
 the bewildered first sergeants where they belonged), then 
 dressed their companies to the wrong flank. Captain 
 Munger faced along the line instead of to the front as he 
 aligned his men (and never could be brought to do it 
 any other way afterwards), and Captain Snaffle savagely 
 ordered a marker to “ get out of the way of his com¬ 
 pany,” to the great perplexity of that functionary, who 
 had been ordered by the adjutant not to budge until 
 the command “ guides posts !” In opening ranks, Cap¬ 
 tain Canker, whose company was on the extreme right, 
 almost refused to dress up on line with his lieutenant, 
 who commanded the first platoon, and was heard ex¬ 
 pressing deep indignation at the idea of a lieutenant, 
 if he was adjutant, being permitted to give orders on 
 parade to his superior officers. The “ present arms” 
 
20 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 was fair, except that only half the officers (the younger 
 half) executed the first motion at the command, “ Pre¬ 
 sent!” The manual was worried through after a fashion, 
 and then the adjutant came marching in to receive 
 the reports. As he glanced along the line to see 
 what the first sergeants looked like, he was struck by 
 the variety. The first sergeant of the first company, 
 armed with the carbine, was standing at an order on the 
 extreme right; the second company’s sergeant, armed 
 with a sabre, was standing at a carry; the third com¬ 
 pany’s sergeant was resting the point of his sabre on the 
 ground, like the officers; fourth company, sabre at a 
 carry; fifth company, sabre point down; sixth company, 
 sabre point up. The adjutant made mental note of it 
 and of the intricacies that followed. At the command 
 “First sergeants /” one of the down-pointed sabres came 
 up, but the others and the carbine on the right remained 
 immovable. At “To the front and centre /” five of the 
 sergeants stepped to the front, some one, some two yards, 
 but the man on the right held his ground. In response 
 to a sharp “ What are you waiting for, sergeant of first 
 company?” from the adjutant, he shambled out (and sub¬ 
 sequently explained that he was waiting for the com¬ 
 mand “ March !”), but so perturbed in spirit that he forgot 
 the result of the company roll-call. At “Report!" the 
 six officials expressed themselves as follows: 
 
 “ Company * O,’ present or accounted for, Sir." 
 
 “ Company ‘ R,’ all present or accounted for.” 
 
 “ ‘ T’ company, present or accounted for, Sir." 
 
 “ ‘ U’ company, all present, Sir." 
 
 “Sir ! two privates are absent.” 
 
 “ ‘ X’ company, all are present, sir.” 
 
THE ADJUTANT. 
 
 21 
 
 Not one of them had hit on the right form. 
 
 At “ First sergeants to your posts /” every blessed one 
 of those sergeants faced outwards, and when they finally 
 retook their positions in line two of them did so by turn¬ 
 ing round and backing into position, one by facing to 
 the left about, and only two by marching through their 
 interval to the required yard and then executing the 
 about face. 
 
 And yet that night, when the colonel announced at 
 officers’ recitation that the adjutant had criticisms to 
 make at the expense of all the first sergeants, four of the 
 captains were ready to bet that theirs had made no mis¬ 
 take, and the junior captain announced that he had spent 
 an hour instructing his sergeant that day, and knew his 
 couldn’t have gone wrong. 
 
 The adjutant, being given the floor, proceeded to state 
 his case, but it was a characteristic of officers’ recitation 
 in the —th that no man was allowed to express his views 
 uninterrupted. There were always six or eight who burst 
 into the most carefully-prepared opinion and complicated 
 affairs to the uttermost; consequently, long before the 
 discussion which ensued on the very first issue was 
 half over, tattoo sounded and the convention adjourned 
 without decision, but the adjutant’s “points” were 
 these: 
 
 1st. The men being armed with the carbine, the first 
 sergeants should have been similarly equipped. The 
 tactics clearly indicate such intention in paragraph 1129 
 (dress-parade, dismounted). Here the captains to a man 
 opposed him. No cavalry first sergeant was ever intended 
 to carry a carbine, and the eventual decision of the colonel 
 sustained the captains. In all subsequent parades of the 
 
22 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 —th the first sergeants marched with drawn sabre on the 
 right of a line of carbines.* 
 
 2d. No first sergeant should drop the point of his sabre 
 at “ Order arms!" only officers and non-commissioned 
 staff-officers being mentioned in paragraph 1075. 
 
 3d. At “ To the front and centre /” all first sergeants 
 should step two yards to front and face to centre. 
 
 4th. At “Report!" nothing but the language of the tac¬ 
 tics, and exactly that, should be employed, as, for instance: 
 
 “ Company i A' present, or accounted for.” Or, 
 
 “ Company ‘ A* two privates absent.” 
 
 (“Well, that’s just what Sergeants Finnegan, Bran- 
 nigan, O’Grady, etc., said,” was here heard from several 
 company commanders.) 
 
 5 th. At “ To your posts /” not a man should stir, but wait 
 for “ March /” before facing outwards. Captains Curbit 
 and Munger thought such tactics simply ridiculous. If 
 the sergeants were not to move until “ March /” returning 
 to their posts, they should not budge until “ March /” 
 when coming to the front and centre. The adjutant 
 retorted with some asperity that he was not there to 
 defend the tactics,—no man suffered more on their 
 account than he did,—but he proposed to carry them out 
 to the letter, whether nonsensical or not. Here Captain 
 Snaffle sailed into the adjutant with, “ You talk about 
 sticking to tactics, and yesterday morning, by Jinks ! you 
 * mounted’ my best sergeant for not facing his platoon 
 when wheeling marching in review at guard-mounting!” 
 
 “ Of course I did,” says the adjutant. “ We’ve ham¬ 
 mered that point flat long ago. Look at paragraph 278, 
 4 Cavalry Tactics.’ ” 
 
 * Eventually changed “ by order.” 
 
THE ADJUTANT. 
 
 23 
 
 “ I don’t care,” says Snaffle. “ General Coach decided 
 that sergeants should not face their platoons, and they 
 were all drilled so until you became adjutant.” 
 
 “ True enough; but the colonel, not the lieutenant- 
 colonel, commands us now, and that isn’t the only point 
 changed by the pageful.” 
 
 Then another captain concludes it time to give his dig. 
 He and the adjutant have been pretty close friends, but 
 it is a case of company commanders vs. the staff, and 
 though in his innermost heart he agrees with the latter on 
 all points thus far, he sees that the adjutant stands alone, 
 and so has the political sense to join the heavy majority. 
 
 “ Well, Pll tell you what you do in violation of tactics 
 X.: you march the guard in review at undress guard¬ 
 mounting.” 
 
 (Chorus of captains: " Yes, I was just going to speak 
 of that,” etc.) 
 
 To which the sorely-assailed exponent of the modern 
 customs of service responds that in the first place the 
 adjutant is apt to do pretty much as the officer of the day 
 directs in the matter of marching in review, but, to come 
 down to a matter of fact, there had not been an undress 
 guard-mounting since their arrival. 
 
 “ Mr. X.,” says the captain, oracularly, “ it has been 
 undress guard-mounting every day this week.” 
 
 The adjutant begins to see the drift of his argument, 
 so he questions,— 
 
 “ The weather has been bright and clear, has it not ?” 
 
 “ Granted.” 
 
 “ We have had the band out every day, and it has 
 played for everything, including a long inspection and 
 * troop,’ has it not ?” 
 
24 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 “ Very true.” 
 
 “ The officer of the day directed the guard to be marched 
 in review, didn’t he ?” 
 
 “ Probably.” 
 
 “Then how was it undress guard-mounting, and why 
 shouldn’t we march in review?” 
 
 “ Because the men wore overcoats /” 
 
 Somehow or other in the dead silence that follows this 
 announcement the captain becomes conscious of the fact 
 that the donning of a winter uniform in these high lati¬ 
 tudes does not necessarily prohibit the observance of the 
 forms and ceremonies included in the tactics, and adds,— 
 
 “ At least, that’s always been my idea of undress 
 guard-mounting.” 
 
 But the snickering of some of the juniors and the 
 ominous silence of his adherents of the moment before 
 induce the captain to believe he had put his foot in it. 
 
 Finally, it was decided by the colonel that in order to 
 insure a thorough and uniform system of instruction of 
 the non-commissioned officers on all “ points” in the cere¬ 
 monies, duties of guards, sentinels, and the like, the non¬ 
 commissioned officers of the garrison should assemble 
 one night a week and be “ lectured” by the adjutant, who 
 would decide all questions on which there might be a 
 variance of opinion and instruction among the men. 
 This proved a success. Within a fortnight the parades 
 and guard-mountings, so far as the sergeants and cor¬ 
 porals were concerned, went off without a flaw. It is 
 true that there was deep-rooted and openly-expressed 
 objection on the part of several of the company com¬ 
 manders, who appeared to regard their sergeants as a 
 species of personal property over whom no one else 
 
TIIE ADJUTANT. 
 
 25 
 
 ought to have any jurisdiction ; and some of them went 
 so far as to declare that they could have nothing more to 
 do with the recitations of their men if such interference 
 was to be tolerated; but one of the most uncompro¬ 
 misingly jealous of these gentlemen, having availed 
 himself of the colonel’s hint that he would be glad to 
 have any of the officers visit the adjutant’s school, and 
 having sat a silent but deeply-interested listener to all 
 that transpired through two evenings, fairly took the 
 adjutant’s breath away by accosting him with— 
 
 “ I’ve been a determined opposer of yours, X., in all 
 this matter, but I say to you that this ends my last ob¬ 
 jection. It’s a capital thing, and I shall take occasion 
 to say to every other company commander what I think 
 of it.” 
 
 And he did, and, whether owing to this fact or not, 
 things began to work smoothly. There was always a 
 crowd to see guard-mounting, and eager, critical eyes to 
 watch those six details as they came dancing out in 
 double time. The utmost pride began to be manifested 
 by the non-commissioned officers in the sharp, soldierly 
 style in which the ceremony was conducted, and from 
 the moment the call sounded to the last notes of the 
 band after marching in review the strongest rivalry was 
 visible between the companies, and almost every bright 
 morning the chevron-wearers of the garrison, to a man, 
 could be seen grouped about the barrack side of the 
 parade closely watching every move and fiercely anathe¬ 
 matizing the faintest display of awkwardness on the part 
 of their comrades. 
 
 Finally, our guard-mounting began to be a source of 
 pride to everybody, and visiting officers were always 
 b 3 
 
26 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 hauled out to see it. Occasionally there would be some 
 “ soi-disant ” authority on tactics from another post who 
 had to have his say if he belonged to the regiment; and 
 as the adjutant never had an instant of time to devote to 
 discussion, he generally succeeded in impressing every¬ 
 body with the idea that he was an ill-tempered brute at 
 best. 
 
 “ Say, X.,” said one of these gentry one bright morning 
 as the adjutant was hurrying through the knot of offi¬ 
 cers always grouped about the office after guard-mount¬ 
 ing, “ hold on a moment; I want to ask you something. 
 Won’t detain you a minute.” 
 
 “ Blaze away, then, captain ; I have no spare time.” 
 
 “ Well,” and here the critic threw open his blouse, 
 inserted his thumbs in the arm-holes of his waistcoat, 
 and glanced impressively round upon the listening group, 
 “what I want to remark is this: you run a very fair 
 guard-mounting here,—I’ll admit that; I don’t know 
 that I ever saw anything much better” (he had never 
 seen more than a dozen files mounted in his life, and 
 our guard comprised forty-eight men),—“ but you don’t 
 have enough variety about it; you do the same thing 
 over and over again. Now, at our post,” etc., etc. 
 
 “Very probably you do introduce varieties at your 
 post, captain,but where do you find them in the tactics?” 
 
 “Well, Mr. X., you might make some little changes: 
 for instance, after your guard passes the officer of the 
 day it always wheels into line to the left and then 1 fours 
 right,’ you know. Now, we make all manner of pretty 
 changes there.” (Chorus of “ Yes, that’s so. I’ve won¬ 
 dered you didn’t think of that.”) And the critical cap¬ 
 tain smiles patronizingly on the adjutant, who had been 
 
THE ADJUTANT. 2 7 
 
 mounting guards long before this interrogator had 
 stepped into his first commission. 
 
 The adjutant is certainly testy and snappish: “Just 
 look in your tactics, and you’ll possibly be able to grasp 
 the reason why we don’t indulge in varieties on that 
 point,” and brushes past. 
 
 Gradually they grew to let the staff alone where mat¬ 
 ters of that description were concerned, but all the time, 
 day after day, innumerable points were coming up, in 
 which the universal custom was to sling metaphorical 
 bricks at the adjutant, as though he were to blame. 
 Who ever served at a post where the head-quarters clock 
 was not the fruitful if undeserving source of half the 
 lates and absences of the garrison ? What officer of the 
 day who hurries out at the last moment buckling his 
 waist-belt on the run does not calumniate the adjutant 
 and declare he had purposely set that clock ahead ten 
 minutes, when but a moment before the old officer of 
 the day was swearing over guard-mounting’s being ten 
 minutes behind time and he was in a hurry to get to 
 town ? And then the band at parade ! Even as Captain 
 Curbit was assailing the adjutant after dismissal of parade 
 over the slow time played in marching out, swearing 
 that a three-legged stool couldn’t keep step to such a 
 grind, would not Captain Snaffle rush up like an explo¬ 
 sion with “ Look here, X.! By Jinks! there wasn’t a man 
 in my company could keep step marching in; it was 
 fast enough for double time” ? and with the strains of the 
 “ Inman Line” or “ Northern Route” still ringing in our 
 ears, would not Canker, or some other gifted critic who 
 could not tell Stabat Mater from “ Taps,” inquire when, 
 by George! that band was ever going to play anything 
 
28 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 but “ Marching through Georgia” ? Was there ever an 
 adjutant who did not think at some time or other that 
 the meanest part of his duty was in running the band ? 
 Was there ever a band that did not contain among its 
 talented musicians some irreclaimable devotees to Bac¬ 
 chus ? And, as a rule, are not the bandsmen apt to 
 be the most fractious and unruly set in the garrison ? 
 Music, that hath charms to soothe the savage breast, by 
 some strange freak of nature develops an unhallowed 
 taste for beer and a distaste for discipline among its 
 chosen disciples, and rare indeed are the instances when 
 the guard-house is not graced by the presence of some 
 prominent instrumentalist, usually the snare-drummer. 
 Yet such was our adjutant’s zeal, and so thorough the 
 understanding between himself and his charges, that for 
 two wonderful months not a member of his band had 
 been absent from roll-call or duty, not a man had been 
 noticeably under the influence of liquor, and, as the colo¬ 
 nel himself remarked, his horses were better groomed 
 and cared for than those of the companies. But colonels 
 cannot always be with us, and the adjutant who has 
 thoroughly and faithfully served his chief finds himself 
 suddenly thrown some day under the second in com¬ 
 mand, who is rarely, if ever, thoroughly en rapport with 
 the colonel. Within a week from the date of the latter’s 
 complimentary allusion to the discipline of the band, 
 and during his temporary absence as witness before a 
 court, the command devolves upon the next in rank at 
 the post, and the adjutant, entering the office with his 
 hands full of papers, is confronted by the sight of this 
 latter functionary excitedly tramping up and down the 
 room and haranguing a knot of a dozen officers in a 
 
THE ADJUTANT. 29 
 
 manner suggestive of lively indignation. Suddenly the 
 ad interim commander turns upon him with,— 
 
 “Yes, sir; and the remark applies equally to you, sir. 
 Your band is utterly demoralized, by George !—utterly 
 demoralized , sir. This morning my breakfast was half an 
 hour late, and, when I sent into the kitchen to hurry it up, 
 there was my cook, sir, sitting on your bass-drummer’s 
 lap.” And the senior officer glares upon the subaltern 
 as though he were the medium through which the atten¬ 
 tions of the goddess of the kitchen had been alienated 
 from their proper object. Both the adjutant and the by¬ 
 standers may and probably do consider that perhaps the 
 charge of demoralization might be more aptly applied 
 to the cook than the band, but they have the profound 
 sagacity to keep such opinions to themselves until they 
 get out of ear-shot of the office. 
 
 But all this time those back returns still hang fire. 
 Companies “ P” and “ R” have been hurried out on a 
 midwinter’s chase after the fleetest of Plain warriors, 
 and are away up among the snows of the Big Horn 
 Mountains. Their returns are not in, and the regi¬ 
 mental papers cannot be finished until they are. De¬ 
 partment and division adjutant-generals again assail us 
 with mandates to furnish those papers at once. The 
 adjutant writes imploringly to the captains of “ P” and 
 “ R,” and in the course of a month those gentlemen 
 reply by inquiring indignantly how in the name of Jack 
 Frost we expect them to make out returns with the 
 thermometer thirty degrees below zero, and all papers 
 three hundred miles away. “You come out here and 
 catch these Cheyennes, and we’ll only be too [adjec- 
 
 tived] glad to come in there and make out papers.” 
 
 3* 
 
 ( 
 
30 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 The adjutant has hunted the regiment high and low for 
 more clerks, but every captain needs his own, no more 
 are to had, and now the thoroughly wretched subaltern 
 is sitting up until two and three in the morning working 
 at those papers himself. In cheerful appreciation of his 
 clerical labors a general court-martial is convened at the 
 post, and the adjutant is assigned to duty as judge-advo¬ 
 cate. Why this should be so passes all comprehension, 
 but in nine out of ten cases when a court is ordered to 
 meet at the head-quarters of a regiment, the discriminat¬ 
 ing officials of the general commanding saddle the work 
 of that court on the shoulders of the adjutant. It is bad 
 enough in the infantry, but when it comes to the cavalry 
 it is worse than imposition. 
 
 The adjutant is getting, possibly, three or four hours 
 of broken and troubled sleep now, and many a morning 
 finds him dispensing with breakfast altogether. His 
 three clerks are working diligently, when suddenly the 
 enlistment of the first and best—the only reliable one 
 among them—expires, and he takes his final statements 
 and a good character with him on his way to a situa¬ 
 tion where he can get ten times the pay for one-half the 
 work. 
 
 At last “ P” and “ R” return from their winter cam¬ 
 paign, and by dint of vigorous spurring from head-quar¬ 
 ters are induced to send in the needed returns in the 
 course of a fortnight, and just as the adjutant places in 
 the hands of his two remaining assistants a carefully- 
 completed original of all the required papers, with instruc¬ 
 tions to work night and day to copy them, “ up comes 
 an order” which sends the colonel hurrying Eastward 
 to take command of troops assembling to suppress riots 
 
THE ADJUTANT. 
 
 31 
 
 consequent on railway strikes, and the colonel directs 
 the adjutant to leave all and not follow but accompany 
 him on first train. The captain left in command prom¬ 
 ises to see that the clerks work on those returns and 
 mail them to the adjutant as fast as completed. In the 
 course of a fortnight, as they don’t come, the latter first 
 writes, then telegraphs, and finally extorts a reply from 
 the official pretty much as follows: 
 
 u Dear X.,—Both clerks got on a drunk soon after 
 you left, and raised merry Hades. Put them in guard¬ 
 house to sober off, and then set them to work under 
 sentinel. They got the sentry drunk too, and he and 
 Peck went off to town together and haven’t been heard 
 of since. Schmidt (the other clerk) swears he don’t 
 know where your ‘ originals’ are; says he thinks Peck 
 built a fire of them when he was crazy drunk. 
 
 “ Yours, in haste, 
 
 “ Curbit.” 
 
 The delights of civilization, the luxuries of “ palatial 
 hotels,” the feting of grateful citizens who have wel¬ 
 comed the Regulars right royally (as the only reliable 
 protection against mob violence), are all forgotten; the 
 unhappy adjutant obtains immediate authority to hasten 
 back to the frontier, and there, at head-quarters, he finds 
 complete confirmation of Curbit’s letter and his own 
 fears. With only one clerk left, he goes drearily to work 
 to repair damages; all has to be done over again, but, 
 by dint of ceaseless effort, he succeeds in the course of 
 two weeks in making up most of the large array of 
 missing papers. He is only two or three months be- 
 
32 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 hind, and things are beginning to brighten, when the 
 
 war-cloud that has been hovering over the Northwest 
 
 for the last month spreads and gathers strength; an 
 
 Indian band, small but plucky, bidding defiance to the 
 
 troops of the Pacific slope, is making a dash across the 
 
 continent to gain a refuge among the sympathetic red 
 
 men of the eastern plains. We have been back from 
 
 “riot duty” just three weeks when one evening our 
 
 colonel receives a telegram directing him to proceed by 
 
 first train to a station in the far West, thence by stage to 
 
 the Wind River Valley, there to organize a command to 
 
 march to the very heart of the continent, the vicinity of 
 
 the wild park of the Yellowstone, the entire regiment to 
 
 follow him bv rail and forced marches. The colonel 
 * 
 
 hands it to his staff-officer with the simple remark, “You 
 and I start at once,” and the adjutant, eagerly welcoming 
 the prospect of field-service, and almost savagely gleeful 
 at the arrival of such admirable excuse for shortcomings 
 in the regimental office, hurries off to make his prepara¬ 
 tions for the ensuing campaign. 
 
 Once again it is November before we return to head¬ 
 quarters, desks, and papers, and once more seven 
 months’ returns are in arrears, once again the same 
 grind commences and new complications arise. But, 
 Merciful Powers! the pages of the United Service are all 
 too limited for the recital of half the features, exasperat¬ 
 ing or comical, that go to make up the experiences of 
 the adjutant of a cavalry regiment on the “frontier.” 
 Looking over Sanger’s “ Duties of Staff-Officers,” and 
 accepting as gospel truth his theories, drifting back over 
 the tide of time to boyish days in the seaboard case¬ 
 mate, where we youngsters were wont to hear him ex- 
 
THE ADJUTANT. 
 
 33 
 
 pound on military duties generally, recalling the hopes 
 and ambitions in his case so fully realized, we find our¬ 
 selves wondering, par exemple , just what he would have 
 said in his own vigorous English had his lot been cast 
 in the cavalry and his carefully-prepared papers in the 
 fire. 
 
34 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER 
 
 THE ORDNANCE OFFICER. 
 
 Not the officer de jure , the blessed possessor of a com¬ 
 mission in that gilt-edged array of scientists, the Ord¬ 
 nance Department, but the unhappy de facto ordnance 
 officer who is detailed to perform the duties of that 
 exalted station, but by no means to participate in any 
 of the comforts, elegancies, agr6mens y etc., appertaining 
 thereto. Just the same abstri*se and incomprehensible 
 reasoning to which we alluded in a previous article 
 (The Adjutant) as impelling the department commander 
 (through his assistant adjutant-general) to select the 
 hardest-worked man in a garrison and make him judge- 
 advocate of a general court, just that identical hang-for- 
 a-sheep-as-a-lamb style of argument picked us out when 
 adjutant and plunged us into an abyss of misery that, 
 could it have been foreseen, would have led to our resig¬ 
 nation on the spot. 
 
 We were away up near the Platte when it began, so 
 easily, so innocently, yet insidiously, as every other 
 diabolism begins, that no human soul could have fore¬ 
 told the sequel. “ Mr. X.,” said the colonel, one bright 
 June afternoon, “we march early day after to-morrow, 
 and the quartermaster wants arms for his teamsters; 
 then we’ve got to arm these scouts,—yes, and mount 
 them; there’s Bill and Louis Sans something and Sioux 
 Pete, and—well, a whole raft of ’em. We’ve got to fit 
 ’em all out.” 
 
THE ORDNANCE OFFICER. 
 
 35 
 
 Mr. X. replied that he had nothing but the arms and 
 horse equipments of the non-commissioned staff and 
 band, all in use, but added, with a wisdom beyond his 
 years, “ However, colonel, the quartermaster is in at the 
 fort now; all these men are on his papers, and they are 
 with him drawing rations. Why can’t he draw arms, 
 equipments, and all that right there ? The commanding 
 officer will issue on your order as district commander.” 
 
 “So he could,” says the colonel, reflectively; “but he 
 says he’d rather you’d do it.” 
 
 “ Undoubtedly,” replies Mr. X. “ There isn’t an officer 
 in the army or out of it that wouldn’t; it’s like the best 
 place to have a boil. But I want to get those regimental 
 returns started as soon as we get in.” 
 
 “You won’t, then. I ordered every kind of desk and 
 paper left back at Cheyenne; we’re stripped for action. 
 Tell you what: you just issue orders appointing yourself 
 ordnance officer of the Black Hills column, and get a 
 regular outfit of what we need. That’ll fix it.” And, 
 with the cheerful consciousness of having done his whole 
 duty and relieved himself of a burden, the colonel turns 
 in for a nap. 
 
 Mr. X. obeyed orders, issued the order signed by him¬ 
 self as acting assistant adjutant-general, then made a 
 modest computation of what would be needed. Next day 
 at breakfast time he showed it to the colonel, who cheer¬ 
 ily remarked, “ Oh, didn’t I tell you ? I fixed all that. 
 We’re going to have a rousing campaign, and we’ve got 
 to have an abundant supply. It’ll all be out this after¬ 
 noon, invoiced to me, but you sign the receipts. Then 
 bust into it and equip everybody soon as you can. 
 Here’s the two doctors, and some more scouts; and old 
 
36 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 Stamper, the paymaster, he’s going, too, and Plodder and 
 Hoofit, of the infantry. Fit ’em all out.” 
 
 Mr. X.’s appetite for his breakfast left him suddenly. 
 “ In for a penny, in for a pound,” quoth he. 
 
 Not until 4 p.m. did “the stuff” arrive at camp, and to 
 X.’s unutterable horror three huge wagon-loads of bales 
 and boxes were dumped around his tent and a brace of 
 receipts, longer even than his face, were presented for his 
 signature. 
 
 “ You don’t mean this is all for me ?” he gasped. 
 
 “ Thim’s the orders,” was the comprehensive reply, 
 and as scouts, teamsters, doctors, and “ doughboys” had 
 been waiting for hours for the promised equipment, 
 Mr. X. had no alternative. With a few strokes of the 
 pen he took the plunge into a purgatory which, begin¬ 
 ning with the summer of the Centennial year, has held 
 him in torment ever since, and only a merciful Providence 
 can tell when he may hope for release. 
 
 Just then the colonel rode into camp. “ Issued those 
 things yet, X. ? I want you to write some dispatches.” 
 
 “ Here are the things, sir,” said X., with a gulp, 
 “ only just come, but I’ll write dispatches from now till— 
 well, if you’ll only hand that mountain of misery to 
 somebody else.” 
 
 “ There ain’t another man, X. You’ll have to do it. 
 The clerk can write the letters.” 
 
 It is now 4.45 ; there are some twenty-odd parties 
 waiting for supplies. X. hurriedly summons a soldier, 
 whom the colonel designates as the proper man to assist 
 him as clerk, and pitches in. X. takes the memoranda in 
 his note-book, and the clerk hands out the items. Rifles 
 to the teamsters, rifles and revolvers to wagon-masters, 
 
THE ORDNANCE OFFICER. 
 
 37 
 
 arms and horse equipments to the doctors and officers 
 who are to “ go along,” ammunition to everybody. The 
 number on each arm is carefully noted opposite each 
 man’s name. It is dark when they are supplied, and, 
 meantime, X., being adjutant, has had to go off to guard¬ 
 mounting and to obey two summonses from the colonel, 
 Mr. Plodder, of the infantry, obligingly supplying his 
 place in his absence. 
 
 Suddenly Captain Snaffle appears. “ X., why the mis¬ 
 chief didn’t you let me know you were issuing ordnance ? 
 I haven’t a decent lariat or side-line left in my com¬ 
 pany.” 
 
 “There, X., don’t you see?” says the colonel, trium¬ 
 phantly ; “ I told you we’d want all these things. Now, 
 I’ve no doubt most of the other companies are in the 
 same fix.” 
 
 It won’t do for X. to say that the time that should have 
 been attended to was the ten days we lay alongside a big 
 ordnance depot at Cheyenne, where each captain could 
 have supplied his company, and he well-nigh bites his 
 tongue in two in his endeavor to hold it in. 
 
 Now, as adjutant, X. issues orders to the company 
 commanders to draw at once from the ordnance officer 
 of the Black Hills column such articles as may be abso¬ 
 lutely necessary to equip his company, by order of the 
 colonel, and sends it round through the dimly-lighted 
 camp. Snaffle’s first sergeant promptly appears with the 
 following: “Wanted, 38 lariats, 27 side-lines, 12 halters 
 and straps, 8 curb-bridles, 15 saddle-blankets, 4 saddles 
 complete,” and behind him follow six soldiers, who dump 
 an indistinguishable mass of “ truck” in front of the 
 adjutant’s tent. 
 
 4 
 
38 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 “ What’s all this, sergeant ?” 
 
 “ Worn-out stuff, sir, the captain said I was to turn in 
 to the adjutant and get his receipt.” 
 
 X. springs to his feet with an expletive. “ Where is 
 the captain ?” 
 
 “ Gone away to the fort, sir ; him and the colonel rode 
 in together half an hour ago.” 
 
 It is now 9 p.m. We are to march at four in the morn¬ 
 ing. The orderly sent around with the order comes back 
 saying he “ could only find one captain, Stand; the rest 
 were all up at the post saying good-by, and the first 
 sergeants and men had all turned in.” 
 
 “ I’ll give you the new stores because I’m ordered to,” 
 says X. to the sergeant; “ but as for taking charge of all 
 your unserviceable truck, it can’t be done.” And the 
 sergeant and his party go off laden with the new and the 
 old, just as Captain Stand himself appears with his ser¬ 
 geant and a heavily-laden party. Their wants are the 
 same as Snaffle’s, and it takes another half-hour to dis¬ 
 pose of them in a similar manner, only Stand says he’s 
 going right in to the colonel himself and get X. ordered 
 to receive his unserviceable stuff. " It can’t be taken 
 along,” he says, not illogically. 
 
 He does go, and when he gets back to camp at mid¬ 
 night he brings a scrawl from the colonel to poor X. 
 bidding him receipt to all the company commanders for 
 their “ unserviceable stores.” With the view of possibly 
 mitigating his adjutant’s woes, he adds, “ A mere memo¬ 
 randum will do.” Do ! Of course it will,—quite as 
 much damage as an official receipt. 
 
 We are to march at 4 a.m., as has been said before; 
 at 3.30 on the following morning the vicinity of the 
 
THE ORDNANCE OFFICER. 
 
 39 
 
 adjutant’s tent looks like a junk-shop. He himself has 
 had just thirty minutes’sleep, during which time he had 
 a sentry over the piles of boxes and the litters of rope 
 and leather. He is unrefreshed and even more aggrieved, 
 for all the stuff is not in. Companies “ O” and “ S,” whose 
 captains had protracted their leave-taking until near re¬ 
 veille, are still to be heard from. 
 
 The colonel emerges from his tent brisk and cheery. 
 “ Great Caesar’s ghost, X.! What have you got here ?” 
 
 “ Haven’t had time to find out yet. There’s more to 
 come, sir,” is the adjutant’s mournful response; and at 
 the moment, as everybody else is snatching a hurried 
 breakfast, the delegations from “ O” and “ S” arrive with 
 their demands and contributions, and the notes of the 
 “ general” have sounded and tents been struck ere the 
 adjutant has settled their hash,—he has had none of his 
 own. 
 
 “ Sound ‘ boots and saddles,’ ” says the colonel, once 
 more appearing. “ You will go with the advance-guard, 
 X. Of course you want to map the country towards the 
 Cheyenne River.” 
 
 “ Of course I want to, colonel; but-” And, im¬ 
 
 petuously it must be said, poor X. sets forth that here’s 
 enough ordnance to stop his pay for ten years if it isn’t 
 cared for. 
 
 The colonel checks him impressively. “ Now, my dear 
 young friend, don’t get agitated. I’ve seen a heap more 
 service than you have. You needn’t trouble yourself a 
 bit.. Simply write an order to the commanding officer at 
 the fort to receipt to you for the whole thing. Then make 
 out your pencil memoranda, call upon the quartermaster 
 for wagons, send your clerk in with it. There’s the thing 
 
40 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 in a nutshell. Now, first write an order for Captain 
 Munger with ‘ P’ company to remain here at camp,” 
 etc., etc. 
 
 It sounded soothing as—but this is no place for the 
 poetic. Let us see how it worked. The “ pencil memo¬ 
 randa” and orders were soon made out, but not before 
 the colonel with his command had started. The quarter¬ 
 master was called upon for three wagons to carry 
 the things back to the fort. “ Three wagons! Good 
 God! X., Fve got to leave stores behind as it is! I’m 
 just going after the colonel now hard as I can to tell him.” 
 
 “ Then say for me that all my ordnance is here on the 
 open prairie without a guard, and I can’t leave it until he 
 sends relief!” shouts poor X., in desperation, while Pepper, 
 the clerk, stands holding their horses. In twenty minutes 
 the quartermaster is back, black in the face with wrath. 
 “ Why in perdition,” he wants to know, “ did X. get so 
 much d—d stuff?” and then, with much interspersion of 
 profanity, tells him that he is ordered to unload two 
 wagons, send all the ordnance back to the storehouse in 
 charge of Pepper, who was to return at once with the 
 wagons, reload, and be sure and get to camp that night. 
 “ As for you, X., he says, ‘ Come on.’ ” 
 
 The adjutant hands the orders and memoranda over to 
 Pepper, bids him do his best, and, putting spurs to his 
 horse, after a hard ride rejoins the colonel. The latter 
 is savage about something, and receives him with, " I’ve 
 needed you a dozen times here. You ought to have had 
 that ordnance business finished last night.” 
 
 That night we camp at Rawhide Butte, twenty-five 
 miles away, and after dark in comes Pepper. “ Did you 
 get receipts ?” 
 
THE ORDNANCE OFFICER. 
 
 41 
 
 “ I did for the new stuff, sir; but for all that load of 
 old truck the ordnance-sergeant wouldn’t take it, sir; 
 said he had positive orders not to.” 
 
 “ Did you show him the orders of the district com¬ 
 mander ?” 
 
 “ Yes, sir; but he said he’d have to wait till the com¬ 
 manding officer got up,—that’d be eight or nine o’clock,— 
 an’ my orders from the quartermaster was to come right 
 back wid the wagons, sir, an’-” 
 
 “And didn’t you bring the unserviceable with you?” 
 says X., sepulchrally. 
 
 “ No, sir. I couldn’t, sir : the quartermaster said I was 
 to get right back and load up his things or they’d be 
 stolen ; and them was his wagons, so I had to leave the 
 stuff at the storehouse.” 
 
 “ Inside or outside ?” 
 
 “ Well, sir, outside, a’course; the sergeant he was mad 
 at bein’ waked up at that hour, and-” 
 
 “ That will do, Pepper.” And X. turns away to have 
 it out with the quartermaster. 
 
 To cut short that initial experience, it is needless to 
 say that when the count of that junk was made by the 
 officials at the fort there was a shortage of articles, the 
 money value of which (new) amounted to $572.33, and 
 X., through subsequent wanderings, never found out 
 what became of them. 
 
 We hunted Indians awhile along the base of the Black 
 Hills. Then came tidings which brought us in to Fet- 
 terman, where vast accessions of officers, recruits, and 
 horses joined and marched Big Hornwards with us. A 
 new colonel had taken command, and to meet the emer¬ 
 gency ordnance stores had been ordered by telegraph 
 
42 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 from department head-quarters, and Mr. X. woke one 
 morning to find himself responsible for three hundred 
 more bridles, saddles, and halters, five hundred more 
 blankets, side-lines, lariats, etc., besides one hundred re¬ 
 volvers and no end of ammunition. 
 
 “ Mount all the infantry recruits,” said the colonel. 
 Then came innumerable new doctors, scouts, teamsters, 
 wagon-masters. “ Supply them all,” was the order. 
 
 We reached Goose Creek, at the head-waters of the 
 Tongue, and there was General Crook, with a large com¬ 
 mand, only waiting for our coming to launch forth and 
 give battle to the hostiles over on the Rosebud, forty 
 miles away. All one day was spent in getting ready, 
 and our adjutant ordnance officer did not have time to 
 call his soul his own. 
 
 “ Get out your boxes,” was the order. “ Every officer 
 of the three regiments is to go mounted. Give to each a 
 saddle, bridle, blanket, lariat, pistol,—anything he wants, 
 —and take his mem. receipt.” And while X. was doing 
 it, and writing orders for his colonel between times, and 
 trying to scribble some few brief lines to the anxious 
 ones far away in Eastern homes, there came a host of 
 company commanders from other cavalry regiments, 
 hungry for new equipments, correspondingly eager to 
 get rid of the old. X. appeals to the adjutant-general 
 of the entire command. 
 
 “ Fit ’em out all you can,” says that energetic official 
 “ We just want to get this crowd into fighting shape 
 quick, and then we’ll waltz over to the Rosebud and get 
 blood by the bucketful.” So more boxes are hacked to 
 pieces, and for hours officers and men of three regiments 
 of cavalry are going away to distant bivouacs laden with 
 
THE ORDNANCE OFFICER. 
 
 43 
 
 new equipments and coming back bowed down with junk. 
 It is not improbable that on that August afternoon X. 
 receipted for a thousand pieces of old rope as so many 
 unserviceable lariats. He and Pepper were well-nigh 
 distracted. Even the newspaper correspondents—some 
 of them—had to be provided with saddles or blankets. 
 Even the scouts who for years past had been proud of 
 their old calibre 5o’s came in with authority to swap 
 them for new 45’s, “temporarily, of course,” said the 
 order; but who that ever knew a frontiersman would bet 
 a bean on X.’s chances of getting those 45’s back “after 
 the battle was over” ? 
 
 (He didn’t. It may as well be told here. Some scouts 
 were discharged on the Yellowstone when X. was in the 
 Black Hills. Some deserted in the Black Hills when X. 
 was on the Yellowstone. Some, like California Joe, Blue 
 Peter, and one other reprobate, shot one another to death 
 in private rows over poker, and nobody ever could find 
 their arms. One, and one only, was killed in manly, 
 open attack on the foe, and for three months what became 
 of his gun was a mystery; then it was found in posses¬ 
 sion of a discharged soldier, who had bought it from— 
 but this, as the novelists say, is anticipating.) 
 
 A glorious morning was the 5th of August, and a fine 
 array the Big Horn and Yellowstone expedition pre¬ 
 sented as, stripped for combat, it sallied forth to battle. 
 Late the night before, X. had sought the adjutant-general 
 again. “I’ve got about forty thousand dollars’ worth 
 of ordnance left yet, sir; I must have a guard for it. 
 Excuse my mentioning such a trifle; but even that 
 amount would make a serious hole in my stipend.” 
 
 “ Why, hang it all, X., just bundle it into the wagons. 
 
44 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 They are all to be left here. We won’t be gone six days. 
 We’re just going to have one rousing old rattler of a 
 tussle with these hostyles, and then we’ll come back 
 here and straighten out. Don’t you see ?” 
 
 It was alluring, of course, but not so reassuring. How¬ 
 ever, an order was obtained that the ordnance stores 
 should be stowed in wagons designated for the purpose. 
 All the wagon-masters, teamsters, some doctors, etc., 
 were to remain behind; but as adjutant of his regiment it 
 wasn’t to be expected that Mr. X. could hang back, even 
 to guard that incubus of ordnance stores, when his regi¬ 
 ment was going into action. The command started out 
 buoyantly, with four days’ rations in the haversacks, and 
 enough to make up ten days in all on the pack-mules. 
 X. went with them, and never set eyes on that ordnance 
 again until ten weeks after , when what was left of it was 
 trundled into his camp in the Black Hills. 
 
 It seems that we did not find the Indians over on the 
 Rosebud. They were a little farther on by the time we 
 got there, and a good deal farther on by the time we got 
 to the next place. They led us a dance of eighteen 
 hundred miles that summer and fall, and many a time 
 did X. find himself wondering how it fared with that ord¬ 
 nance. By the 1st of September he was responsible for 
 property scattered all over that portion of the continent 
 bounded by the Missouri, the Platte, and the Rockies. 
 
 Eventually these four or five hundred wagons moved 
 round from the Big Horn by way of Reno, Fetterman, 
 Laramie, and Hat Creek to the Hills, where they met 
 us. Meantime, whenever a teamster lost his lariat, or 
 wanted side-lines or a halter, or perchance a blanket or 
 two, as the nights were growing colder, all he had to do 
 
THE ORDNANCE OFFICER. 
 
 45 
 
 was to go and help himself. Everything had been boxed 
 up at the last moment at Goose Creek, but there wasn’t 
 an unopened box when they got to the Hills. Of course 
 the tacit and honorable understanding which obtains 
 among these gentry provided that they were to return 
 these things; but as some got drunk and were left 
 behind at Reno, and others got drunk and were dis¬ 
 charged at Fetterman, and others got drunk and killed 
 somebody at Laramie, they did not all remember such a 
 trifle, and the same may be said of their arms. 
 
 When the Big Horn and Yellowstone expedition 
 reached the northern Black Hills in September, about 
 one-third of its horses were gone, left dead with ex¬ 
 haustion and starvation on the bleak prairies. As a rule, 
 the saddle and “ kit” was abandoned at the same time, as 
 there were no wagons to put them in. When we started 
 from the Belle Fourche to march southward, the general 
 had succeeded in hiring a motley array of miners’ teams 
 to carry along rations, wounded officers, sick soldiers, 
 and a beggarly batch of Indian prisoners. 
 
 One morning, as the horses were still dropping by 
 scores, X. came suddenly upon a holocaust of saddles, 
 bridles, and other cavalry equipments. A sergeant and 
 some men had heaped them in a huge pyramid and were 
 working hard to make them burn. “ What does this 
 mean ?” said he. 
 
 “ Quartermaster’s orders,” said the sergeant. “ Aban¬ 
 doned property; somebody ordered it fired, sir.” 
 
 X. thought of his tempting stores so many hundred 
 miles away, and a bright thought struck him ; he had seen 
 an empty wagon a short distance back, and hailing the 
 driver, asked him where he was bound. “ Damfino,”said 
 
46 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 the Black-Hiller. “ Quartermaster hired me yesterday 
 on the Whitewood and told me to come along; but I 
 reckon he’s clean forgot me. I ain’t had a thing to do.” 
 
 In ten minutes X. had that wagon loaded up with every 
 kind of horse equipment except blankets; none of them 
 had been left, for the nights were frosty and our men were 
 suffering keenly. An old cavalry officer hailed him on 
 seeing his occupation to inquire what he was doing. 
 “ Taking it up,” said X. “ There’s no telling how short 
 I’ll be at the end of this campaign.” 
 
 “ Well,” said the veteran, “ go ahead if it’s to cover a 
 shortage; but if you think that by picking up and turn¬ 
 ing in a few dozen saddles the ordnance people will let 
 you off a few dozen side-lines, you’re ’way off. If you 
 were to save them a million dollars’ worth of property in 
 ten years’ service and come out short a nickel on your 
 own account, they’d grind it out of you ; that’s my ex¬ 
 perience.” 
 
 However, the wagon-load went far to balance the deficit 
 on the Platte, and X. was enabled to take up and turn in 
 some thirty-seven curb-bridles at Red Cloud later on; 
 but then teamsters had no special use for curb-bridles, 
 and of all the items which had been stored in the wagons 
 at Goose Creek, curb-bridles seemed to be the only one 
 upon which heavy drafts had not been made. 
 
 Now, the question was, how to recover those missing 
 articles. At Goose Creek, by the directions of the ad¬ 
 jutant-general, the stores had been placed in charge of 
 the wagon-master of the train. X. sent for him and he 
 
 came,—an entirely new man. “ Where’s-?” “ Him ? 
 
 oh ! he was discharged at Reno. Leastwise I’ve been 
 told so. I didn’t come in charge of this train till they 
 
THE ORDNANCE OFFICER. 
 
 4 7 
 
 got to Laramie.” That hope proved delusive. Next day 
 X. tried the chief quartermaster. He was all courtesy 
 and business, would do anything. X. suggested inspect¬ 
 ing the five hundred odd teamsters and taking away 
 every new side-line, lariat, etc. It started in one corral, 
 and an irate regimental quartermaster had it stopped in 
 no time. “ He’d got those things himself at Fetterman.” 
 By the time the inspectors got to the other corrals nothing 
 was to be found, old or new. Next day came orders to 
 prepare for a new campaign or scout, and once again X. 
 spent two days reissuing to the cavalry and receiving 
 their used-up stuff by order. This scout amounted to 
 nothing and was soon over, and, once in at Red Cloud, 
 X. obtained authority to turn in all the stores appertain¬ 
 ing to the Big Horn and Yellowstone expedition. 
 
 Several wagon-loads were duly transferred at the maga¬ 
 zine, and with all this burden off his mind X. gleefully 
 looked at his memoranda only to find himself deep in 
 the mire as ever, for, scattered all over the vast fields of 
 our operations, were quantities of arms, horse equip¬ 
 ments, etc., issued to officers, scouts, guides, teamsters, 
 and the like, and no end of blankets, side-lines, lariats, and 
 picket-pins, for which he had no vouchers whatsoever. 
 
 Mr. Plodder, of the infantry, who had obliginglyassisted 
 him the opening night on the Platte, volunteered an ex¬ 
 planation which in very small degree accounted for the 
 shortage in the matter of lariats. “ You see, X., so many 
 men came along who wanted a * halter shank’ that night, 
 and if those rope things weren’t halter shanks I didn’t 
 know what they were.” This was by no means consol¬ 
 atory, though a number of cavalry officers appeared to 
 derive an immense amount of fun therefrom. 
 
48 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 The expedition broke up at Red Cloud and scattered 
 all over the department. With some six companies of 
 the regiment, X. marched into a big post on the Union 
 Pacific. The colonel was East on leave, the major was 
 in command and only waiting for the return of some 
 other field-officers to go on leave himself. An old colonel 
 of cavalry was in command of the post when we arrived, 
 and he was only waiting for our coming to take his de¬ 
 parture on the six months’ leave then burning in his 
 pocket. War Department orders had made post com¬ 
 manders the ordnance officers of their posts, and as such 
 the old colonel informed our major that all the papers 
 were made out and he was ready to transfer at once. 
 His family were all in New York to sail on the steamer 
 of a certain date, and he must be there to meet them. 
 Our major explained that he too was expecting leave 
 every day, that his colonel would soon be back, etc., but 
 after some skirmising a result was arrived at satisfactory 
 to them both. Mr. X. was hereby appointed ordnance 
 officer of the post, and would relieve Colonel Blank at 
 once. Now, X. knew very well that War Department 
 orders made post commanders alone the parties respon¬ 
 sible for ordnance and ordnance stores. “ But,” said the 
 major, ” the colonel will take charge as soon as he 
 arrives, and, as you see, it is absolutely necessary for 
 Colonel Blank to get away at once.” The order was 
 issued, and then came the transfer. In less than a fort¬ 
 night X. had receipted for a whole arsenal. 
 
 In an ordinary wooden building, surrounded by equally 
 inflammable quartermaster’s and commissary storehouses, 
 were piled tier on tier of boxes containing equipments, 
 infantry and cavalry, of every possible description. 
 
THE ORDNANCE OFFICER. 49 
 
 Another room of the same size was equally full of arms 
 and ammunition. 
 
 “ The building is absolutely unfit for the purpose,” said 
 X.’s predecessor. “ It has been condemned by a board 
 of survey, and I have represented the great exposure and 
 risk in having so many valuable stores in such a place, 
 but all to no purpose.” Everything was in as good order 
 as such a jam could be in a building not more than sixty 
 by twenty-five; and the colonel, in turning over, said to 
 X., “You will find our old ordnance-sergeant one of the 
 most faithful men that ever lived. His word is truth 
 itself.” 
 
 Just how or why so large an accumulation of stores 
 had been sent to this particular post there was no time to 
 explain. Our own colonel came back in a fortnight. X. 
 informed him of the situation, showed him the huge array 
 of stores, daily augmented by fresh arrivals from Rock 
 Island; the colonel pronounced it an imposition, said 
 that if it were intended to make a supply depot of the 
 fort he would insist on having a regular ordnance officer 
 stationed there, and would write at once and make appli¬ 
 cation ; which he probably did, for the ordnance officer 
 arrived seventeen months afterwards. “ Meantime, Mr. 
 X.,” said he, “you will continue in charge.” 
 
 This is how X. came to be running an arsenal and 
 adjutant’s office at one and the same time. We have 
 seen something of how the latter worked; now for the 
 arsenal. 
 
 It became apparent within a few days that the ordnance 
 
 storehouse of Fort-was intended as a depot of supply 
 
 for the entire department of the Platte and a good deal 
 
 outside of it. How very much easier, simpler, more sys- 
 C d 5 
 
50 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 tematic it was for the commanding officer at Rock Island, 
 with his array of instructed clerks and packers, to ship 
 in bulk, three or four hundred at a time, the various kinds 
 of ordnance stores that might be required on the frontier 
 to the central post of that department! What mattered 
 it to the ordnance department that the labor of unpacking 
 and repacking, distribution, and the infinite clerical labor 
 required should fall upon one already overworked cavalry 
 subaltern and one faithful old sergeant ? What mattered 
 it that half the stores thus shipped had to be sent back 
 in smaller lots over much of the road they had traveled 
 in supplying the requisitions from interior posts, thus 
 doubling the cost of transportation ? Yet this is exactly 
 what did occur, and for eighteen months the whole work 
 of supplying that large and most needy department fell 
 upon the shoulders of that old sergeant, for never a bit 
 of help did we get except an occasional man to assist in 
 packing or unloading. 
 
 All the troops of General Crook’s command had been 
 for months in the field, and without exception had to be 
 resupplied company by company. Every day of the week 
 brought requisitions from department head-quarters “ to 
 
 be filled from the stores at Fort-.” Every week 
 
 brought new loads of supplies from Rock Island, and, not¬ 
 withstanding the fact that we were constantly shipping, 
 by the end of December our storehouse was overflowing. 
 In the item of ammunition there were over six hundred 
 thousand rounds, and the colonel, alarmed at having such 
 a prospective volcano in our midst, ordered it removed 
 to the magazine. 
 
 Being built for the convenience of the post, this maga¬ 
 zine had been located exactly a mile and a half away 
 
THE ORDNANCE OFFICER. 
 
 51 
 
 and out on the open prairie. It was a brick shell, with 
 a light roof and heavy door, evidently designed to oppose 
 little resistance to an explosion from within or “ pros¬ 
 pectors” from without, but while it might be unsafe, the 
 adjutant (acting ordnance officer) was glad to have addi¬ 
 tional room in the storehouses, where now there were in 
 the neighborhood of a thousand sets of infantry and 
 cavalry equipments. The colonel ordered a guard for 
 the magazine, but after a week of suffering through 
 bleak, wintry, freezing nights the men looked so piteous 
 at the detail for magazine-guard that he took it off. Then 
 it was robbed. A party of citizens from the neighboring 
 town sallied forth one bitter cold night and helped them¬ 
 selves to what they could carry. X. tracked them through 
 the snow back to town on the following day, and after 
 some detective work succeeded in securing the arrest of 
 one of the parties who had* a lot of the stolen property 
 in his cellar. He was nabbed by the United States mar¬ 
 shal and duly tried before a jury of his peers. Just how 
 many of that intelligent jury were concerned in the rob¬ 
 bery itself is impossible to say, but the verdict was not 
 guilty ; and it may be parenthetically remarked that the 
 verdict of every jury in that enlightened borough in every 
 case where a civilian was arraigned for crimes against the 
 life or property of Uncle Sam’s retainers, were it stealing 
 a pistol, running off a horse, or murdering a soldier in 
 cold blood, the verdict was similarly “ not guilty.” 
 
 The guard was again placed over the magazine, duly 
 supplied with a “ banked” tent and abundant fuel; then, 
 to make room in the storehouses at the post, we moved 
 some of the arms down to the magazine and were about 
 straightening out the storehouses a second time when the 
 
52 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 troops commenced drifting in from Mackenzie’s winter 
 raid against the Cheyennes, and each command as it 
 arrived deposited a wagon-load or more of used-up 
 saddles, halters, side-lines, lariats, etc., and demanded 
 receipts. In less than three weeks the east storeroom 
 looked like ten junk-shops rolled into one. 
 
 Meantime, we got into a row with the depot quarter¬ 
 master. It usually happened that his wagons arrived 
 with a load of ordnance just as “boots and saddles” was 
 sounding for battalion drill, and the teamsters would 
 come to X. for his receipts just as that much badgered 
 ordnance officer, in his capacity as adjutant, was riding 
 forth to form the line. “ Mr. X.,” said the quartermaster, 
 “ you keep my men waiting there day after day for 
 several hours, and it’s got to be stopped.” X. tells him 
 by all means to stop it, which doesn’t satisfy the quarter¬ 
 master somehow, and he writes officially to the colonel 
 commanding to complain that his ordnance officer is 
 neglecting his business and obstructing the public service 
 by detaining quartermaster teams. The colonel knows 
 perfectly well that his adjutant is “on the jump” from 
 daybreak until—well, he doesn't begin to know how long, 
 but all the morning at any rate, yet he summons him to 
 hear what the quartermaster’s complaints are. X. sug¬ 
 gests that a good way out of it would be to relieve him 
 from duty as an ordnance officer and put some one in 
 who could devote twenty hours out of twenty-four to the 
 matter. The colonel again concludes that it is an impo¬ 
 sition, and decides to write another letter requesting the 
 detail of a regular ordnance officer, X. meantime to re¬ 
 main in charge and do the best he can. 
 
 All this time there is that back business of the Big 
 
THE ORDNANCE OFFICER. 
 
 53 
 
 Horn expedition to settle up, and X. is writing letters all 
 over the country to officers who were connected there¬ 
 with, in the desperately hopeless undertaking of getting 
 possession of or receipts for the arms and equipments 
 issued during the campaign to all manner of people, who 
 were not to be found at Red Cloud and Laramie when we 
 dissolved. It was a fortune in postage-stamps and time, 
 but month by month the accountability was lessened, 
 and X. began to feel vaguely encouraged. One day it 
 transpired that a discharged soldier had a new calibre 45 
 rifle. He was overhauled and questioned as to how he 
 obtained it, and frankly stated that he had bought it from 
 Pepper. This was a bombshell in the camp. Next it 
 transpired that Pepper had forged his colonel’s name to 
 an application for his (Pepper’s) discharge, on the ground 
 of habitual intemperance, and Pepper, who had been 
 under guard, was remanded to closer confinement, with a 
 sentinel to accompany every movement of his outside 
 the guard-house. Next, Pepper skipped away from the 
 sentinel, and from that time to this has succeeded in ' 
 evading recapture. The sentinel was tried by general 
 court, but proved that he fired seven shots at the retreating 
 form of Pepper, who could run like a deer, and the court 
 was satisfied. 
 
 Then, in the dead of night, some miscreants ran a 
 wagon up to the storehouses, effected an entrance into the 
 quartermaster’s shanty and broke through the partition 
 between that and the ordnance-rooms, and loaded up 
 with such things as they could lay hands on. They 
 were evidently in search of ammunition, and evidently 
 too disturbed and hurried in their search, for they mis¬ 
 took boxes of picket-pins for metallic cartridges, and 
 
 5 * 
 
54 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 hauled off several boxes of those useless pegs. It was 
 some comfort to X. to reflect how they must have sworn 
 when they discovered their blunder. “ Where was your 
 sentinel ?” we hear some “ stalwart” exclaim. Bless your 
 heart, sir, he was right there, if his statement could be 
 believed; but then, you see, he was guarding a huge 
 coal-shed, a commissary storehouse, two quartermaster’s 
 storehouses, a saddler’s shop, and some few loads of hay, 
 and the night was dark as pitch. “ He didn’t see nor 
 hear nuthin’.” Neither did the other two. 
 
 Boards of survey were running, three or four at a time, 
 all that winter. They relieved X. So did the depart¬ 
 ment commander, and so eventually did the ordnance 
 department; but not without a kick or two. 
 
 Once X. was ordered to “ take up” again certain items 
 which a board of survey had recommended that he be 
 authorized, and that the department commander had 
 authorized him, to drop, because, said the chief of ord¬ 
 nance, it is not shown that the responsible officer exer¬ 
 cised proper vigilance to prevent loss. This was em¬ 
 barrassing, but eventually the bureau yielded the point, 
 “ under the circumstances,” and the items remained 
 dropped. 
 
 Spring came, so did the summer of ’77, and all this 
 time stores were coming too, and, in smaller parcels, 
 going day after day, but no sign of relief was manifest. 
 In July the great railroad riots took place, and the colo¬ 
 nel was ordered eastward by first train to assume com¬ 
 mand of the troops collecting at an important point, and 
 the colonel ordered his adjutant to go with him. So, 
 with parting injunctions to the faithful old sergeant to 
 take charge in his absence, and have Captain Curbit sign 
 
THE ORDNANCE OFFICER. 
 
 55 
 
 all invoices “ for Lieutenant X.,” the ordnance officer 
 turned his back on more than a fortune in stores, rushed 
 off with his chief, and was gone three weeks. Returning 
 and finding everything working smoothly, thanks to the 
 ceaseless care and attention of his invaluable ally, the 
 sergeant, he returned to his work of straightening out 
 the Big Horn papers, when again came telegraphic 
 orders sending colonel and everybody into the far North¬ 
 west, by first train, after the Nez Perces. Once more 
 the spectacle was presented of the ordnance officer 
 abandoning his thousands and thousands of dollars’ 
 worth of stores in obedience to his orders, trusting 
 everything to Providence and that crown-jewel of a ser¬ 
 geant, and this time he was gone three months. How 
 could a man in the Yellowstone Park be held responsi¬ 
 ble for property in Southern Wyoming ? “ He should 
 
 have transferred it before starting,” your critic says. My 
 pragmatical friend, it took a month to transfer that 
 property when the transfer was made, and Mr. X. was 
 ordered to leave “ on first train.” “ Then he oughtn’t to 
 have been appointed in the first place.” That is precisely 
 our opinion. Moreover, we thought from beginning to 
 end of that business that the ordnance department, in 
 establishing that great magazine in the centre of the 
 scene of Indian operations in ’76, should have decorated 
 it with one of its own officers and a squad of assistants 
 to back him. 
 
 Of course there were some comical features in our 
 experience. One of the liveliest cavalrymen in the de¬ 
 partment was the gallant captain of the gray troop of 
 the Second Cavalry. He and his men were always out 
 scouting somewhere, and it so happened that in the 
 
56 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 summer of 1877 he had a mixed armament of Colt’s and 
 Smith & Wesson revolvers in his troop. A short time 
 previous, X. had been ordered to send him five thousand 
 rounds of Coifs revolver ball-cartridges, and did so 
 One blissful June morning the telegraph operator at the 
 post darted in to X. with a dispatch from the chief ord¬ 
 nance officer at Omaha. “ Captain Egan reports that 
 the cartridges you sent him will not fit his pistols. 
 What’s the matter?” Ten minutes after came another 
 from “ Teddy” himself: “ Cannot use the cartridges; all 
 too long.” Then in came the colonel with a dispatch 
 from department head-quarters, and a perturbed expres¬ 
 sion on his face. “ Mr. X., what is the matter with the 
 cartridges sent Captain Egan? The adjutant-general is 
 after us with a sharp stick.” 
 
 X. meantime has summoned the ordnance-sergeant, and 
 that veteran glances over the papers and explains the 
 matter in a dozen words. “He’s been trying to use 
 Colt’s revolver cartridges in his Smith & Wessons, sir,” 
 and so it proved. The “ revolver ball-cartridge” is made 
 to fit both the Colt and the Smith & Wesson, whereas 
 the “ Colt’s revolver ball-cartridge” can be used only in 
 the Colt. This information was telegraphed at once to 
 the captain in the field and the explanation wired to 
 Omaha, but meantime head-quarters had been racked to 
 its foundation at a discovery of so alarming a nature. 
 Dispatches had been sent all over the country to cavalry 
 company commanders directing them to test their car¬ 
 tridges in Smith & Wesson pistols and report, and not¬ 
 withstanding our explanation an aide-de-camp was hurried 
 out to investigate; he arrived next day, looked at the 
 two pistols and two styles of cartridges, remarked that 
 
THE ORDNANCE OFFICER. 
 
 57 
 
 it reminded him of the profound philosopher who had 
 two holes cut in his door for his cats, a big hole for the 
 big cat and a little hole for the other, and went back to 
 Omaha. Shortly afterwards all Smith & Wesson pistols 
 were called in and none but Colt’s issued. 
 
 We were constantly in receipt of telegraphic orders to 
 ship stores at once to all manner of remote posts. One 
 morning early came two dispatches: the first saying, 
 “ Ship by express , first train, to commanding officer Com¬ 
 pany -, Second Cavalry,” so many carbines, slings, 
 
 belts, pouches, etc., and half an hour afterwards a similar 
 message to send just about the same things to the com¬ 
 manding officer of another company, in all comprising 
 arms, ammunition, and equipments for some fifty men. 
 Mr. X. and his sergeant pitched in with vim, an orderly 
 was hurried down to the depot to secure the co-operation 
 of the quartermaster’s teams and the express company, 
 and by noon, when the Union Pacific train rolled in from 
 the East, the packing-boxes were at the station to meet 
 it. The proper invoices and receipts went with the 
 property and others by mail to the designated officers, 
 but the end of the quarter came and brought no receipts 
 whatever. X. wrote to the company commanders, then 
 ’way up near the Wind River Valley, and requested that 
 they be sent at once. One of them replied that he didn’t 
 get more than half the things specified in the invoice, 
 and the other said pretty much the same thing, only 
 worse. This wouldn’t do by any means. X. knew that 
 every item on the invoice was in those boxes, and so 
 retorted. Then it transpired that the stores were re¬ 
 quired to arm and equip a lot of recruits going up to 
 join those companies under command of a lieutenant 
 
58 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 who had opened the boxes and distributed the arms, etc., 
 on the railroad. X., therefore, sent him invoices and 
 requested that he receipt, and by and by came the reply, 
 “ Fm not responsible for the stores at all. They were 
 not invoiced to me. I simply, took them to arm my 
 recruits.” And then the gentleman obligingly went on, 
 “ What you want to do is to make out certified invoices 
 and send them in with your papers, etc., if they (com¬ 
 pany commanders) will not receipt.” X. could not see 
 that point at all, and demanded that the officer who took 
 the responsibility of opening and distributing should sign 
 the receipts, but it was six months afterwards before they 
 came, and then only on compulsion. 
 
 At last, seventeen months after Mr. X. was placed 
 temporarily in charge of those ordnance stores, all the 
 real work having been completed, Indian campaigning 
 being virtually over in the department of the Platte, all 
 the troops having been supplied with new equipments to 
 replace those worn out in the service, and the lull in 
 business was enabling the ordnance sergeant to com¬ 
 mence “ straightening out” the contents of the store¬ 
 house, the long-expected official of the ordnance depart¬ 
 ment put in his appearance, and soon after him came 
 the squad of assistants, clerical and otherwise, without 
 which no well-regulated ordnance establishment can 
 be conducted, but which we were compelled to do 
 without. The transfer of property began without delay, 
 and in the course of six weeks Mr. X. stood relieved. 
 He was behind in only one item of any consequence, 
 and away ahead on general average. It is needless to 
 say that the shortage stands charged against him, while 
 there is nothing to his credit. 
 
THE ORDNANCE OFFICER. 
 
 59 
 
 Now, we are painfully conscious that in all this long 
 account of an experience as acting ordnance officer there 
 is nothing entertaining or lively; it is as solemn as a 
 sepulchre, but so was the experience. We are portraying 
 trials and tribulations, and from its inception to the still 
 indefinite end this has been all vexation of spirit.* We 
 look back over those massive monuments of retained 
 papers, and wonder how we ever dared to go to sleep. We 
 recall the constant, the incessant round of duties required 
 of the adjutant from reveille until tattoo, attending morn¬ 
 ing and evening stables, and all drills, besides his office 
 and parade duties, and wonder what a genuine ordnance 
 officer would have said and done under the circumstances. 
 We recall the issue of stores “ on memorandum receipt” 
 under the peaks of the Big Horn and the pines of the 
 Black Hills, and wonder why no ordnance officer was 
 sent with Crook’s command. We met one with Terry 
 on the Yellowstone, but he was only out to see how the 
 equipments worked in the field, had no property respon¬ 
 sibilities, and was as free from care and as buoyant as a 
 cork; but then Terry’s people were housed in comfort, 
 had carpets and barrels of bottled ale in their tents, and 
 could support an ordnance officer, but we poor devils 
 had neither tent nor change of raiment, and hard-tack 
 and bacon were the daily bread of officers and men until 
 we had to come down to horse-meat. Looking back at the 
 depot in charge of which we so unluckily stumbled, and 
 compiling from our papers some figures of the work 
 done, we find that, besides the incalculable worry over 
 minor trifles, we had handled before the arrival of our 
 
 * It was settled some time after the publication of this paper in the 
 United Service. 
 
6o 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 relief the quantity of ordnance and stores tabled here- 
 
 with : 
 
 
 
 
 Received. 
 
 Distributed. 
 
 Rounds of ammunition .... 
 
 1,550,000 
 
 1,054,015 
 
 Rifles and carbines. 
 
 2,304 
 
 1,116 
 
 Revolvers. 
 
 L 754 
 
 755 
 
 Sabres . 
 
 1,664 
 
 728 
 
 Infantry equipments. 
 
 I >543 
 
 L 35 I 
 
 Cartridge-boxes and pouches . 
 
 2,565 
 
 896 
 
 Holsters. 
 
 1,806 
 
 1,146 
 
 Haversacks. 
 
 2,000 
 
 873 
 
 Bridles. 
 
 3,082 
 
 L 979 
 
 Halters and straps. 
 
 i, 9 ” 
 
 1,796 
 
 Lariats. 
 
 2,301 
 
 2,290 
 
 Nose-bags. 
 
 1,300 
 
 672 
 
 Saddles. 
 
 1,069 
 
 962 
 
 Surcingles. 
 
 1,264 
 
 1,082 
 
 Saddle-blankets. 
 
 L 799 
 
 1,776 
 
 Side-lines. 
 
 2,400 
 
 2,184 
 
 We may be in error, but are 
 
 constrained 
 
 to the belief 
 
 that in that table alone the amount of stores is not so 
 trivial as to be beneath the dignity of the ordnance officer 
 de jure , and we are confessedly so pig-headed that to this 
 day we cannot be brought to see the propriety or justice 
 of picking out a cavalry adjutant, requiring him to attend 
 to every item of his own duty in garrison or in the field, 
 and yet to control and become pecuniarily responsible 
 for such an array of ordnance work and ordnance stores 
 as that. 
 
AT WEST POINT. 
 
 61 
 
 AT WEST POINT. 
 
 Now, if you please, those readers who are not yet 
 bored to death with Mr. X.’s tribulations in the roles of 
 adjutant and ordnance officer will follow him back some 
 ten years or more and take a peep at the Military Acad¬ 
 emy during a critical period of its history. It may be 
 objected that what happened to Mr. X. then and there 
 cannot be regarded as a staff affair, and Mr. X. admits 
 the point as well taken; but under the general title of 
 these sketches he had purposed to show some of the 
 troublous experiences of a subaltern when out of his 
 tactical groove in the line of file-closers, and a detail at 
 West Point was one of them. 
 
 Not but that he had more or less of an enjoyable time 
 there. The Academy is by no means an unpleasant 
 station; but in the light of subsequent events Mr. X. 
 cannot help thinking how very much better a time he 
 could have had if mighty experiments were not attempted 
 just at that period. 
 
 To begin with, it was with sentiments of unmixed 
 satisfaction that Mr. X. received, one bright August 
 morning, an intimation from the commandant of cadets 
 that he had applied for him as an assistant in the depart¬ 
 ment of tactics ; and a few days later there came an order 
 in due form directing him to proceed to West Point and 
 report to the superintendent thereof for duty. 
 
 For some years previous Mr. X. had served as a sub- 
 
 6 
 
62 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 altern in a “ swell” light battery under a choleric captain, 
 who was more explosive than the best percussion-shell 
 in the market; then, having served out his apprenticeship 
 in the light, he had been duly transferred to a heavy bat¬ 
 tery, whose commander was as easy-going and lax as the 
 other had been capricious and exacting. The new duties 
 were slow and distasteful after the life and vim of the 
 mounted service, and Mr. X. was wondering how long he 
 could stand it, when the detail reached him. West Point 
 was thronged with visitors when he arrived and found 
 himself, with some twenty new assignments, attending 
 the closing party of the season. 
 
 In something like a fortnight those officers and families 
 who, having been ordered thither during the war, and 
 having been left there ever since, had begun to look upon 
 West Point as a bit of personal property, were well-nigh 
 ready to move out and give place to the new comers. 
 Mr. X. being a second lieutenant, the junior of his de¬ 
 partment and unmarried, was happily relegated to a room 
 in the barracks adjoining the cadet company which he 
 was assigned to command, and consequently could look 
 on in philosophical amusement at the little tiffs and 
 feminine spats which accompanied the movings out and 
 in of the married households. A few weeks more served 
 to accustom him thoroughly to the new and very light 
 duties; and having become a member of the mess, Mr. 
 X. prepared to spend an enjoyable winter. 
 
 Entering the library one sunny September morning, 
 Mr. X. came suddenly upon a group of strangers of 
 martial mien despite the garb of civilians, and, in response 
 to an inquiry, directed the spokesman to the superin¬ 
 tendent’s office. Next, the superintendent’s orderly made 
 
AT WEST POINT. 
 
 6 3 
 
 his appearance with the superintendent’s compliments, 
 and would the lieutenant be so good as to step there a 
 moment. Mr. X. stepped as requested, and found the 
 superintendent affably entertaining the group. “ Oh, 
 gentlemen, let me present my young friend, Captain X.; 
 Sir Francis Famous, Captain X.; Major Freeman, Captain 
 X.; Captain Bellairs, Captain X. I deeply regret, gentle¬ 
 men, that my engagements are such that I cannot accom¬ 
 pany you, and that I knew nothing of your coming; but 
 Captain X. will do the honors for me, I am sure. Captain, 
 these gentlemen are of the British army, and eager to 
 see all that there is at West Point; I have given orders 
 that the buildings and rooms should be opened to you.” 
 And the superintendent smiled sweetly and confidingly 
 upon Mr. X., upon whom he had never lavished more 
 than mere official notice up to that moment. 
 
 Mr. X. accepts his charge, blushing at the unexpected 
 brevet, and presently marshals his transatlantic warriors 
 out of the urbane presence of the commander. He finds 
 the Englishmen pleasant, chatty fellows, full of curiosity 
 and interest, scrupulously returning the salutes of sen¬ 
 tinels, soldiers, and cadets who happen to pass, and 
 touching their hats respectfully as they walk under the 
 flag. X. conducts them through the model-rooms, the 
 drawing-academy, museum, mess- and riding-hall, bar¬ 
 racks, and ordnance-yards, then scrambles with them ’way 
 up to Fort Put, where the view strikes them simultaneously 
 as being awfully jolly, then down again among the bat¬ 
 teries, around “ Flirtation,” and thus having consumed 
 some two or three hours, and being not a little heated 
 and dusty, X. winds up with the cool shades of the 
 officers’ mess, and regales his friends on Bass, brandy 
 
64 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 and water, and cigars. They do it on their side of the 
 water, and expect it here. Presently they are joined by 
 our genial Colonel Bullock and several subalterns, who 
 are duly presented to the trio of British, and invited to 
 join them in refreshments. They add materially to the 
 entertainment and to its final expense, but Mr. X. feels a 
 professional pride in having his guests suitably received; 
 and, as they are obliged to go back to New York by the 
 afternoon train and cannot stay to dinner, they cordially 
 accept his invitation to lunch, and three or four jovial 
 souls among the married officers conclude they would 
 rather lunch informally with the Englishmen at the mess 
 than go home to dinner. 
 
 Now, it must be here explained that, though by no 
 means in its infancy in those days, the officers’ mess at 
 West Point was controlled by a set of rules and regu¬ 
 lations that might have been concocted for the guidance 
 of the pupils of a small boarding-school; and one of 
 those rules was to the effect that any officer who intro¬ 
 duced friends to the mess-table, or invited them to par¬ 
 take of its hospitality, should be charged individually 
 with the cost of their entertainment. Mr. X. knew it 
 perfectly well, and knew also that in the English service 
 there was an especial fund for the entertainment of 
 visitors, and doubtless all foreign officers supposed that 
 the same civilized custom obtained at the Military Acad¬ 
 emy of the United States. However, to go on. When 
 it comes time for the gentlemen of Her Majesty’s service 
 to start for the train, they are duly escorted to the ferry, 
 and depart, evidently delighted with their visit, and pro¬ 
 fessing unbounded hopes of “seeing all you jolly good 
 fellows at the Rag one of these days, you know.’’ 
 
AT WEST POINT. 
 
 65 
 
 About a fortnight after, Mr. X. encounters the superin¬ 
 tendent, who accosts him cheerfully with, “ Oh, Mr. X.; 
 just the man I wanted to see. I’ve had a pleasant letter 
 from Sir Francis Famous, in which he expresses his 
 great appreciation of the courtesies extended to him 
 here, and he desires to be remembered to you. It seems 
 he is a very distinguished cavalry officer, and I am grati¬ 
 fied that we were able to show him so much attention.” 
 Mr. X. mumbles something to the effect that he is 
 charmed to hear it all, and while abstractedly wondering 
 wherein his commander had shown the distinguished 
 cavalryman so much attention, is recalled to his senses 
 by the next remark: “ By the way, he mentions that 
 there are two or three other young fellows of his ac¬ 
 quaintance coming up next week; you just look out for 
 them, will you ? and see that they have a—well, show 
 them all the attention you can.” 
 
 Sure enough, another week brings two more young 
 Britons with honest, sun-tanned faces and a keen zest for 
 sight-seeing. One has been serving in India, the other 
 at Hong-Kong, and together they are “ doing” the United 
 States on long leave. Having first paid their respects to 
 the commanding officer,—that formality which the Eng¬ 
 lish soldier never neglects,—they are affably entertained 
 by that functionary while his orderly hunts up Mr. X., 
 who happens to be on his way to the riding-hall, and 
 thither conducts his new acquaintances, not, however, 
 until he has heard the superintendent express his great 
 regret that previous engagements prevented his inviting 
 them to dine that day, “ but his young friend, Captain X.,” 
 
 etc., to which one of them blushingly murmurs, “ Oh, 
 
 6 * 
 
66 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 thanks, thanks,” and the other, “ Ah—to-morrow, per¬ 
 haps ?” which last the superintendent does not seem to 
 hear. These two are tiptop young soldiers. They are 
 delighted with the cadet riding, but disgusted with the 
 McClellan saddle, which does not seem to suit their cross¬ 
 country seat when they try it; but they go riding with 
 X., and do the rounds of the Point, and are introduced 
 to many of the officers at the mess, and dine there with 
 X. and his friends, where we duly drink Her Majesty’s 
 health in unaccustomed and rather fiery sherry, and when 
 bedtime comes they have accepted the invitations of X. 
 and a brother officer to rough it in the barracks with 
 them ; and so they, too, spend three days or so at the 
 Point, and go off well pleased, at least with what they 
 saw ; and this time X.’s brother officer, a poor infantry 
 sub., insists on sharing expenses. It is not long after 
 this that the superintendent smilingly informs Mr. X., 
 one bright autumn morning, that, in his opinion, “ one 
 good turn deserves another;” and as Mr. X. is wondering 
 what his good turn deserves, the superintendent proceeds 
 to develop a new and entirely original interpretation of 
 the saying. “ You did very nicely by those Englishmen, 
 Mr. X. Now, here is a party of French naval officers 
 
 coming up to-day, and as I know you speak French-” 
 
 “ Indeed, I don’t, sir,” says X. “ Well, everybody says 
 you do; and, at all events, you seem to have more savoir- 
 faire than the others (last month’s mess-bill was a stun¬ 
 ner, thinks Mr. X.; now what will this one be ?), and I 
 will be glad to have you take them in hand. You have 
 nothing to do to prevent it, have you ?” he asks as a 
 clincher; and so Mr. X. becomes the entertainer of half 
 a dozen elaborately polite Frenchmen, who accept the 
 
AT WEST POINT. 67 
 
 supposed hospitality of the mess as freely as that of 
 their own would have been tendered. 
 
 Now, this sort of thing may strike the average reader 
 as a very trivial source of tribulation, but it had its 
 attendant drags, and by and by the thing worked itself 
 into a first-class millstone-around-the-neck. For two 
 mortal years visitors—English, French, German, Aus¬ 
 trian, and Russian—kept arriving at the Academy, and 
 time and again Mr. X. had to listen to the same apology 
 from the superintendent, and the same intimation that 
 his young friend Captain X. would do the honors. Time 
 and again these parties had to be entertained; and, 
 though one thousand dollars a year was placed in the 
 hands of the superintendent for the entertainment of 
 visitors to the Academy, that presumably went to the 
 Board of Visitors in June, and the politicians who voted 
 it when they dropped in for a visit. These were the 
 days when superintendents were not generals, and had 
 no attendant aides-de-camp to help them through the 
 mill, and so Mr. X. was utilized ; and while he could not 
 and would not ask the mess to defray these expenses 
 of entertainment, and while it rarely happened that 
 members thereof came forward and volunteered to share 
 them with him, he soon found, to his ineffable disgust, 
 that there were some two or three men who generally 
 dropped in when foreign visitors were there, who were 
 sure to be presented and to accept invitations to join in 
 the inevitable refreshments, and then to go off and say 
 that that fellow X. was burning his candle at both ends, 
 and would soon find himself swamped. As for the 
 superintendent, it probably never occurred to him that it 
 cost X. a cent. 
 
68 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 X. was somewhat ruefully contemplating a mess-bill 
 and treasurer’s account of the usual dimensions (for him) 
 one morning in early spring-time, when a brother officer 
 of the engineers dropped in for a chat. “ What do you 
 think of the news ?” was the first remark that seemed 
 to possess more than a languid interest for either 
 party. “ Haven’t heard any worth thinking about,” was 
 the reply. “ Didn’t you know two niggers had been 
 appointed cadets?” said one. “No; but I’m not in the 
 least surprised,” said the other. “ Well, it is true; I 
 heard it at the supe’s office ten minutes ago.” “ Supe,” 
 be it known, is the irreverent abbreviative by which the 
 average West Pointer in those days was wont to desig¬ 
 nate the magnate in command. That evening, at mess, 
 the subject came up for discussion during dinner, and so 
 completely had the thing been foreseen, and so utterly 
 was it looked upon as a matter of course, that, except 
 among the very youthful members present, no comment 
 whatever was made. In that party of twenty-five or 
 thirty officers it is probable that few were able to tell 
 anything of the political opinions of their comrades, and 
 there was not a man in the mess who could have classed 
 all of them. Some had been reared in the Democratic 
 faith, more had risen from the ranks of the Republican 
 party ; but among them only one creed was recognized 
 in the days of which this chronicle may treat,—loyalty 
 to the general government. 
 
 Mr. X. does not propose stopping to portray the virtue 
 or credit of the circumstance, but, whatever might have 
 been the individual opinions of the officers on duty at the 
 Military Academy at that time as to the advisability of 
 starting the lately enfranchised in the race for commis- 
 
AT WEST POINT. 
 
 69 
 
 sions in the regular service, they took the fact that repre¬ 
 sentatives were duly entered by proper authority as all- 
 sufficient. As judges, stewards, etc., it was simply their 
 duty to see that this new and very dark horse had a fair 
 show, and the only question in his (Mr. X.’s) mind at 
 this day is whether they did not overdo it. 
 
 There was no discussion at all. The youngsters held 
 their tongues and listened when the few words of advice 
 were spoken by the seniors, and then went off and said 
 no more about it. One officer whose father was a strong 
 pro-slavery man before the war did say, “ Well, it’s a free 
 country. Uncle Sam owns the craft and hires me as one 
 of the crew; I’ll handle any freight he chooses to ship, 
 but he’s loading the old boat down to the guards this 
 trip, sure.” But there wasn’t a man that more conscien¬ 
 tiously strove to do his duty when the “ freight” came 
 than he. There was only one sentiment. It is the 
 nation’s school, and we are here to teach to the best of 
 our ability any and all scholars the nation may send. 
 
 So much for sentiment, now for narration. One bright 
 June morning our burly and vastly popular commandant 
 assembled by order his four company commanders,— 
 “ tactical officers” they used to call us,—and among these 
 was Mr. X. 
 
 On all occasions when it was necessary to be impressive, 
 “ Old Harry” was wont to assume a tragic profundity of 
 voice, an awful solemnity,—severity of mien that to the 
 uninitiated was something superhuman. It would cause 
 a cadet coming into that presence as a culprit for the first 
 time to quake in his shoes, while the little rascals of 
 drummer-boy orderlies, who were used to it, would be so 
 convulsed with suppressed laughter and their efforts to 
 
70 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 keep straight faces that they would half the time bolt 
 from his presence with no idea of the message on which 
 they were sent. It was something that would bring out 
 half the battalion giggling around the company officers’ 
 tents to hear the colonel arraigning his cadet officer of 
 the day. The air was as full of boom, rumble, roar, crash, 
 and bang as Mark Twain’s description of a thunder¬ 
 storm, and yet Mr. X. can recall that when he for the 
 first time listened with stunned faculties to a reprimand 
 administered to him as cadet adjutant, and it was dawning 
 upon his dazed brain that a mistake in the morning re¬ 
 turn of the battalion was a crime akin to forgery, and 
 that his chevrons were to be torn off by the roots in 
 thirty seconds more, all of a sudden the hurricane ceased, 
 a blessed calm stole upon the storm-swept features of the 
 colonel and over the senses of the stripling standing 
 attention before him, and a mild and benignant voice, 
 coming Mr. X. wondered from where, cooed forth, 
 “ There, youngster, that’s all I’ve got to say ; now go off 
 and think no more about it” This was 'way back in cadet 
 days, and in Old Harry’s first year in the commandant’s 
 office. It is five years afterwards that he has summoned 
 us thither again, and though the skies have changed, 
 grim-visaged war smoothed his wrinkled front, the genial, 
 winning, lovable old imposture is the same as ever; he 
 has something impressive to say, and as usual proceeds 
 to work himself up to the proper frenzy,—his heart is too 
 soft for the task. 
 
 Knowing him well, we four are seated before him in 
 solemn silence, with decorous and respectful glance. A 
 shock-headed drummer-boy, Bohrer, is clumsily fum¬ 
 bling at the strings of the curtain, trying to let down the 
 
AT WEST POINT. 
 
 71 
 
 shade. Bohrer is the personification of awkwardness, 
 and on him no amount of “ setting-up” ever took effect. 
 No word is spoken as the commandant gloweringly 
 watches his victim, for he is always storming at that boy, 
 and letting him have double the length of time at supper 
 to pay for it. At last his patience is exhausted. Like 
 the resonant roar of the “ light twelve” his voice thun¬ 
 ders, “ Boy!” and the hapless orderly dropping his work, 
 starts at the word, and faces the colonel. “ Out with ye !” 
 And the youngster tumbles for the door. 
 
 Then Old Harry reviews us with a frowning gaze. 
 One after another, slowly and deliberately, he looks us 
 completely over, and we as solemnly look back at him. 
 Then, slowly and majestically, he rises to the full height 
 of his six feet four, and expands his powerful chest; then 
 from the depths of his lungs, slow, measured, ominous, 
 detonating in rumbling basso profundo, we hear the 
 words, “ Gentlemen, the crisis has come !” 
 
 Well, nobody seems to be disturbed somehow ; all look 
 as though they expected it of course, but no one for a 
 moment ventures a remark. Meanwhile, sterner and 
 sterner the regards of our ponderous chief take us in. 
 At last, finding this sort of thing oppressive, one of our 
 number, a Kentuckian, who has small reverence for per¬ 
 sons and no sense of dramatic propriety, lapsing naturally 
 into the vernacular of the blue-grass country, cheerfully 
 pipes up, “ Well, I s’pose you mean the nigger,” and that 
 furnishes Old Harry with his cue. He well-nigh blazes 
 with pent-up consternation, but delivers his fire with 
 telling effect. The mere use of such a word as nigger 
 may cost a man his commission hereafter; but, to boil 
 down the lecture to a point, we receive explicit instruc- 
 
72 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 tions as to how those young gentlemen of color are to 
 be received, protected, and cherished, and by noon of 
 that day the pioneers of their race, two in number, are 
 safely lodged in an airy room in that portion of the cadet 
 barracks devoted to all new-comers, and the press of the 
 nation rings with the news that the colored cadet is a 
 fact. 
 
 Before they had been there ten days we had, as a 
 matter of course, an outrage. Up to that time there had 
 been no sign of turbulence among the cadets. There 
 was great curiosity on their part to see the new-comers, 
 but, thanks to their color, those two young aspirants were 
 not subjected to the tormenting system of initiation then, 
 and for years previous, in vogue at the Academy. As 
 they arrived the “ plebes” were duly marked by vigilant 
 eyes from the barrack windows, and immediately after 
 breaking ranks after dinner that day, or certainly after 
 supper in the evening, those who had reported since the 
 previous day were surrounded by an eager knot of 
 “ yearlings” and badgered with questions: “ What’s 
 your name, plebe ?” “ What State do you represent ?” 
 
 “ Ohio ?” “ Great Scott! fellows, look at this plebe; says 
 
 he represents the State of Ohio.” “ Do you aspire to the 
 command of troops ?” “ You do ? Jeewhillikins ! if here 
 isn’t a plebe who aspires to the command of troops! 
 Look at him.” “ You don’t? Then what in blazes did 
 you come here for?” All very rough and reprehensible 
 sans doute , but leveling, sir, leveling, as all good dem¬ 
 ocrats would have the Academy of the nation. 
 
 The stern, Argus-eyed cadet corporals on duty over 
 the new cadets were overpoweringly intolerant of the 
 faintest blunder the unsoldierly muscles of the novices 
 
AT WEST POINT. 
 
 7 3 
 
 were sure to make, and wrathful commentaries were as 
 sure to follow ; but all this, and much more, the Africans 
 gazed at but took no part in. Few cadets seemed to take 
 more notice of them than a prolonged stare, and their 
 cadet instructors corrected their blunders in as few words 
 as possible, and strove to set them right without fuss of 
 any kind. 
 
 It could not be said that they were ignored, for they 
 were the centres of attraction; and so far as officers of 
 the tactical department were concerned, all were on the 
 qui vive to see that they were unmolested. The two 
 were a curious contrast: one a chuckling, bullet-headed 
 little darky from Mississippi, whose great eyes would 
 wander from object to object as though in search of 
 something to excuse the cachination for which his soul 
 was longing; the other a tall, slim, loose-jointed, cadav¬ 
 erous party, with arms and legs of extraordinary length, 
 and an indescribable complexion, chalky-white, except 
 in spots where the tan struck through, and occasional 
 deeper blotches of brown ; little, beady, snake-like eyes, 
 high cheek-bones, and kinky hair, No. 2 was the per¬ 
 sonification of repulsive gloom, while little Mississippi 
 seemed looking everywhere for a chance for fun. 
 
 In those days the cadets all repaired to a room in the 
 barrack basement to have their shoes blacked, and some¬ 
 times just before parade or inspection the whole corps 
 would be swarming thither. One morning the new 
 cadets were crowded in there, the Africans among them, 
 and the first outrage upon the colored cadet was alleged 
 to have taken place. 
 
 According to the combined statements of the colored 
 gentlemen from South Carolina and Mississippi, the for- 
 
 d 7 
 
74 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 mer acting as spokesman, the latter unhesitatingly cor¬ 
 roborating by eager nods and gestures, the circumstances 
 were substantially as follows: When it came their turn 
 to step upon the shoeblack’s bench they had been 
 roughly hustled off, with much abusive language, by 
 their white classmates (no “ old cadets” were present), 
 and upon their remonstrance and reassertion of their 
 rights to have their shoes blacked in their turn, they 
 had been seized by the throat, hurled against the wall, 
 and held there by certain young gentlemen, whose names 
 they gave, who at the time drew bowie- and large pocket- 
 knives, and threatened, with much frightful and profane 
 emphasis, to cut their hearts out, and then drove them 
 from the room. 
 
 The whole story looked plausible, if not probable. 
 New cadets were always examined on arrival, to see that 
 none had pistols or knives in their possession; a system 
 that had been adopted of necessity in the days when the 
 chivalry “ ran” the institution, and it was not exactly 
 credited that bowie-knives had been brandished; but the 
 colored gentlemen were emphatic and reiterative, the 
 Mississippian going so far as to blurt out, “ Yes, sah; 
 an’—an’ pistols, too—six-shooters.” 
 
 An instant investigation was ordered, and half an hour 
 from the time the outrage occurred three officers were 
 taking testimony in a barrack room. 
 
 Possibly because of the fact that he had been reared 
 in the faith of abolitionism, and had been taught the 
 crime and shame of slavery from babyhood; possibly 
 because he represented a name that was identified with 
 the sending forth of the first colored troops raised in our 
 Northern land during the late Rebellion (the scene is 
 
AT WEST POINT. 
 
 75 
 
 commemorated in the admirable painting at the Union 
 League in New York City), it fell to Mr. X.’s lot to be 
 the recorder of that investigation, and he entered upon 
 the duty with every conviction in his mind that the story 
 was true. It was just what he had been dreading, and 
 here was the time to take the stitch that might save nine 
 and prevent all future affairs by securing prompt punish¬ 
 ment of the first offenders. 
 
 First to be examined were the two complainants. 
 Hitherto they had simply backed up one another’s ver¬ 
 sion of the affair; now they appeared singly, South Caro¬ 
 lina leading, and very glibly and vindictively he gave his 
 testimony, and unflinchingly submitted to cross exami¬ 
 nation. He had done nothing whatever but simply 
 suffer the assault. Then came little chuckle-head from 
 Mississippi, and, deprived of the supporting presence of 
 his spotted associate, it became evident at once that he 
 was all afloat. Every time he told his story it differed in 
 important detail from his previous attempt. Mr. X. 
 argued that he was naturally excited and “ flustered” by 
 the circumstances of the morning, and secured time for 
 his witness to “ think over the matter for a while,” though 
 the board of investigators very properly declined to 
 allow him to have a chance to compare notes with the 
 gentleman from South Carolina, so he was temporarily 
 relegated to a room by himself. Meantime, the six new 
 cadets mentioned in the accusation as being prominent 
 in the outrage were examined one by one. Their stories 
 fitted together with exact nicety, nor had they had time 
 to concoct one. The instant after the affair took place 
 all the implicated parties were placed under surveillance. 
 Six or seven eye-witnesses to the transaction were then 
 
76 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 examined, and to a man the white cadets testified that 
 while there had been some elbowing and shoving be¬ 
 tween New Cadet - and the gentleman from South 
 
 Carolina consequent upon a misunderstanding as to 
 whose turn it was, no other violence took place, hardly 
 a word was spoken, and there was no time for any out 
 rage, as the South Carolinian loudly and excitedly called 
 to the Mississippian to follow him the instant he stepped 
 back or was shoved back from the bench, and together 
 they had hurried from the room, shouting, “ Nozv we’ll 
 see we get our rights,” upon which the white cadets had 
 indulged in some laughter, doubtless derisive; but one 
 and all agreed that not a hand had been laid on the 
 colored boys, not a knife had been drawn, and beyond 
 the “ Who are you shovin’ ?” remarks naturally to be 
 expected under such circumstances, there had been no 
 bad language of any kind. Cross-examination failed to 
 shake their statements in the least. 
 
 Then the South Carolinian was recalled. This time 
 the white portion of his skin looked ghastly, his beady 
 eyes flitted in quick furtive glances from one face to 
 another; he gave his version of the affair a third time, 
 stolidly, sullenly, as though he knew every word was 
 questioned and yet was bound to stick to it. He had 
 his lesson pretty well, but slipped on several minor 
 points in cross-examination. When the discrepancies 
 were pointed out to him, he bit his lip, apparently strove 
 to enlarge a knot-hole in the floor with the toe of his 
 boot, and muttered that that was all he knew about it; 
 he declined to say any more. He was sent to his room 
 and the little Mississippian called in. He broke down at 
 the second question, hung his head, giggled, stammered, 
 
AT WEST POINT. 
 
 77 
 
 chuckled, experimented with his boot-toe on the same 
 knot-hole, and then threw up the sponge with an air of 
 evident relief. 
 
 Q. “ Do you mean to say that your previous statement 
 was untrue ?” 
 
 A. “Ye —es, sah.” (Chuckle.) 
 
 Q. “ Then no knives were drawn ?” 
 
 A. “ No, sah.” 
 
 Q. “ Then, did the cadets lay hands on you or Mr. 
 -, or not?” 
 
 A. “ No, sah; they didn’t touch us.” 
 
 Thereupon one of the investigating officers popped in 
 with this question: “ In plain words, was or was not 
 your whole statement a deliberate lie ?” 
 
 Mr. X. informed the gentleman from Mississippi that 
 he need not answer that question, this was a mere pre¬ 
 liminary investigation to see whether or no further pro¬ 
 ceedings would be necessary; but Chuckle-head was on 
 the stool of repentance and wanted to make a clean 
 breast of it. He unhesitatingly asseverated that he had 
 been lying; that he and his associate had been put up to 
 the whole performance by letters from colored friends 
 and carpet-bag politicians, who told them to go ahead 
 with any story they liked and they would support them. 
 And so the bubble burst. 
 
 A few days more sufficed to close the academic career 
 of the little Mississippian. He was unable to pass the 
 preliminary examination for admission and dropped out, 
 but the South Carolinian started fairly. Liar or no liar, 
 the government was bound to give him a chance, and just 
 as though his soul were unspotted with guile his instruc¬ 
 tion began. For three long and eventful years the aca 
 
 7* 
 
73 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 demic system was drained by the suppuration kept up by 
 this poisoned blade of the entering wedge with which 
 its enemies had hoped to render it asunder. Then the 
 foreign matter fell out through its own decay. 
 
 Of all the low, tricky, vindictive bipeds that walked 
 the earth, it would have been difficult for the “ friends of 
 the movement” to have selected a specimen better quali¬ 
 fied to carry out their plans. Time and again he was 
 court-martialed for offenses for which a white cadet 
 would have been sent out neck and crop; but though 
 found guilty and sentenced to dismissal, and though the 
 high authorities at Washington were compelled to admit 
 the absolute justice of the findings and sentence, and to 
 stamp them with their approval, yet was the whole gov¬ 
 ernment of the United States so committed to this polit¬ 
 ical experiment that the Secretary of War was compelled 
 to announce in general orders that “ the policy of the 
 administration could not admit of the dismissal of this 
 cadet at the present time” (or words to that effect), and 
 directed his restoration to duty. The darky felt his 
 importance, and acted accordingly. He would vent his 
 hatred on the old cadets (who ignored him) by kicking 
 their shins as he marched behind them in ranks,—a pro¬ 
 ceeding they could not resent at the time, and reporting 
 him did no good; he would deny or excuse it on the plea 
 of accident; it was useless to court-martial, and if other 
 means were resorted to—well, here’s what followed: 
 
 Sitting in his office as the battalion came marching 
 back from supper one winter’s evening, Mr. X. noticed 
 some stir and disorder in Company “ A” as it broke 
 ranks; a moment later the colored cadet rushed into his 
 presence all excitement. 
 
AT WEST POINT. 79 
 
 “ Mr. X., I claim your protection. I am in fear of my 
 life.” 
 
 Mr. X. assures the claimant that no harm shall come 
 to him, and requests further explanation. The darky 
 states that on breaking ranks he had been violently 
 assaulted by Cadet Dillard (let us say), pursued to his 
 room, and there beaten and abused until he made his 
 escape and flew to the officer in charge for succor. 
 
 Mr. X. sends an orderly for Cadet Dillard, who 
 promptly appears,—a tall, soldierly Kentuckian. “ You 
 
 are accused of having assaulted Cadet-on breaking 
 
 ranks. What have you to say ?” 
 
 “ It is true, sir. I’m sorry, but I could not help it. 
 He was kicking me all the way from the mess-hall. He 
 had done it time and again, and at last I lost my temper. 
 He ran as we broke ranks, and I was foolish and furious 
 enough to follow and cuff his ears for him. He isn’t 
 hurt, sir, half as much as I am.” (That was evident, as 
 Dillard limped, and-hadn’t a mark.) 
 
 “Very well, Mr. Dillard; go to your quarters in ar¬ 
 rest.” And the Kentuckian, humiliated in the very 
 presence of his tormentor (Mr. X. uses the word ad¬ 
 visedly), faces about, and goes direct to his enforced 
 confinement. The feeling gained ground among the 
 cadets at that time that the institution was run solely in 
 the interest of the colored man, and that Mr. X. was a 
 “ nigger worshiper.” 
 
 A year before this occurrence, in making his inspec¬ 
 tion of the cadets’ mess-hall at dinner-time, Mr. X. 
 noticed that there was no “ commandant of table” among 
 the cadets seated with the gentleman from South Caro¬ 
 lina. “ Where is Mr. Hayden ?” (let us call Jam) asked 
 
8o 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 Mr. X. of the cadet corporal at the end of the table. 
 The young fellow looked embarrassed, and replied that 
 he thought he was somewhere in the mess-hall. 
 
 The “ commandant of table” was a cadet lieutenant of 
 Company “ A,” that to which the colored cadet belonged, 
 and it was the duty of this young officer to preserve 
 order at his table, and to see that all cadets were satis¬ 
 factorily supplied with the rations to which they were 
 equally entitled. Some recent newspaper articles had 
 asserted that the new colored cadet was starved, de¬ 
 liberately deprived of food and drink, and so the “ officers 
 in charge” were constantly hovering about his table to 
 see that nothing of this kind could happen. Only a few 
 days before, the new cadet squads had been broken up 
 and their members distributed among the company tables. 
 In a few moments Mr. X. came upon Cadet Lieutenant 
 Hayden seated at a table in another part of the hall, and 
 ordered him to go at once to his own place. 
 
 “ Mr. X.,” says the cadet, respectfully, but in evident 
 excitement, “ I saw the superintendent yesterday, and he 
 promised me that this matter should be settled, so that I 
 would ?iot have to sit with the colored cadet!' 
 
 Probably Cadet Hayden so understood the superin¬ 
 tendent, but it made no difference in the final result. 
 Mr. X. reported the dereliction of duty to the command¬ 
 ant of cadets, and that night at parade the cadet lieutenant 
 was shorn of his sword, plume, sash, and gold lace, and 
 returned to the ranks side by side with the colored 
 gentleman near whom he had declined to sit and eat. 
 
 Now, Mr. X. liked that cadet; furthermore, Mr. X. 
 liked some young ladies who also liked that cadet, and 
 of course, when this affair took place, there were several 
 
AT WEST POINT. 
 
 81 
 
 highly* cultivated dames and damsels of very good Repub¬ 
 lican parentage or connections who looked askance at 
 Mr. X. from that time forth as a man who wanted to 
 make “ their Hayd” sit and eat with a low negro. 
 
 Many a good laugh have we had when roughing it 
 together on the Yellowstone (Hayden and X. being the 
 we in question), for, whatever may have been the disgust 
 of his friends, H. was too good a soldier not to know 
 that it was purely a matter of duty on X.’s part. 
 
 These incidents are mentioned merely as specimens of 
 the efforts made to enforce the rights of this pioneer of 
 the colored race at the Academy. That Mr. X. was 
 thrown more constantly into disagreeable relations with 
 somebody or other in consequence of the principle in¬ 
 volved was simply characteristic of the ill luck which 
 pursued him. He it was who most frequently unearthed 
 such lapses of discipline and, reporting them, secured the 
 punishment of the cadet and the undying hatred of that 
 cadet’s friends. 
 
 Such letters as used to come in those days! Ku- 
 Kluxism was then in its heyday in the South, and the 
 vile, misspelled, profane, obscene, and abusive epistles 
 that were constantly received by the commandant, and 
 frequently by Mr. X.,the gentle reader would not care to 
 see in print. We laughed at those bristling fulminations 
 from the land of cane and cotton; but every now and 
 then came letters from men of education,—gentlemen 
 who propounded a series of questions,—who wanted to 
 know whether we did not think we were teaching that 
 darky to believe himself a heaven-born superior. Would 
 we really introduce him to our own wives and sisters? 
 Admitting his political rights, was it wise in the govern- 
 / 
 
82 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 ment to seek to educate the negro to a position of com¬ 
 mand ? etc., etc. All traps to “ draw us out.” 
 
 It was easy enough to answer and say that officers at 
 the Academy were not there to decide whether the action 
 of the government was wise or not, and that so long 
 as their official relations towards the cadets, white or 
 colored, were those prescribed by law and regulations, 
 their personal opinions were of no earthly consequence 
 to any one. 
 
 But swarms of people kept coming to the Point and 
 poking their noses into everybody’s affairs, on the general 
 plea of interesting themselves in the welfare of that 
 colored cadet. Reporters were buzzing about the post 
 incessantly, but their feats of impudence and mendacity 
 would require a volume. Next to them in rank as nui¬ 
 sances came the strong-minded women, and the American 
 editions of the genus Stiggins, who claimed to represent 
 the Methodist or Baptist faith. Somehow or other Mr. 
 X. was incessantly detailed to meet and receive these 
 gentry, the members of the Press, Sorosis, and the Pulpit, 
 and an awful life they led him. There was no matter 
 beneath their notice,—there was no subject into which 
 they did not pry. The Academy was at their mercy 
 now, for under cover of the interest which all American 
 citizens were supposed to be taking in the colored cadet, 
 these harpies of modern civilization swooped down upon 
 the post, and even the personal homes of the officers’ 
 families were invaded by them in their hungry curiosity. 
 “ It is the property of the nation, sir,” as one ponderous 
 divine remarked, “ and the public demands accurate 
 information as to its internal management.” 
 
 Mr. X. tried to be polite to the reporters, -some of 
 
AT WEST POINT. 
 
 83 
 
 them deserved it too,—and generally, after showing them 
 over the post, as he was directed by his superiors, he 
 offered them the refreshments of the mess. One day he 
 had three of them in tow, and was as civil as could be to 
 each and all. Three days after, the superintendent sent 
 for him, and proceeded to read the following extracts: 
 
 “ Through the courtesy of the efficient superintendent. General-, 
 
 your commissioner was escorted around the post, taken to the cadet bar¬ 
 racks, and very hospitably entertained by Lieutenant X., a young officer 
 of marked intelligence and ability, who seemed eager to open every 
 avenue of information, and who promptly answered all inquiry bearing 
 upon the much-vexed question of the colored cadet. Subsequently, 
 Lieutenant X. introduced us to a number of officers stationed at the 
 Point, and it was impossible not to recognize the courtesy of manner 
 which distinguished them, and the utter freedom from that hauteur and 
 snobbishness which has been alleged to be their characteristic.” 
 
 “ Now, that’s all very well, Mr. X.,” said the chief; 
 “ but now look here; this is what the Moon says 
 
 “ The superintendent somewhat gruffly turned us over to the tender 
 mercies of a beardless stripling, whom he introduced as Lieutenant X., and 
 who lost no time in impressing your reporter with the fact that to strut and 
 swagger in a tight-fitting uniform was about the extent of the information 
 he had acquired in a four years’ schooling at the nation’s expense. This 
 pigmy second lieutenant professed to believe that the colored cadet had 
 been fairly treated by the officers, but was unable to point to any circum¬ 
 stance as sustaining his argument; and finding it impossible to extract 
 any useful information from such a source, your reporter desisted. . . , 
 
 “ Subsequently, and doubtless with the hope of securing the favor¬ 
 able notice of the Moon, your reporter was escorted to the officers’ club- 
 room, where a party of consequential young dandies, without an 
 unmortgaged dollar in their pockets, were regaling themselves with 
 brandy-smashes and thirty-cent Partagas. No wonder justice is not to be 
 obtained for the scholars chosen by the voice of the people to represent 
 them at the nation’s academy, when its instructors are selected from so 
 vapid, empty-headed, and bigoted a class of young snobs.” 
 
84 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 “ What did you do to offend the Moon man, Mr. X. ? I 
 thought you had sense enough to be civil to these d—d 
 nuisances,” says the superintendent. 
 
 Mr. X. says he does not know ; the three of them were 
 together, and he treated them exactly alike. “ Better 
 send somebody else around with the next batch,” he 
 suggests. 
 
 Two days after, the Moon man comes up again, and X. 
 and others refuse to recognize him, whereupon a brother 
 journalist volunteers this explanation : “ We are not 
 responsible for these things; what we come here for is 
 simply the facts in the case, then when we get back we 
 color them up whichever way we are told.” So much for 
 the reporters.. 
 
 Of the swarm of visitors then attracted to the Academy, 
 it may be said that they were guided by the Press as to 
 the objects of interest to be seen at West Point. Monu¬ 
 ments, trophies, battle-flags, the pictures, the library and 
 museum, the lovely scenery, were passed over with dis¬ 
 paraging comment and blase indifference,—a new order 
 of things obtained ; and as a result of constant obser¬ 
 vation, Mr. X. is able to state that among all the parties 
 whom it was his delight and privilege to show around 
 the Point, nine out of ten would eagerly desire to see, 
 first, the colored cadet; second, Fred Grant; after that, 
 anything as it came along. 
 
 This tendency on the part of our visitors gave rise to 
 some harmless pleasantries on the part of their military 
 cicerones. Cadet Hayden, aforementioned, whose dark 
 complexion rendered plausible coloring to the deception, 
 was not infrequently pointed out by his comrades as the 
 genuine colored cadet, and Fred Grant and the colored 
 
AT WEST POINT. 
 
 
 gentleman were made to do duty for one another a dozen 
 times. “ You see,” explained Lieutenant Wag, of the 
 engineers, “ this is so thoroughly democratic an institu¬ 
 tion that one cadet is just as good as another, and I 
 really know very few of them apart.” To allay all 
 possibility of acrimonious criticism on the part of 
 avowedly strong levelers of any distinction between 
 races, it was found a safe and soothing expedient to point 
 out the commanding officer at parade, or else the drum- 
 major, when the customary inquiry came for the colored 
 cadet. People who could actually go away and say they 
 had seen the despised African in positions of absolute 
 prominence and command were always glad to do so, 
 provided neither themselves nor their remotest relations 
 were among his supposed subordinates. 
 
 One rainy morning Mr. X. was putting the first class- 
 men, whose graduation was near at hand, through a 
 lively exercise in the riding-hall. Bareback and with 
 stirrups crossed the cadets were leaping their horses over 
 hurdles, and slashing at leather heads with their sabres, 
 to the nervous admiration of numerous visitors in the 
 gallery. Then the seniors withdrew, and the second 
 classmen appeared, and they, too, performed various feats 
 in equitation, to the delight of the lookers-on. At the 
 close of the second drill, as Mr. X. was leaving the hall, 
 he was accosted by the spokesman of a large party 
 of what appeared to be students of some theological 
 seminary. The spokesman was tall, pompous, gray- 
 bearded, and impressive. “ Sir,” said he, while he pointed 
 his cane square at his victim, and his satellites, male and 
 female, listened in wrapt attention,—“sir, permit me to 
 
 detain you one moment. I observed that the colored 
 
 8 
 
86 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 cadet was not among your pupils this morning. At what 
 time does he receive his instruction in horsemanship?” 
 
 “ Not at all as yet; he is only a fourth class-” 
 
 “ I thought as much ; I said as much,” broke in the 
 spokesman, while his flock admiringly held their breath 
 and watched the demolition of the victim with all apparent 
 delight. “You exclude this young man from participa¬ 
 tion in equestrianism, as you do from other rights too 
 numerous to mention, simply on account of his color; 
 and yet, I suppose you consider that you are doing your 
 duty as an instructor at the Military Academy,” etc. 
 
 Mr. X. was allowed no opportunity to explain that not 
 until their second year at the Academy were any cadets 
 instructed in riding. The ecclesiastic had the floor, and 
 did not propose to yield it until he had exhausted the 
 subject. Life and temper were both too fleeting to stay 
 and listen. Mr. X. beat a retreat. 
 
 But now we come to another and very different source 
 of tribulation. Mr. X. approaches the subject with all 
 diffidence, if indeed that diffidence do not fall short of 
 absolute timidity. In all the time he was on duty at the 
 Academy, in all the varied experiences there encountered, 
 there was one trial in face of which superintendent, com¬ 
 mandant, the academic staff, and the tactical department 
 shrank in common,—the ambitious mamma of an only 
 son, that son being a cadet. 
 
 Time was when the fact of being the only son of a 
 widowed mother was valid ground for exemption from 
 military duty, and, in the light of events herein chronicled, 
 Mr. X. declares it to be his conviction that at the Mili¬ 
 tary Academy it should constitute absolute ground of 
 exclusion. 
 
AT WEST POINT. 
 
 3/ 
 
 In nine cases out of ten that solitary chicken of the 
 fussy old hen has been petted, spoiled, and pampered 
 from babyhood. His digestion has been ruined by the 
 sweets and lollipops demanded by his infantile majesty 
 and all too readily accorded by his over-indulgent parent; 
 his frame is feeble and puny, because his boyhood has 
 been passed on the periphery described, with the maternal 
 apron-string as a radius ; his temper and disposition are 
 querulous, exacting, and tyrannical. He has known no 
 rough schooling among boys of his age; he has never 
 learned either independence or self-denial; he has been 
 reared, the tender, sensitive plant, by his nurses and his 
 mother, whom he has alternately cajoled and bullied; 
 and yet just such a weakling as this sometimes takes a 
 notion into his head that he would like to go to West 
 Point and be a soldier. Doubtless there is a scene when 
 he announces this fact to mamma, but she has too long 
 been accustomed to yielding to Sammy’s every whim, 
 and, after a few days of tears and entreaties, she suc¬ 
 cumbs. Such a mother is never without influence at 
 Washington. Pertinacity will accomplish as much there 
 as elsewhere, and in the days whereof we write every 
 year brought on two or three mother-escorted boys to 
 take their initiation. Generally the appointment was 
 wrung from a reluctant but powerless President. Be 
 that as it may, they were sure to arrive every June. 
 
 Other boys came sturdily alone, went at once to the 
 adjutant’s office, reported, and were turned over to the 
 commandant of new cadets for drill; but with Sammy 
 and his mamma it was different, and they, mind you, are 
 merely representatives of a class. They go to the hotel, 
 from which point madame dispatches a bell-boy with her 
 
88 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 card to the superintendent and other officers, for, depend 
 upon it, she has come armed with letters of introduction 
 to half a score of them, and nothing will satisfy her but 
 that she may personally present her aspiring son to each 
 and every one. Nor will she permit him to “ report” 
 until this ceremony has been effected. Then, when he 
 does go, she marches protectingly by his side, and, up to 
 the very moment when he is ushered into the cadet bar¬ 
 racks, never leaves him, and then only to return to the 
 hotel to plot and plan for his interests. Within twenty- 
 four hours she has succeeded in making the acquaintance 
 of every man and woman on the Point who can have the 
 faintest influence over Sammy’s future career as a cadet. 
 She button-holes the commandant with long stories of 
 the heroic deeds of Sammy’s ancestors, and of the 
 passion for a military life that beset him from earliest 
 boyhood. Somebody remarks that the boy looks pale 
 and feeble, and that the surgeons may reject him, where¬ 
 upon she descends upon those luckless “ saw-bones” 
 (with letters), and besieges them individually and col¬ 
 lectively with dissertations upon Sammy’s superb consti¬ 
 tution,—“ never had a sick day in his life,” and as for his 
 muscular development, why, Doctor Hammond, whom 
 you must know, has always said it was marvelous in a 
 boy of his age, etc., etc. In the days of which we write 
 it was the custom to start the new cadets on their drill 
 as fast as they arrived ; the examinations came later, and 
 on the very next day after his reception at barracks 
 Sammy made his appearance in a brown linen jacket 
 three sizes too large for him, and a squad of lusty 
 youngsters, fresh from the farm, whose ruddy faces and 
 clear eyes only served to make his sallow complexion 
 
AT WEST POINT. 
 
 89 
 
 look the more ghastly in comparison. Of course madame 
 was on hand, following every movement of that squad, 
 and the miseries of Sammy when undergoing the process 
 of “ setting up” were too much for her. She seized upon 
 the officer in charge with voluble protestations. It was 
 a shame to require her boy to go through such gyrations; 
 he had been drilled all his life ; he took all the prize 
 medals at Churchill’s school, and the Seventh Regiment 
 used to send for him to come and teach their companies— 
 or squads, which was it ? it was hideous to make him 
 drill with those hobbledehoys; he was perfectly com¬ 
 petent to take his place at once among the old cadets at 
 parade: pointing him out as he came awkwardly stum¬ 
 bling over the heels of his front-rank man marching down 
 to supper, and wondering that in the sallow, hollow¬ 
 cheeked, and hollow-chested lad no one seemed to detect 
 the latent martial heroism of which she so volubly assured 
 them. In one class there came three such boys with three 
 such mothers, and then there was a little relief, for they 
 soon grew to cordially hate one another, and that gave 
 them something else to talk about; but ’tis of the repre¬ 
 sentative madame mere we are speaking now. The officer 
 who had been assigned the duty of superintending new 
 cadet squad drills began to dread the rapidly-recurring 
 hours for that exercise. She was sure to be there, to 
 “ corral” him somewhere, to petition for Sammy’s relief 
 from such unnecessary humiliation as to have to drill 
 with a lot of raw boys. Sammy plainly didn’t like it, 
 and between-times was to be seen wandering dismally 
 about the Point with his mamma, pouring his plaint into 
 her ready ears. Then she began to assail the commander 
 on the subject. It was in vain that official patiently 
 
90 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 / 
 
 / 
 
 I 
 
 assured her that no cadet ever entered West Point, much 
 less was ever graduated, without having to go through 
 the same rigorous drill. She persisted that it was unne¬ 
 cessary with Sammy,—“ he was the very best scholar 
 at Peachlawn Military Academy,” though the fact was 
 patent to all who cared to look that the boy was slouchy, 
 stooping, and awkward in the last degree: he seemed to 
 have no elasticity whatever. Then madame declared 
 that his health was suffering from the cruelty and severity 
 of his cadet drill-master, and called attention to his own 
 pallor and the cadet’s flushed countenance. The latter 
 was having by far the harder time of the two, for 
 “ Sammy’s” stupidity was ruining the appearances of 
 his squad and all chance for corporalship. Madame 
 desired to have her boy excused then on the ground of 
 ill health, and had well-nigh succeeded, when it was 
 whispered to her, malheureusement , that this would lead 
 to his being declared physically disqualified when he 
 came up for examination before the surgeons. Realizing 
 that a false step had been made, madame eagerly sought 
 acquaintance with the surgeons, and pumped them full 
 of information as to the vigor of that youngster’s boy¬ 
 hood, explaining that he had never known a sick day 
 (though the poor fellow subsequently admitted he had 
 been well-nigh raised on medicines), and that his droop 
 and pallor were due entirely to mental distress at being 
 so ignominiously treated. Sammy got through after a 
 fashion; was launched into the troublous sea of “ plebe” 
 camp; was soon recognized as an out-and-out “tender¬ 
 foot;” drills, guard, and “police” were too severe for 
 him. Once inside the lines, he was safe, and now madame 
 developed the fact that from babyhood something had 
 
AT WEST POINT. 
 
 91 
 
 been the matter with his heart, or his lungs,—or was it 
 his liver ? Sammy’s longest walks were to the hospital 
 to get excused: recognized by the other cadets as inva¬ 
 lided, he was let alone, and his heaviest burden was the 
 sick-book. Through his Plebe year he crawled in much 
 the same fashion, suffering from some mysterious malady 
 when it came his turn for guard duty, refusing the solid 
 fare of the mess-hall at supper, and requiring the more 
 dainty dishes to be had at “the Dutchman’s.’’ Sammy 
 was generally to be found there after evening parade, but 
 alone,—the only cadet in the battalion, probably, who 
 had the face to partake of Mrs. Renner’s good cheer 
 without a sharing comrade. Both his examinations and 
 his examiners were superintended by madame, whose 
 tongue by this time was known and feared all over the 
 vicinity. Young officers whose misfortune it was to have 
 to instruct Sammy, and, as a consequence, to spur him at 
 times to make him keep pace with his comrades, began 
 to find themselves mysteriously losing ground in friend¬ 
 ships and in hitherto cordial relations with neighboring 
 families. Months or years after, in many cases, the ex¬ 
 planation was given: “ Well, I heard, from what I then 
 considered good authority, that you had said,” etc., etc. 
 (needless to explain that there was a lady in that case). 
 But madame was a ruthless enemy. Her motto was, 
 “ Either for or against me,” and the instructor or cadet 
 who was not in some way actively bolstering up the 
 nerveless cause of her nondescript was handled mer¬ 
 cilessly as woman’s tongue and ingenuity could devise. 
 Why was it that Mr. X.’s company was the one of the 
 four into which these hen-governed striplings seemed to 
 fall ? Luck ; nothing but luck, of the worst kind. Were 
 
92 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 he to live a thousand years he could never forget the 
 scene after parade the bright June evening when the cadet 
 officers’ appointments were published, and Sammy’s name 
 was not among them. 
 
 “ Hell (hath) no fury like a woman scorned,” unless it 
 was madame when some twenty young gentlemen of 
 Sammy’s class were decorated with corporal’s chevrons, 
 but none for Sammy. What made it worse was that 
 eight of the twenty had been chosen from Mr. X.’s com¬ 
 pany. Nearly all his “ yearlings” had been appointed, 
 but not Sammy. For a year the boy had gone through 
 such duties as he could not get excused from, in a style 
 more dead than alive : he was always dismal, slow, and, 
 for a cadet, slovenly; always late at roll-calls, sleeping 
 through reveille, having contraband eatables in his room, 
 in his clothes-box, candle-box, or up the chimney; his 
 belts were never trim and fresh, his accoutrements were 
 always dusty or shabby. With more clothes and far 
 more money than his companions, he never succeeded 
 in imitating their trim, soldierly, faultless dress and 
 carriage; he was always blundering on drill, going half 
 asleep on parade, and twice narrowly escaped being 
 caught asleep on guard; yet the blessed mother-eye 
 could see naught but perfection, and rage was in her 
 heart and malice on her lips when she saw him unap¬ 
 pointed. 
 
 “May I ask, sir, upon what principle you select your 
 corporals?” demanded she of the unhappy Mr. X., as 
 that young officer was vainly striving to dodge past her 
 at the hotel that evening. The halls were swarming 
 with people, and, as madame had already been ventilating 
 her opinions on the subject previous to his arrival, Mr. 
 
AT WEST POINT. 
 
 93 
 
 X. found that a dozen or more maliciously delighted 
 listeners were gathered within ear-shot. “ Perhaps,” she 
 continued, not waiting for his reply,—“ perhaps you 
 would have us understand that principle doesn’t enter 
 into the matter at all.” X. humbly protests that only 
 the superintendent has power to appoint, and that she 
 rmfcst appeal to that magnate for information; but the 
 device is too transparent. She knows well enough that 
 the recommendations of the company commanders are 
 the basis of selection, and goes on with her tirade. “ It 
 is time the War Department was informed of the out¬ 
 rageous system of favoritism and partiality some officers 
 maintain here. I suppose you would have had your 
 colored protege made first corporal,—ha-ha-ha!” and 
 with a fine burst of derisive laughter she sweeps victori¬ 
 ous from the scene. 
 
 “ Well, X.,” says the commandant, cheerily, next 
 morning, “ I hear the panther clawed your eyes out last 
 night,” and all the tactical department joins in the laugh 
 at the junior’s expense. “All right, gentlemen, laugh 
 ahead,” is the lugubrious response; “ your turn will 
 come.” 
 
 But it did not seem to. Being the junior, Mr. X. 
 found that it fell to his lot to have unpleasant duties 
 thrust upon his shoulders which the seniors objected to, 
 and Sammy was not the only mamma’s boy who was 
 handed over to his care. Sammy was enough of a trial, 
 however,—when taken in conjunction with the Panther, 
 —to eclipse all others. Once a third-class man, his 
 career of contemptuous disregard for regulations fairly 
 began. Lates, absences, dirty belts, boots, floors, etc., 
 rapidly rolled up against him, and many a time did 
 
94 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 Mr. X. figure as reporting officer. “ He is persecuting 
 my boy on every possible occasion,” said the Panther to 
 the professors. “ He is always sneaking around to catch 
 him at something, and reporting him on suspicion if he 
 cannot,” was her way of putting it to the ladies. (Bless 
 their hearts! they always told Mr. X. of it for fear she 
 would say it to him herself.) “ He prowls round the 
 barracks at midnight when gentlemen are asleep, just to 
 see if he cannot get an excuse to inspect Sammy’s 
 room,” was another allegation. 
 
 Night inspections of the cadets’ rooms were required 
 once a week, at least, of the four company commanders, 
 the object being to see that the cadets were present, that 
 no lights were burning after ten o’clock, that no cooking 
 or “visiting” was going on. Great hands the cadets were 
 in those days at getting up contraband suppers in their 
 rooms, stewing oysters or “ hash” over the gas, and spill¬ 
 ing the unlawful comestibles in greasy confusion on the 
 floors; and of all such accomplishments Sammy was a 
 tireless exponent. There was more of it going on at all 
 times in his room than anywhere else. “ He could not 
 bear the coarse food of the mess-hall,” mamma explained, 
 “ and needed the delicacies to which he had been accus¬ 
 tomed.” So it often happened that Sammy was caught 
 in flagrante delicta and promptly demerited. There was 
 nothing vicious in it, per se, and other cadets caught in 
 the same way took their demerit marks and three or four 
 “ punishment tours” without a murmur; but this Sammy 
 declined to do. Cadets in addition to their “ demerits” 
 were awarded by the superintendent on the weekly 
 punishment list two, three, or four “ extras,” as they were 
 called, or a similar number of confinements. The “ extra” 
 
AT WEST POINT. 
 
 95 
 
 was a nuisance. On Saturday afternoons at two o’clock 
 all cadets awarded that punishment appeared equipped 
 and armed as sentinels, and each was assigned a post or 
 “ beat” in the area of barracks, up and down which he 
 must silently walk until time for evening parade,—some¬ 
 times four hours. X. remembers to have seen as many 
 as sixty or seventy of the corps so disporting themselves 
 in the long spring afternoons, and, while few utterly 
 escaped them, there were some cadets who were always 
 there. When Sammy had tried two or three of these 
 and still had a dozen to “ walk off,” he decided that the 
 thing was an imposition. So mamma’s services were 
 called into requisition. She was making her head-quar¬ 
 ters somewhere around New York just then, and took 
 to coming up on the noon train. Then Sammy would 
 get a permit excusing him from “ extra” because of his 
 mother’s sudden arrival, she having to go back in the 
 evening. This worked well for a fortnight, but between 
 times the youth was rolling up more of them, and the 
 commandant called the superintendent’s attention to the 
 fact that while other cadets were serving out their pun¬ 
 ishments Sammy was getting off scot free; so it was 
 ordered that when excused on Saturday he should walk 
 Sunday afternoon. This was an unchristian barbarity 
 that no mother could stand; there were a number of 
 cadets whose array of punishment “ kept them on” both 
 days, but the Panther was up in arms by first train and 
 interviewed the superintendent. That boy “ had been 
 brought up in the shadow of the church, and should not 
 be forced to see his day of rest turned into a tread-mill,” 
 she argued; “he had always observed it as a holy day.” 
 
 The superintendent grimly pointed to the record for 
 
96 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 a Sunday within the month whereon Sammy, excused 
 from church by reason of headache, had worshiped and 
 glorified by tearing around the resounding halls of bar¬ 
 racks with two cavalry sabres, “ hived” for the occasion, 
 clattering after him, and making the peaceful morning 
 hideous by rolling the policeman’s iron buckets down the 
 iron stairways, to the great discomfiture of the “ plebe” 
 sentinel on the lower floor. The Panther of course 
 declared this statement to be a malicious invention of 
 Mr. X.’s,—who was the reporting officer,—but the evi¬ 
 dence was against her. She left in some discomfiture, 
 but in no wise conquered. Then we heard of her in 
 Washington, and pretty soon Sunday extras were stopped; 
 but the superintendent substituted two confinements for 
 each extra. A cadet confined for punishment was com¬ 
 pelled to remain in his room from 2 p.m. until first drum 
 for parade on Saturdays or Sundays. All Sammy’s Sun¬ 
 day extras being converted into confinements, placed him 
 on the list of victims for months to come, with a number 
 of Saturday punishments still to walk off and “ more 
 a-coming.” Finding it impossible to get excused before¬ 
 hand from these Saturday tribulations any longer, Sammy 
 resorted to another dodge. He would take his post at 
 two o’clock, walk till 2.30, then call for the corporal of 
 the guard for relief, and present himself pale and depressed 
 to the officer in charge for permission to go to the hos¬ 
 pital and get excused as too ill to stand it. After a few 
 successes, this game was blocked by the order that a 
 cadet should not be considered as having served his 
 punishment tour unless he “ walked off” the allotted 
 number of hours. 
 
 Spring came, and mamma with it, to stay a while. A 
 
AT WEST POINT. 
 
 97 
 
 room had been set apart next the commandant’s office, 
 in which relations of cadets could see them during study- 
 hours for ten minutes, or so, on making their wishes 
 known to the “ officer in charge,” and on Saturdays and 
 Sundays cadets on extra or confinement were allowed to 
 meet relations when the latter arrived, but were limited 
 to fifteen minutes. 
 
 One balmy Saturday late in April, Mr. X., being officer 
 in charge, had disposed his skirmish-line of extra men 
 in the area, and was in conversation with Captain San¬ 
 ford, when the latter, glancing out of the window towards 
 the sally-port, exclaimed, “ Great Scott! X., you’re in for 
 it ,—here comes the Panther. Good-by, old fellow: take 
 care of yourself,” and was off like a shot. Another 
 minute, and the orderly ushered in madame, majestic, 
 formidable, basket-laden. “ I wish to see my son ; the 
 superintendent has deigned to grant his permission, sir,” 
 was her only remark to Mr. X., who could not escape, 
 but now went to give the necessary orders for Sammy’s 
 temporary release. When the fifteen minutes were up it 
 was necessary to send a messenger to remind the youth 
 that orders were orders. X. knew that if he did it there 
 would be the devil to pay, but his instructions were 
 explicit. Sammy went ruefully back to his post, and 
 madame whisked her heavy silks past the cap-raising 
 officer in charge with no more notice than a glare; but 
 didn’t she haul his unhappy name in the mire for all time 
 thereafter ? 
 
 It was Sammy’s last extra, though. Madame never 
 left the Point until she had succeeded in persuading the 
 surgeons that her boy’s health absolutely demanded his 
 release from such punishment: so they advised that his 
 e s 9 
 
9 8 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 extras be changed to confinements, and they were. Then 
 she sailed in to prove that he was suffering for lack of 
 exercise, and that he must not be confined to his room 
 in the afternoons; but the authorities held that if he 
 needed exercise he ought not to be so constantly excused 
 from drills as he was, on plea of headache, and the con 
 finements stuck. Then madame left us again for a brief 
 spell,—we knew not whither she had gone,—but May 
 was then with us. Sammy and his classmates were wild 
 with excitement over the near approach of the long- 
 expected ten weeks’ furlough to which those who had 
 behaved themselves would be entitled after the June 
 examination, and we prayed that she might not return 
 meantime. But she did, and in a hurry too. 
 
 One night Sammy was missing. An inspection at 
 11 p.m. revealed the fact that he was not in his room, nor 
 did his room-mate know where he was. According to 
 regulations, the cadet officer of the day was routed out 
 and ordered to “ inspect for him every half-hour.” This 
 young officer in the performance of this duty was com¬ 
 pelled to sit up all night, and was swearing mad when, 
 just before reveille, Mr. Sammy sauntered into the area 
 of barracks. 
 
 “ Where the mischief have you been, Sam ? Don’t 
 you know you’re ‘ hived absent’ ? Here I’ve been after 
 you ever since taps.” 
 
 Sammy turns white, for he knows that he is in for a 
 scrape this time. It means dismissal, unless he can say 
 he was not off cadet limits. That morning at nine o’clock 
 the cadet adjutant was seen to leave the commandant’s 
 office, go to his own quarters, and presently reappear in 
 his full uniform, with plume, sash, and sword. Every 
 
AT WEST POINT. 
 
 99 - 
 
 cadet in the corps knew what that meant: somebody to 
 be placed in arrest. The adjutant made a bee-line for 
 “ C” Company’s quarters. His sword was heard clinking 
 against the iron stairs up to the third floor, a door opened 
 and closed, then the sword came clinking down again. 
 The erect cadet figure stalked back to the first division, 
 and when Bentz’s bugle summoned the sections to form 
 for second recitation at 9.30, the whole battalion knew 
 that Sammy was caged. 
 
 Next morning the commandant was summoned over 
 to the superintendent’s office. In ten minutes he returned 
 to his quartette of assistants. “ Well, gentlemen, Mrs. 
 
 -has come, and, X., you’ve got to go and see her. 
 
 She's waiting for you at the hotel!' 
 
 “ Was there a man dismayed ? 
 Not though the soldier knew 
 Some one had blunder’d. 
 Theirs not to make reply, 
 Theirs not to reason why, 
 Theirs but to do and-” 
 
 X. often wondered what his sensations would be when 
 ordered to charge a battery. He thinks it a bagatelle to 
 such duty as was assigned him, and so sought to tem¬ 
 porize. Hadn’t he been thrust into this particular im¬ 
 minent deadly breach as often as was his due ? Wasn’t 
 it some one else’s turn ? “ Perhaps so,” says the command¬ 
 ant, “ but, you see, she got Sammy’s telegram yesterday, 
 —she has just arrived, too much prostrated, she says, to 
 come to the superintendent, and he won’t go. In fact— 
 hang it! X.—the boy’s in your company, and you’ve got 
 to go and explain the matter to her ” 
 
IOO 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 X. goes on his mission with sinking heart. Half-way 
 up to the hotel he catches sight of the prostrated lady 
 marching up and down the piazza. As he enters the 
 inclosure she faces him and halts (horresco ref evens ! I see 
 her yet) : his face is pale with dismay, hers with pent-up 
 wrath. A crowd of curious visitors is idling about the 
 porticoes, and madame sweeps forward like a Meg Mer- 
 
 rilies in black. “ Good-morning, Mrs.-,” falters poor 
 
 X. “ Good-morning, sir, indeed! What have you done 
 to my boy ?” 
 
 Ah well! Years have rolled by since then, and no 
 especial pleasure is to be derived from this reminiscence. 
 Mr. X. decides to dismiss it with the brief conclusion 
 that, odd as it may appear to those who have worn the 
 cadet gray, our Sammy escaped without court-martial. 
 Nothing could exceed the energy, vim, and final success 
 of that indomitable woman. For three days and nights 
 she flew back and forth between the Point and Wash¬ 
 ington. Then it transpired that Sammy had been guilty 
 of no unavoidable breach of discipline,—the poor boy 
 had been suffering from an attack of palpitation, or pa¬ 
 ralysis, or something of the heart. The night was hot 
 and sultry, not a breath of air stirring, and so, unable to . 
 sleep in barracks, “ he had wandered out on the plain 
 and spent a wretched night in pacing to and fro,” all of 
 which with much earnestness and volubility madame had 
 repeated again and again to every one in authority, and 
 with telling effect. Sam wrote an explanation setting 
 forth that he had not been off “cadet limits,” but vouch¬ 
 safed no further remark; all that was left to mamma. 
 Some comment was excited by the fact that he had not 
 gone to the hospital, his invariable resort at such, and 
 
AT WEST POINT. 
 
 IOI 
 
 many other, times, as also by the spontaneous reply of 
 the cavalry sentinels when questioned the next day that 
 none of them had seen anything of any cadet on the 
 plain that night. But shortly after madame’s arrival she 
 was informed of this statement of the sentinels, and 
 within ten hours Privates Kelly and Mulligan remem¬ 
 bered that as they were coming home on pass, about 
 midnight, they saw a cadet leaning against a tree over 
 near the flag-staff, apparently sick, and McFadden, of the 
 second relief, come to think of it, saw a young feller in 
 the old mortar-battery sitting there two hours nearly. 
 The case was decided in Washington before it was fairly 
 opened at the Point, and, unless it was Mr. X., nobody 
 suffered. Indeed, as the Panther fiercely assured the 
 denizens of the Academy, “ The thing never would have 
 occurred at all if it hadn’t been for that horrid little 
 martinet,” which every mother, except one, accepted, 
 doubtless, as gospel truth. 
 
 As Mr. X. previously remarked, madame was only the 
 type of a class. We had many very like her, though 
 not quite so bad. Sammy’s mother was the acknowl¬ 
 edged leader of the lot, and she was the terror of the post. 
 The mere announcement of her arrival at the hotel was 
 sometimes sufficient to cause the superintendent to take 
 to his bed, and the post-surgeon to betake himself to 
 New York, for the latter was a martyr to her intermina¬ 
 ble harangues about that delicate chest, or throat, or 
 something or other with which her bantling was afflicted, 
 and by reason of which he should be excused from duty. 
 Once the junior doctor had the temerity to suggest that 
 as Sammy was, according to her account, such a physi¬ 
 cal wreck, it would be impossible for the medical board 
 
 9 * 
 
102 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFTCER. 
 
 to “ pass” him on his graduation; but it was the most 
 unhappy remark “ Squills” ever ventured, for he had 
 bearded a lioness in her den, yea, even in the defense of 
 her sickly cub, and ere long his life was made a burden 
 to him, and his reputation, personally and professionally, 
 began mysteriously to run down-hill. 
 
 Thackeray makes old Major Pendennis hold to the 
 creed of never trusting, above all, never offending a 
 woman, and Mr. X. strove in solemn earnest not to 
 offend this one, but all to no purpose; he was a repre¬ 
 sentative of the tyrannical and outrageous system by 
 which Sammy was brought to punishment, and so—fell 
 under the ban. It would be useless to describe here the 
 ingenuity with which she pursued him, or the scrapes in 
 which he became involved. Years have elapsed since 
 then. Requies^rttf in pace. 
 
 Soon after our pioneer African’s admission to the 
 Academy a change had taken place in the position of 
 commandant of cadets. Our genial old Harry, after five 
 years of valuable service, had been relieved, and the 
 summer of 1870 brought with it the new incumbent. We 
 were in camp when he arrived, and he was soon domi¬ 
 ciled in our midst, as much at home as though he had 
 been among us for a year. Professionally, and by name, 
 he was known to every soldier, regular or State guards¬ 
 man, throughout the United States. Personally, he had 
 but slight acquaintance with the officers of the tactical 
 department, only the senior and junior having ever met 
 him before. Mr. X. is well aware that now he diverges 
 far from the original channel of these articles, and that 
 what follows is in no way appropriate to the title, but, 
 writing of West Point in and after 1870, he can think of 
 
AT WEST POINT. IO3 
 
 nothing without thinking of Upton, and, thinking of him, 
 it is hard not to write. 
 
 It was in 1866 that X. first knew him : the general was 
 then at West Point busy with the preparation of his first 
 system of tactics, and X., a young enthusiast on such 
 subjects, living close to him in the “ officers’ angle” of 
 barracks, was accustomed to spend many an hour listen¬ 
 ing to the exposition of his plans. He had not known 
 the general a week before the conviction dawned upon 
 him that Upton possessed three characteristics to an 
 almost abnormal extent,—frankness, nervous energy, 
 and tireless application. The close acquaintance and 
 friendship that followed years afterwards served only to 
 strengthen that conviction. He came to us in deep 
 mourning in 1870; the recent death of his dearly-loved 
 wife had thrown a pall over his life and hope, but it was 
 evident that he had determined so to environ himself 
 with incessant occupation as to crush out any possibility 
 of morbid mourning. He was even gentler, more sub¬ 
 dued in manner than when X. knew him four years 
 before, and though the winning smile was rarer by far, it 
 was none the less kindly and genial when it came. Up¬ 
 ton’s smile was something that in all these long years 
 of separation X. has never forgotten. His eyes were 
 fully as much involved as the firm mouth under its heavy 
 moustache; indeed, Upton’s eyes were more indicative 
 of his mood than the mouth, for that was almost hidden. 
 
 The first thing the corps of cadets discovered with 
 reference to Upton was that he was desperately in earnest. 
 He detected a certain element of “ slouchiness” among 
 the upper class men, and set to work to crush it out. 
 X. well remembers the horror and indignation with 
 
104 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 which certain first class men received the order to attend 
 “ setting-up” drill until they could learn to carry them¬ 
 selves erect. Some begged permission to remonstrate 
 with their new commandant, but they might as well have 
 talked to the statue of Sedgwick. In ten days the corps 
 had settled down to the dismal realization that here was 
 a man over whom they “ couldn't come it” in the least. 
 
 X. had served under and known several commandants, 
 but none like Upton. He was by long odds the strictest 
 and most exacting. He was the firmest in his convic¬ 
 tions and the most immovable in his decisions. Once 
 determined on a certain move he would carry it through, 
 even at times when he knew that, had he to do it over 
 again, his course would have been different. He was 
 never disheartened, never out of patience, and X. never 
 saw him out of temper. Being in mourning that first 
 summer, the general rarely went anywhere, and spent his 
 evenings in camp. It so happened that X. too was 
 something of a hermit then, and in this way they were 
 thrown together; acquaintance ripened into friendship, 
 and that continued until the rude disruption at the hand 
 of death that came this spring. X. turns sadly enough 
 to his huge scrap-book, wherein grouped together are a 
 number of letters, some of this very year, in the utterly 
 indescribable chirography of the general,—Rufus Choate 
 hardly wrote a hand more unpicturesque,—and there too 
 is a heavy envelope bearing his superscription and ad¬ 
 dressed to the Presidio, across which are the simple 
 words, “Too late.” All last winter (1880-81) we had 
 been in correspondence about the revision,—the revision 
 that now will never trouble him more. 
 
 After camp was over and Mr. X. with the battalion 
 
AT WEST TOINT. 
 
 105 
 
 moved into barracks, the general filled his house with 
 company, relatives of his wife and their friends, and so 
 it happened that he was often compelled to give up his 
 own room. Many and many a night in the winter of 
 1870 and 1871 has he appeared at X.’s rooms in the 
 angle, where his bed was always ready for him. That 
 was his harbor of refuge when crowded out by his own 
 hospitality; and here it was that the friendship ripened 
 almost into intimacy. The first night he came was but 
 the pattern of all that followed. We talked for half 
 an hour or so, then Upton quietly arose, took from his 
 breast-pocket a small Bible, seated himself near the lamp 
 and read in silence awhile, and then when ready for bed 
 he knelt in prayer, and continued on his knees a long 
 time. In all the nights he spent with X. this was never 
 neglected, for Upton was as fervent and earnest in his 
 faith as he was in every detail of his duty. 
 
 The corps did not like him. Cadets seldom do like an 
 officer who is thorough in the performance of his duty. 
 The graceless young scamps dubbed him “ the Christian 
 soldier,” as though there were a possibility of reproach 
 in the combination of terms, and taxed their brains to 
 invent doggerel rhymes at his expense, which they sang 
 when they thought he could hear them and not detect 
 the singers ; but of all this buffoonery Upton was to all 
 appearance serenely unconscious, no word or sign ever 
 betrayed that he even heard the words. There were 
 certain cadet traditions and customs that had existed in 
 his day, and in 1870 still obtained in the corps, against 
 which he declared vigorous war, and thereby intensified 
 the feeling against him among the cadets. They could 
 not but respect him, he was so fair, square, and utterly 
 
io6 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 impartial, but they disliked him all the same for his re¬ 
 lentless discipline. Upton knew this perfectly well, and 
 never made the faintest change or concession to alter the 
 sentiment. He was as strong and independent a man as 
 ever lived, and, whether among the cadets or his officers, 
 unswerving in the enforcement of regulations. 
 
 There was only one point in his mental armor that did 
 not seem absolutely impervious. Allusion has been made 
 to the fact that he ordered all cadets, from first class men 
 down, who were not erect and soldierly in carriage to 
 attend setting-up drill, and Upton himself was not erect. 
 There was a decided roundness of back between the 
 shoulders that gave him almost the appearance of being 
 stoop-shouldered, a fact quickly seized upon and exag¬ 
 gerated by the cadets. In those days he was thin and 
 spare, and his face, deeply lined and seamed, was soldierly 
 in the last degree, but the moment he rose to his feet the 
 defect in his back and shoulders became apparent, and 
 he knew it. On horseback it was worse yet. Upton was 
 what is called a loose rider; he used one of the huge 
 saddles, with schabraque and housings such as were 
 affected by the general officers during the late war, and 
 “ rode over the pommel." Bending way forward as he 
 did, the stoop of the shoulders was exaggerated, and he 
 never appeared to so little advantage as when in the 
 saddle. Whether his wounds were the cause of this or 
 whether the defect was constitutional X. never knew, but 
 that Upton was conscious of it he feels convinced, be¬ 
 cause the general told him he knew it, and that the 
 general was sensitive about it he feels assured, because 
 the general spoke to him of it frequently. 
 
 Speaking of his wounds reminds X. that in the whole 
 
AT WEST POINT. 
 
 107 
 
 time he knew Upton he never once heard him allude to 
 them, and only once or twice did he ever mention his 
 service in the field. Once X. asked him about his cele¬ 
 brated charge at Spottsylvania on the loth of May, when 
 with twelve picked regiments he pierced the rebel centre 
 and captured the guns in his front. Said Upton, “ Well, 
 that day I called up the officers and told them that from 
 the moment we started I wanted to hear not a word from 
 any one of them except ‘ forward ! forward !’ ” but Upton 
 never could be got to say what he thought of Mott’s 
 failure to support him. 
 
 We had frequent visitors that summer ; lots of men of 
 our service came up, and occasionally they were officers 
 of about Upton’s time as cadet. One incident, as illus¬ 
 trative of his modesty or indifference, X. will never 
 forget. The commandant’s tent was a great place for 
 fighting battles o’er again, though he himself rarely, if 
 ever, could be induced to speak of his own. One day 
 six or eight of us were gathered there, and the floor was 
 held by one of those blatant gentlemen who, having 
 graduated before the war (and in this instance before 
 Upton), and having had just as good a chance as the 
 gallant band of ambitious young lieutenants who rose 
 to be generals, had preferred the safety, ease, and slow 
 promotion of mustering and disbursing duty, and whose 
 only brevet was for the farcical service of the “ recruit¬ 
 ment of the armies of the United States.” 
 
 For some reason, or other gentlemen of this stamp 
 always found it necessary to talk more loudly about the 
 war and to be more savagely critical in their remarks 
 than the fellows who had been all through it, and also 
 there was a strong tendency on their part to disparage 
 
io8 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 the services of the successful men, and attribute the pro¬ 
 motion over their heads of such soldiers as Mackenzie, 
 Upton, Merritt, Custer, Webb, and the like to political 
 
 influence. So Major-was holding forth this day 
 
 about luck in the line, and the rest of us were sitting 
 around listening rather disgustedly, when he startled us 
 with this: 
 
 “ Well, now, Upton’s another instance. Of course, I 
 don’t mean to say but what you fought all right when 
 you got a chance, Upton, but you won’t deny that there 
 were fellows who went through the whole war with 
 the regulars, stuck to their regiments or batteries, got 
 wounded time and again, and only got a brevet; but here 
 you are a lieutenant-colonel and never got a scratch /” 
 
 Considering the fact that Upton had been wounded 
 three times in three different engagements, he might have 
 been excused for a pointed reply, but he only smiled 
 quietly, as he sat writing at his desk, and said, “Well, 
 
 -, there are lots of men who think just as you do 
 
 I’ve no doubt.” 
 
 Where that colored cadet was concerned Upton did 
 even more than his whole duty. He considered that the 
 integrity of the Academy was involved in the experiment, 
 and was determined to see that the unprepossessing 
 South Carolinian had fair play. All through that long 
 academic year of 1870 and 1871 he was incessantly on 
 the alert, the faintest complaint of the darky led to 
 immediate and thorough investigation, even though pre¬ 
 vious experiences had established the fact that he was 
 an outrageous liar, and we, the commandant’s assistants, 
 were held to a rigid accountability in all matters relating 
 to the gentleman of color during our tours as officer in 
 
AT WEST POINT. 
 
 IO9 
 
 charge. One afternoon late in the fall of 1872, in speaking 
 of the matter, the general suddenly exclaimed, “ Do you 
 know, X., I’m beginning to believe that the trouble with 
 that darky is that we’ve made altogether too much of 
 him ?” and therein the general had hit the nail upon the 
 head. 
 
 And yet there was an occasion on which the gentle¬ 
 man from South Carolina had been roughly handled, and, 
 had it been allowed to leak out at the time, no doubt the 
 magniloquent press of the country would have expanded 
 the affair into the longed-for outrage, but it didn’t leak 
 out. Mr. X. believes at this day that when the thing 
 happened only three persons were cognizant of the facts 
 in the case: 1st, the colored cadet himself; 2d, an ad¬ 
 mirable and most efficient officer then on duty at the 
 Academy; and, 3d, Mr. X. The first named never saw 
 fit to allude to it, probably because he had the deep 
 sagacity to know that here at least he could not, even by 
 implication, charge the assault upon a cadet, and because 
 the facts in the case would hold him up to deserved scorn 
 and derision; and as for the two officers, the first may or 
 may not have mentioned it to other friends besides Mr. 
 X., but not until long after did the latter speak of it to 
 anybody. 
 
 It happened in this way. One bitter night in February, 
 1871, when the thermometer was away below zero, the 
 sudden alarm of the long roll from the guard-house 
 tumbled the battalion of cadets out of their beds and 
 into their ever-ready “ reveilles.”* Those members of 
 
 * A term given by cadets to the old uniforms and loose easy shoes 
 into which they jump just in time for the early morning roll-call. 
 
 10 
 
no 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 “ B” and “ C ” companies living on the third and fourth 
 floors found themselves almost suffocated by a thick 
 ' stifling smoke, and Mr. X., tearing down the iron stairs 
 six at a leap, found the area of barracks a broad sheet of 
 light, and the whole “ Dialectic” Hall in the very middle 
 of the barracks a mass of flames. We had the old Phila¬ 
 delphia double-decker out in a few seconds and a stream 
 into the south window, while the Cadet Hook and Ladder 
 Company ran its light scaling-ladders from the roof of 
 the barrack porch to the windows above and brought 
 down the young fellows who could not make their way 
 through the smoke; none too soon either, for in three 
 minutes the flames were raging along right and left 
 through the fourth story, and eating their way with in¬ 
 credible fury and rapidity over the entire length of the 
 barracks. That was a dismal night. Dozens of the 
 corps had escaped with only the clothing they could 
 seize at the moment: all were soon coated with ice. 
 Every man had his appropriate duties to perform, either 
 on the brakes of the hand-engines, manning the hose 
 lines of the steamers, or the ladders, or bucket lines ; few 
 had gloves, many only their shell-jackets, but all along 
 until broad daylight those plucky boys toiled unflinch- 
 ingly; wet, frozen, scorched, smoke-blinded by turns, 
 every man was at his post, and the chief engineer of the 
 department as then organized at West Point smiled 
 grimly, as he stood with Upton directing the streams in 
 the glare of the flames at the angle, when the general 
 said, “ Who wouldn’t be proud of the corps of cadets 
 if he could see them to-night ?” 
 
 And yet there was a shirk. With the exception of 
 certain picked men who belonged to the “ crack” hose 
 
AT WEST POINT. 
 
 Ill 
 
 company, then commanded by Cadet Captain Wetmore, 
 and including among its pipe-men such adventurous 
 spirits as “ Tony” Rucker, Davenport, and Birney, all the 
 u A” company cadets belonged to the hand-engine, and 
 had worked manfully at the brakes until the freezing of 
 the valves had rendered their machine useless, when 
 their first sergeant called them off, and their officers 
 formed them into bucket lines up the halls of barracks. 
 Then it was that the word began to be passed, “ Where’s 
 the nigger?” No other cadet was missing,—he was 
 known to be safe, for he lived on the ground-floor, and 
 early in the fight had been seen completely equipped in 
 overcoat, arctics, gloves, and even ear-mufflers, a marked 
 contrast to the majority of his white comrades, who, 
 having turned out in the first things they could lay their 
 hands on, seemed to scorn any addition until they had 
 that fire under control. It was about two o’clock when 
 the alarm sounded, and from that time until somewhere 
 about five not a soul had seen him. The chief engineer, 
 moving from point to point, noting the work of his men 
 and “ verifying their presence,” called upon the soldierly 
 cadet captain of Company “ A” for his report. “ Every 
 man present, sir, and at his post except the n—except 
 Mr. Smith,’’was the reply, and then it seems that the chief 
 muttered something uncomplimentary to the African, 
 and went off about his business. But another officer 
 hearing of the matter, and being a fellow who could 
 stand no nonsense, bethought himself of the fact that 
 not fifty yards away lay the gymnasium, cozily warmed 
 by steam and softly saw-dusted as to its floor. He said 
 nothing, but repaired thither at once ; the door was closed 
 but unlocked ; he opened it and quietly entered. All was 
 
112 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 dark and still save where a faint hissing in a far corner 
 indicated the location of the steam-coil, and to that 
 corner he groped his way, stumbled over something 
 curled up close to the heater, bent down and lifted that 
 something gently but firmly by the ear, calmly escorted 
 that something (by the same means) to the door, and 
 then with one vigorous kick vis a tergo sent the colored 
 cadet flying out into the area of barracks, and for once, 
 anyhow, justice was done the pioneer of his race at the 
 military academy of the nation. 
 
 In the light of the intense satisfaction he derived from 
 hearing of this incident the Radical Republican, Mr. X., 
 forgot that there were such things as tribulations for 
 officers at West Point. He may not have related the 
 outrage just as it occurred, but as he remembers it after 
 this lapse of years, and with its recital gladly brings this 
 paper to a close. 
 
THE TELEPHONE AS AN ADJUNCT. 
 
 113 
 
 THE TELEPHONE AS AN ADJUNCT TO THF 
 
 NATIONAL GUARD. 
 
 The riot alarm struck just at 8.45 as Mr. X. was 
 trudging his way down to the armory. Late as mid¬ 
 night there had been a conference. The mayor, the 
 sheriff, the governor of the State, the general manager 
 of the biggest railway of the Northwest, the adjutant- 
 general of the State,—one of the finest soldiers it has 
 ever been Mr. X.’s lot to be associated with, and of 
 whom he wrote in a previous paper,—and finally Mr. X. 
 himself. The governor knew and had reason to know 
 that the civil authorities could not control the situation. 
 The mayor and the sheriff—both Germans—thought 
 that they might control the mob by some native elo¬ 
 quence of their own. We —the governor, the adjutant- 
 general, and Mr. X., now a colonel and aide-de-camp on 
 the staff of the governor—had convictions to the con¬ 
 trary. We knew the civil authorities could not control 
 the mob, and that nothing short of the sharp arm of the 
 National Guard would put an end to the lawlessness and 
 riot. 
 
 The mob—mostly Germans and Polanders—had swept 
 through the valley of the Menomonee, cleaning out the 
 railway shops, driving workmen from their benches, 
 threatening death to any man who dared to work after 
 their demand, “ acht stunde ” (eight hours), had been acted 
 
 upon by the employers—unless in their interest. The 
 h 10* 
 
114 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 great Allis works—the finest in the West—were closed 
 because the mob threatened the workmen, and the civil 
 authorities were powerless to protect them, and the 
 mammoth rolling-mills far down towards the South Point 
 were to be the next object of attack. 
 
 Out in the Menomonee Valley worse things prevailed. 
 There lay the great shops of the Milwaukee and St. Paul 
 Railway Company, every man driven from his bench, the 
 round-house, the machine-shops, the repair-shops, with 
 a thousand plucky employes; yet, having no organiza¬ 
 tion, no leader, no arms, they had been driven from their 
 places by a mob of frenzied Polanders and “ low Ger¬ 
 mans,” and the municipal authorities, with a reserve of 
 fifty police, and the county magnates, with the sheriff 
 and his posse comitatus , and the Teutonic eloquence of 
 the two combined could effect nothing. Neither one 
 would risk his political chances by declaring war against 
 the vagabonds that had already despoiled the city’s fair 
 name. Neither dared to call in certain aid against the 
 German name; both knew that, while at the outset the 
 strike was begun by honest but misguided workmen, in 
 less than twenty-four hours the strikers were re-enforced 
 by all the thugs, thieves, and blackguards that could be 
 found in a population of two hundred thousand,—mostly 
 foreigners,—and, above all, that they were now being 
 hourly incited by the furious speeches of avowed Anar¬ 
 chist leaders to proceed at once to the enforcement of 
 their demands by the application of the torch and their 
 own peculiar explosive, dynamite. It was known and 
 well known that the Anarchists had been drilling under 
 arms for weeks ahead, and the mayor himself knew, five 
 days before the great parade, under the red flag, of the 
 
THE TELEPHONE AS AN ADJUNCT. 11 5 
 
 2d of May, that every pawnbroker’s or second-hand 
 shop in town had been gutted of its arms. 
 
 Knowing well the evil elements in the population, 
 strenuous efforts had been made for some time before¬ 
 hand by our adjutant-general to get the National Guard 
 into shape for business. We had three pretty good 
 regiments in the State and one battalion of infantry of 
 four companies in the metropolis. But a crack troop of 
 cavalry and a light battery manned by an admirably- 
 drilled complement of cannoneers, all dashing young 
 Americans, were our local main-stays. Of course we 
 were balked by demagogue politicians in the Legislature, 
 and the governor himself was for a long time reluctant 
 to believe that there was any necessity for this prepara¬ 
 tion. He showed the stuff he was made of, however, 
 one night at a convention of the officers of the National 
 Guard, when Mr. X. had inflicted upon them a long 
 lecture on riot duty. No sooner had the lecturer finished 
 than up rose the commander-in-chief. Six feet three in 
 his stockings, with a head and mane and beard like a 
 gray lion, massive and impressive, the biggest man of 
 the hundreds in the senate chamber. 
 
 “ Gentlemen,” he shouted, “ I want to say one thing 
 right now. Colonel X. is all right except in just one 
 point,—in his instructions and warnings about the way 
 you receive orders from mayors and marshals and 
 sheriffs. Don’t you worry about that! Whenever the 
 time comes for you to tackle a mob in this State, I’ll be 
 thar as quick as you can, and you'll get your orders from 
 me .” 
 
 The applause that greeted the chief was deafening; 
 but could we have looked ahead a brace of years and 
 
Il6 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 seen how superbly that stalwart promise was to be re¬ 
 deemed, the dome of the capitol would not have stood 
 the uproar. 
 
 However, as the spring of ’86 wore on, the adjutant- 
 general at the capital and Mr. X. in the metropolis were 
 in almost daily communication. 
 
 The latter was advised to keep constant watch on the 
 situation, and the days were rare when he was not riding 
 through the very large districts occupied by the Po- 
 landers and the socialistic Germans, and sending his 
 conclusions to his superior. The detectives willingly 
 told him all they knew, but the chief of police (a Ger¬ 
 man of most kindly and affable character, who had 
 recently stepped into the position with no knowledge 
 whatever of police or detective work and no aptitude for 
 either, but simply because the mayor, a German, wanted 
 a German in that place) deprecated all rumors of threat¬ 
 ening meetings among the Germans, and as the governor 
 had, among his political advisers and henchmen at the 
 capital, several Germans (and one of the lowest of low 
 Germans) on his staff, it seemed impossible for the 
 adjutant-general to induce him even to order the ammuni¬ 
 tion so desperately needed at the metropolis. (We had 
 not three rounds per man of rifle, carbine, or pistol am¬ 
 munition. As for the battery, they had neither shell nor 
 canister.) 
 
 A shrewd politician was the old chief. He did not 
 mean to let any man brand him as an intimidator; but, 
 just at the fag end of April, he concluded to drop in 
 and take a look for himself, and what he saw and 
 heard seemed to bring about instantaneous change. 
 He whisked back to the capital and wired at once to 
 
THE TELEPHONE AS AN ADJUNCT. 117 
 
 Rock Island for ball cartridge enough to clean out a 
 corps d'armee —provided they hit. Even then, however, 
 he did not mean to show his teeth. Mr. X. got orders 
 to meet the first instalment at the station as the train 
 came in, and there, with some stout drays in readiness, 
 that officer received several innocent-looking dry-goods 
 boxes, variously inscribed “ overcoats,” “ blankets,” etc., 
 but the draymen wondered at the marvelous weight. In 
 an hour more the veteran quartermaster-sergeant of the 
 “ Light Horse,” with the assistance of one man, had 
 knocked those boxes to flinders and lugged their con¬ 
 tents down into the vaults of the armory,—and only 
 three men knew that thirty thousand rounds were ready. 
 
 On Sunday, May 2, with red flags innumerable, the 
 Anarchists, Socialists, and—sorry day for them that ever 
 they took up with such company—thousands of Knights 
 of Labor, made their big parade. At the fine stone armory 
 of the Light Horse,—which they built themselves, as 
 the State declined to,—in the quarters of the troop and 
 of that gallant Irish company, “ The Sheridan Guard,” 
 a couple of dozen quiet men in civilian dress looked 
 grimly from the windows, making no reply to occasional 
 demonstrations of hatred and defiance from the proces¬ 
 sion. No disturbance occurred; no one interfered with 
 the picnic; but the next morning the riot burst forth 
 with the rising sun all over the manufacturing districts, 
 and in twelve hours our fair city was in the hands of a 
 howling mob, with a German mayor, a German sheriff, 
 a German chief of police, whose force was largely made 
 up of Germans, and all of whom owed their positions to 
 the preponderance of German voters, as our sole legal 
 barrier against anarchy and ruin. 
 
118 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 At eight o’clock that night Mr. X. was drilling the bat¬ 
 tery in the use of small arms with which to defend their 
 wooden armory, far up-town and close to the “ Polack” 
 settlements (shell and canister still they had none), and 
 at ten he received a dispatch to report at once to the 
 governor, who was hastening in by special train. 
 
 It was about midnight that the conference aforemen¬ 
 tioned was going on. The governor was eager to take 
 hold at once, but could not unless the local authorities 
 begged his aid, and this, after much “palaver,” they 
 finally declined to do. 
 
 It was about I a.m., therefore, that the general manager, 
 whose shops, round-houses, etc., had all been cleaned out, 
 and whose elevators, rolling-stock, etc., were now threat¬ 
 ened, called in his division superintendent. 
 
 “ Then it is understood, gentlemen, that we can have 
 no further protection than you have given us thus far?” 
 
 The mayor and sheriff began to explain that they 
 looked for better things on the morrow, but finally ad¬ 
 mitted that no further force was to be used. 
 
 “ That ends it, then.” And he turned to his assistant: 
 “ Give orders to close up everything, Mr. Collins.” 
 
 “Very good, Mr. Miller.” 
 
 And so the conference ended. 
 
 All the same, we had our orders for the morrow. And 
 sure enough, about 8 o’clock a.m. the civic authorities 
 threw up the sponge and fled to the governor for aid, and 
 at 8.45 all over the city the fire-bells were clanging, as 
 aforesaid, the stirring riot alarm. X. made a quick run 
 for the armory and was getting into uniform in the 
 officers’ room, while the troop was rapidly assembling in 
 the riding-hall and the Sheridans were darting up the 
 
THE TELEPHONE AS AN ADJUNCT. 119 
 
 stairs to their quarters on the second floor. Then the 
 telephone in the office began its “ R-r-r-r-r-r-ring,” and 
 just then in came the chief and the adjutant-general. 
 The first news was that the “ Polacks” were threatening 
 the battery armory. The guns were in danger, and be¬ 
 tween listening at the ’phone with one ear and to arriving 
 officers with the other, the governor’s first order was to 
 have those guns run down here as quick as possible. 
 Mr. X. was put in command of the troop, battery, and 
 the infantry at the Central station. In forty minutes 
 every command in town was reported by wire as ready 
 for duty at its armory. 
 
 An orderly sent to the battery armory came back on 
 the run to say they couldn’t move their guns because 
 they had no horses, and Mr. X. was in saddle in short 
 order and trotting northward with a few troopers to 
 “stir them up.” It was a quick case of “ man the pole, 
 splinter bar, and wheels.” Then the guns were in the 
 street and rolling leisurely down-town, a small guard was 
 left with carbines and abundant ammunition, and, with 
 cannoneers somewhat blown and vastly astonished, those 
 guns were soon parked in the big riding-hall. Mean¬ 
 time, the Fourth Battalion, under its German major, had 
 rapidly assembled and been whirled off by special train 
 to “ Bay View,” where a great mob was already gathering 
 about the rolling-mills; a knot of excited citizens were 
 clattering around the governor; an expert “ telephonist” 
 was at the instrument rapidly transmitting messages to 
 and from the chief or adjutant-general. Every company 
 of the First Infantry, as far out as Darlington on the line 
 of the Southern branch of the railway, fully one hundred 
 and fifty miles, had reported ready and only waiting for 
 
120 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 the cars; some were already en route. We knew that by 
 3.30 we would be re-enforced by at least four companies, 
 with others coming close on their heels ; but meantime 
 said the excited citizens, what was to become of the Allis 
 works, the stove-works, the great flour-mills, the mag¬ 
 nificent elevators, and, above all, the breweries? Mobs 
 were gathering around each and every one, so declared 
 each new arrival, and X. and his cavalry were kept on the 
 jump whisking around town and exploding these canards. 
 There wasn’t a mob at any one of these points that a 
 platoon couldn’t have larruped. But at one of the great 
 German gardens there was a throng,—half honest arbeiter , 
 half “ toughs,”—listening to blood-curdling harangues 
 from their leaders, and these fellows we reconnoitred from 
 time to time, while solid ranks of police stood near the 
 gates. 
 
 Down at Bay View the battalion—very badly handled— 
 had been drawn within the gates by a species of march 
 by the flank in single file through a crowd that followed 
 them with imprecations and brickbats and nearly over¬ 
 whelmed the rearmost company, which was composed, 
 oddly enough, mainly of Polanders, but of a better class. 
 A dozen panicky shots were fired which seemed to set 
 everybody to running, and our expert at the telephone 
 was kept dancing and shouting at the instrument for a full 
 half-hour, when suddenly the thing joined the strikers 
 and refused to work. 
 
 “ Our line’s cut, sir, between here and the Central,” 
 was the quick report. 
 
 “ Run up another, and be lively,” said the chief. 
 
 Then came the order for Mr. X. and the cavalry to 
 speed forth again, this time to tackle a gang at the rail* 
 
THE TELEPHONE AS AN ADJUNCT. 
 
 121 
 
 way depot, where they were gathered with the evident 
 idea of making it lively for the in-coming troops. We 
 found them ugly, blasphemous, and obscene, but not 
 dangerous. The first platoon cleared the needed space 
 in ten seconds without firing a shot or delivering a whack 
 with the sabre. The other three formed facing outward, 
 so that we had a big, clear rectangle three hundred yards 
 long, and here in fifteen minutes formed the arriving 
 infantry and a mysterious little four-wheeled wagon. 
 “ Verdamptes mitrailleuse /” exclaimed one of the scowlers 
 on the sidewalk. We were off for the armory in a 
 moment more, covering the broad streets from curb to 
 curb, but the mob did not follow with so much as a 
 pebble. 
 
 Except a brief disagreement between a battalion of the 
 First Infantry and an overwhelming gang that had driven 
 the police “ galley west,” nothing of consequence occurred 
 in town that afternoon or evening. Fast as the troops 
 arrived they were sent to important points,—one little 
 detachment out to the railway shops; a stronger one, 
 four companies, to the Allis works; others to re-enforce 
 Mr. X. at the Central station, which, said the police, the 
 rioters meant to attack in force and rescue the ringleaders 
 and rioters “ run in” during the day. 
 
 But the main anxiety was about Bay View as the late 
 hours of the evening came round. 
 
 Whatever the German major might think, he had two 
 or three timorous parties on his staff who were perpetually 
 wailing over the telephone that their position was most 
 hazardous; the mob was all around them in heavy force ; 
 burning freight-cars, etc. Couldn't more troops be sent? 
 
 The governor learned by ten at night that furious 
 
12 2 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 meetings had been held in various resorts on the South 
 Side, and that a genuine uprising had taken place among 
 the Poles, who, in response to the rabid harangues of 
 their leaders, resolved to march in full numbers on the 
 following morning, strip the insolent militia of their arms, 
 and drive them into the lake. As a consequence, two 
 American companies appeared on the right of the bat¬ 
 talion line, making six in all, when the vast mob, waving 
 the flags of anarchy and of some socialistic society over 
 their heads, came thronging into view on the morning of 
 the 4th of May. 
 
 Meantime, the governor, over the telephone, had had 
 brief converse with the commander. We were, indeed, 
 “ getting our orders from him,” and they were brief and 
 explicit,— 
 
 “ If that mob marches on you in the morning, open fire, 
 sir, and drive ’em back.” 
 
 It so happened that Mr. X. was in the office the next 
 morning when the worn-out orderly at the telephone 
 suddenly called for the governor. 
 
 “ Message from Bay View, sir. The mob’s advancing.” 
 
 The chief sprang to the instrument and sung out, 
 “ Hullo ! Hey ? That you, major ? What do you say ? 
 They’re coming, are they ? Then give it to ’em ! Fire 
 at once!” 
 
 And with one volley the back-bone of local anarchy 
 was broken. 
 
 There was tremendous uproar and excitement that day 
 in our city. The mobs were everywhere, but the main 
 body was gathered at their big garden on the West Side. 
 Mr. X. had only the troop and two companies of infantry 
 with him when at two o’clock the police telephoned that 
 
THE TELEPHONE AS AN ADJUNCT. 
 
 I23 
 
 they were completely overwhelmed at that point; that 
 they were being fired on and driven, and they wanted 
 “ all the help that could be sent them.” 
 
 “ Now, I want this thing stopped for good and all,” 
 said the chief. “ Here, X., take the Light Horse and 
 what infantry you have and wind it up.” 
 
 In fifteen minutes we were there. The Light Horse 
 pulled the police out of the hole they were in; the 
 infantry silently and sternly drove back the howling gang 
 until we had all the space we needed and complete com¬ 
 mand of the position. The mob fell back a block away 
 in every direction. Some stones were thrown, but none 
 reached us. Then we got up the patrol wagons, made 
 sudden dashes into the mob, gathered in man after man 
 until we had the carts crammed three deep with cowed 
 or cursing “ toughs,” but never a move was made to 
 rescue them. Never another stone was thrown. Every 
 time a platoon of horse started up either street, away 
 would go the crowd full tilt; the big garden had not an 
 occupant, and we had not had to pull trigger once. 
 Finally the little command rode back through streets 
 crammed with rioters an hour before and brought its 
 cart-loads of “ toughs” to the police station. That night 
 in Chicago was the tragedy of the dynamite bomb in 
 Haymarket with the slaughter of so many brave men, 
 but when we got back from the garden we had the local 
 leaders and the orators behind the bars, and our mob 
 had played its last card. 
 
 All the same, the guard had to be kept up. The 
 governor left for his hotel; the adjutant-general was sud¬ 
 denly called to the capitol, and Mr. X. was left supreme 
 at head-quarters, and was ass enough to tell the worn-out 
 
124 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 telephonist he might go until morning. Not until this 
 eventful night did he learn the real character of the tele¬ 
 phone as an adjunct to military operations. He had had 
 no sleep for thirty-six hours, and meant to get it now. 
 Guards, sentries, pickets, and patrols were all provided 
 for. The captain of the Light Horse moved in with 
 him, and on a couple of cots they stretched themselves, 
 boots, spurs, and all. Then it began,— 
 
 R-r-r-r-r-ring! 
 
 Up jumps Mr. X. and seizes the “ear trumpet.” 
 
 “Hello!” 
 
 “ Oh—all right. That’s you, X. How’re you all 
 getting on ?” comes back in the sonorous voice of the 
 governor. 
 
 “ All serene. Every man asleep except the guard.” 
 
 “ Well. A report has just come to me that Caldwell’s 
 command out at the car-shops-” 
 
 Plkt. Whr-r-r-r-r-r! 
 
 And the governor’s firm tones are suddenly replaced 
 by a shrill, distant, high-pitched feminine communi¬ 
 cation,— 
 
 “An’ I just told her that I wouldn’t stand it from her 
 or any other-” 
 
 Mr. X. grasps the crank with indignant hand: 
 
 R-r-r-r-ring! 
 
 A voice, sweet and placid—feminine of course—re¬ 
 sponds,— 
 
 “ Ye—es ? What is it, Armory ?” 
 
 “ I was just receiving a very important message from 
 the governor and was cut off in the midst of it.” 
 
 “ From whom ?” still sweetly. 
 
 “ From the governor.” 
 
THE TELEPHONE AS AN ADJUNCT. 1 25 
 
 “ Ye—es ? What governor ?” 
 
 “ Why, good Gbeg your pardon—the governor of the 
 State, Governor R-. Find him right off.” 
 
 “ Where was he ?” 
 
 “ Don’t know. Try the hotel.” 
 
 “ Who shall I say wants him ?” sweeter yet. 
 
 “ Colonel X., at the armory.” 
 
 “ What at the armory?” 
 
 “No matter!” (vehemently). “Just tell him the 
 armory only got part of his message. I’ll stay right 
 here.” 
 
 Presently the same sweet, placid voice,— 
 
 “ All right, here’s the governor.” 
 
 Next, explosively, “ And if you allow such a thing to 
 occur again you’ll never hear the last of it.” 
 
 Mr. X. (aghast).—“ Why, what in blazes has gone 
 wrong, governor?” 
 
 “ Good Lord! That you, X. ? Thought I was still 
 talking with those blankety idiots at the Central. Why, 
 they’ve cut me off three times to-night in the midst of 
 important matter-” 
 
 “ Well,—pardon me,—but there’s no telling how soon 
 they’ll do it again. What were you saying about Cald¬ 
 well ?” 
 
 “ Great Scott! Didn’t you get that ? Why, I directed 
 you to-” 
 
 “ Armory! Armory! Are you through yet ?” It’s 
 the sweet voice at the Central. 
 
 “ Through ! Not by a—(gulp)—good deal. Give me 
 the governor again.” 
 
 Three minutes anxious waiting. Then, sweet as be¬ 
 fore,— 
 
 11* 
 
126 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 “ Armory, are you there ? Oh ! Well, the governor 
 isn’t there any more. He’s gone away!” 
 
 Mr. X. makes a jump for his sabre, and the stalwart 
 captain of the Light Horse tumbles out of his blanket 
 with the query, “ What’s wrong ?” 
 
 “ Don’t know. You stay here in charge. I’ve got to 
 find the chief.” 
 
 A cab whirls Mr. X. over to the hotel, and there he 
 finds the governor, beaming. He is surrounded by 
 prominent citizens congratulating him, and by reporters 
 taking notes. He comes forward at once to greet his 
 staff-officer. 
 
 “ Did you get my message ?” 
 
 “ No, sir. It seemed impossible.” 
 
 “ Well, it’s all right as it turned out. Some railway 
 people hurried in to tell me the mob were firing their 
 cars in the valley and that Caldwell was unable to pre¬ 
 vent it, but the manager had his own telephone, and 
 found out that there was nothing in it. The town’s full 
 of rumors.” 
 
 “ Then, if there’s nothing else, governor, I’ll go back 
 to my post.” 
 
 “ All comfortable up there ?” 
 
 “Well, the men are, but I’ve a mind to take an ax 
 and demolish that infernal telephone. I apprehend we’re 
 to have a lively night with it.” 
 
 Back to the big armory. In the riding-hall and stables 
 seventy horses, in the troop quarters sixty-five men, and 
 in the battery-rooms as many; in the drill-hall and 
 company-rooms nearly three hundred infantry, all peace¬ 
 fully resting from their labors. In the head-quarters 
 office, the liveliest monologue, interspersed, like the 
 
THE TELEPHONE AS AN ADJUNCT. 
 
 127 
 
 conversation of old Mexican War Patten, with vivid 
 blasphemy. It is the stalwart leader of the Light Horse 
 who holds the floor—and the telephone. 
 
 “ Here, take this thing!” he says, as X. enters. 
 “ Damned if I don’t believe the Central has swapped 
 with the lunatic asylum to-night.—Hey? What did 
 you ask ?” And again he addresses the conscienceless 
 instrument. Pause, while Mr. X. throws off his sabre 
 and gauntlets. “ No ! But you can just tell the man¬ 
 ager that if we are cut off again to-night while important 
 messages are coming or going, I’ll be hanged if we don’t 
 send a guard over there and take possession ourselves. 
 Now give us Bay View again. Here’s Colonel X.” 
 
 “ What’s wrong at Bay View, captain ?” asks X., as 
 he takes his station at the instrument. 
 
 “ Why, they report firing. I couldn’t make out where; 
 and right in the midst of it some d—d newspaper chips 
 in to know if we’ve got one of their reporters here as a 
 prisoner. I had just time to say I’d find out right off, 
 and if we had we’d hang him, when they were switched 
 off and the commander at the Allis works asked if we had 
 any information of a mob’s coming that way and-” 
 
 “ Hold on a moment,” says X. “ What is it, Central?” 
 
 “ Oh! I beg pardon,” the sweet voice again: “ I 
 thought this was the armory. Never mind.” 
 
 “ It is the armory,” yells X., in desperation. “ I’ve 
 just got back.” 
 
 But the sole reply is a distant “ Whr-r-r-r-r-r-r— 
 Pick /” 
 
 R-r-r-r-r-ring—r-ring—r-r-r-ing-ing, trolls the bell in 
 response to vigorous twirling, and presently—that in¬ 
 domitably sweet voice,— 
 
128 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 “ Ye—es ? That you, Armory ? Thought you’d gone.” 
 
 “ Gone ? We can’t go! Now, for goodness’ sake, 
 give me Ray View—quick !” 
 
 “ Bay View ? Why they’ve been talking the last half- 
 hour, and finally got disgusted because you wouldn’t 
 answer. I’ll try what I can do.” 
 
 A few moments’suspense; then, “ Yes. Here they 
 are.” 
 
 “ Hello, Bay View! What’s the matter?” 
 
 “ Why, Colonel X., we’ve been trying to get you the 
 last twenty minutes. This is Major A., of the staff. The 
 outposts and sentries towards town report heavy firing 
 about the Allis works and-” 
 
 Plkt! “Armory ! Here’s somebody who must speak 
 with you at once.” (The sweet voice again.) 
 
 “ Drive ahead,” says X., all a-quiver. “ It’s the Allis 
 works, no doubt, and they’re attacked.” 
 
 A shrill small voice : “Armory! Armory! Can’t you 
 answer? I’ve been trying to get you all night.” 
 
 “ Here we are; but for Heaven’s sake be quick.” 
 
 “ Well—who is this ?” 
 
 “ Colonel X.” 
 
 “ Colonel who ?” 
 
 “ Colonel X.” 
 
 “ Well, I don’t know whether . you’re the gentleman 
 Mrs. Ferguson wanted to speak with or not. She’s got 
 company now down in the parlor. I’ll run and see. Just 
 you hold the line a-” 
 
 “Hi! Central!” shouts X. “Shut off that gabbling 
 idiot and give me the Allis works—quick.” 
 
 “Shut off what?” (sweetly). “Please speak a little 
 lower and stand just a little farther back.” 
 
THE TELEPHONE AS AN ADJUNCT. 
 
 129 
 
 “ Oh, never mind. Ring up the Allis works at once.” 
 
 Presently the Allis works. 
 
 “ Maj'or, is everything all right. Have you had any 
 trouble ?” 
 
 “ Nothing ’cept half a dozen toughs tried to set fire to 
 the fence. We rounded ’em up before they knew it. 
 A nother two tried to disarm one of my sentries. He 
 knocked one of them silly with a ‘ butt to the front,’ and 
 the other’s lying here with a-” 
 
 “ Pardon me, but have you had an attack ? any firing— 
 any approach from a mob ?” 
 
 “No such luck! I wish to goodness they would 
 come.” 
 
 Then for an hour brisk inquiries and answers to and 
 from the various detached posts, only to find that there 
 had been no firing, no aggressive move. Then midnight, 
 and the post-commander finds himself worn out. 
 
 “ Central!” he calls. 
 
 “ Ye—es,” sweetly. 
 
 “ We are about used up now. Please give positive 
 directions that except it be important military business 
 we are not rung up again to-night.” 
 
 “Very well. Pm tired too, and go home in five 
 minutes; but I’ll see you are not disturbed. Good - 
 night.” 
 
 And then Mr. X., played out, with a sigh of mingled 
 weariness and relief, throws himself upon his bunk. The 
 big captain rises, takes his sabre, and says,— 
 
 “ Hope to goodness you can get a little rest now. Pm 
 going out to look after my guards and outposts. Back 
 in half an hour.” 
 
 One more message presently routs Mr. X. out again. 
 
130 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 A high city official warns head-quarters that immense 
 crowds have attended all the “ indignation meetings” 
 held throughout the city, and mean to assault the armory 
 in the morning to release their prisoners. “ They have 
 dynamite.” 
 
 “ So have we—lots of it. Good-night.” 
 
 Finally, drowsiness, oblivion—then, R-r-r-r-r-r-ing 
 . . . r-r-ring! Loud, urgent, imperative. One bound 
 takes Mr. X. to the telephone. 
 
 “ Hello !” 
 
 “ Oh, Armory ! I’m so glad to get you at last.” (The 
 voice is feminine, but pleasant, motherly, benevolent.) 
 “ I tried to get you several times this evening, but when 
 I could get the wire you were busy, and when you 
 responded I had visitors whom I could not well leave.” 
 (Ah! Mrs. Ferguson herself at last.) “ I wanted to 
 inquire about Willy Simpson. His mother and I are old 
 friends, and she telephoned me to say she had to leave 
 town, and please to have a motherly eye over him in case 
 of injury or trouble.” 
 
 “ No man of that name in this command has been 
 wounded or injured in any way, madame.” 
 
 “ You’re sure of that, are you ? I couldn’t go to bed 
 without knowing, and my friends have just left me—but, 
 who is this ?” 
 
 “ Colonel X., madame.” 
 
 “ Oh, yes. Well, you know Willy, of course.” 
 
 “ I regret to say I do not—personally. What does he 
 belong to ?” 
 
 “ Indeed, I’m not sure ; but its the military—the militia, 
 
 you know. If Captain S-were there, perhaps he 
 
 could tell.” 
 
THE TELEPHONE Aa AN ADJUNCT. 131 
 
 Enter at this instant Captain S-from his tour of 
 
 inspection, and X. gladly hands over the case to him. 
 
 “ What can I do for you, Mrs. Ferguson. This is 
 Captain S-begins the one-sided colloquy. 
 
 “ Willy Simpson, did you say ? No, I don’t know him. 
 And you say you don’t know what he belongs to?” 
 
 “ H’m ! Yes. We’ve got as many as five hundred. 
 There’s the Light Horse, the battery, and about six 
 companies of infantry. I don’t see how you could speak 
 with him to-night.” 
 
 “ Oh, yes ! He must be here ; but you wouldn’t ask 
 me to wake every one of the five hundred up to inquire 
 if he was Willy Simpson ?” 
 
 “ No, madame; I’ll do it in the morning, but I cannot 
 now. It is simply impossible.” 
 
 “ Very well, madame, good-night.” 
 
 “ See here, now, Central, that’s enough of that sort of 
 thing for one night,—and don’t you forget it!” 
 
 Then, with a comical grin on his tired face, the captain 
 turns to Mr. X. 
 
 “ What do you suppose the blessed old lady routed 
 us out at this hour for?” 
 
 Mr. X. is at a loss to conjecture. 
 
 “ She says she must write to ‘ Willy’s’ mother the first 
 thing in the morning, and she wants to be able to tell her 
 that the pies she sent him were safely received.” 
 
 R-r-r-r-r-ing! 
 
132 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 MILITIA INSPECTIONS. 
 
 It was in the spring of 1885 that Mr. X. was notified 
 by the adjutant-general of the State that, in addition to 
 his duties as aide-de-camp, he was named assistant in¬ 
 spector-general, and would be required to make the 
 inspections as prescribed by law that season. We were 
 still a “ granger” State. The old militia laws were, many 
 of them, still in existence; but, like the militia, hardly 
 in force. Our legislators were men deeply imbued with 
 the idea that these new organizations, springing up and 
 drilling assiduously, were nothing but revivals of the 
 old “ ante-bellum ” target companies, whose sole object 
 was to parade the streets in swell uniforms, and have an 
 occasional ball or picnic. We had wrestled hard with 
 these Solons, and had striven to make them understand 
 that here in the Badger State we were endeavoring to 
 bring about the renaissance so thoroughly accomplished 
 in Pennsylvania and other commonwealths in the East. 
 We wanted to organize the Guard on a business basis; 
 disband the show companies; abolish the old swallow¬ 
 tailed coats; introduce uniform instruction and disci¬ 
 pline; make the command, in short, available for duty. 
 But it was uphill work. Ours is a mixed community, 
 and the representatives of the people were, of course, 
 mixed in equal proportion,—so were their ideas. It 
 seemed impossible to get most of them to understand 
 the situation. “ If the boys want to git uniforms and 
 
MILITIA INSPECTIONS. 
 
 133 
 
 play soldiers let ’em pay for ’em, that’s what I say. The 
 people ain’t a-goin’ to do it,” said the member from 
 Koshtowoc, as he banged the table with his fist and 
 looked triumphantly around upon his colleagues, sure 
 of support and applause. 
 
 That patient and diplomatic official, our adjutant- 
 general, explained, however, that the riots of ’77 had 
 taught Pennsylvania the need of a disciplined State force. 
 Ohio had learned the bitter results of neglect in the 
 destruction of Cincinnati’s court-house and records, with 
 lamentable bloodshed as an accompaniment. Chicago 
 had twice been at the mercy of her thugs and black¬ 
 guards, and had to call for regulars to help her out of 
 the mire. We did not want that said of our metropolis. 
 
 But the satirical Solon was not to be alarmed by 
 “ modern instances.” “ I don’t fear anything of that kind 
 here,” he said. “ The good sense of the people will 
 stand between us and harm. We have no rioters and 
 thugs.” (Sixteen months afterwards our metropolis was 
 in the hands of a mob of anarchists, socialists, etc., and 
 the civil authorities begging for troops.) “ If there’s 
 any trouble here we’ll just call out the old Grand Army 
 of the Republic boys. They’ll settle it.” And in so say¬ 
 ing the orator from Koshtowoc winked at his associates 
 on the committee and nodded to the note-taking reporter. 
 That remark was warranted to “ make him solid with 
 the boys” in his district. And so our committee fell 
 back with distinct sense of defeat. 
 
 All the same, the adjutant-general was not the man to 
 give up. It was a holy cause; and if we couldn’t get 
 what we ought to have, we would do the best with the 
 means at hand. 
 
 12 
 
134 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 At this time the authorized force of the State con¬ 
 sisted of thirty-four companies of infantry, a troop of 
 cavalry, and a battery of light artillery. The support 
 allowed them was three hundred dollars a year, each, for 
 armory rent, and five dollars per man for uniforms. 
 Three regiments were formed of ten companies each, 
 and in our city one battalion of four companies. The 
 law required each company to be inspected once a year 
 between the 1st of May and the 1st of November, at its 
 own station and in its own armory; and, with admirable 
 economic spirit, provided that the officer making the 
 inspection should receive no pay whatever, but might be 
 reimbursed by mileage for the ’necessary traveling ex¬ 
 penses. 
 
 Deeply interested as he had been in the troops of his 
 State in the days when he was big enough to be made 
 marker of the First Regiment, long before the war, Mr. 
 X. had read the newspaper accounts of these annual 
 inspections with unflagging zeal, and had high expecta¬ 
 tions accordingly. 
 
 It had been the custom for some years for different 
 staff-officers to inspect the commands nearest their 
 homes, and as many or most of these gentry were 
 selected because of some political “ pull,” and rarely 
 because of any knowledge or experience in the military 
 art, it is perhaps easy to account for the similarity be¬ 
 tween the journalistic accounts of these ordeals. One 
 will suffice for the lot. We quote from the Daily Re¬ 
 porter : 
 
 “ MILITARY INSPECTION AND DRILL. 
 
 “Last night the Guards were formally inspected and reviewed by 
 General Blank, of the governor’s staff. The company under Captain- 
 
MILITIA INSPECTIONS. 
 
 135 
 
 made a splendid appearance as it filed into the drill-room, and, as each 
 man answered ‘ here,’ and brought his musket down with a bang when 
 the orderly called his name, every spectator felt a thrill of pride at their 
 martial bearing. 
 
 “ After the drill, which was executed with the precision of veterans, 
 the silent manual and the drum-tap movements being especially fine, the 
 general addressed the boys, highly complimenting them upon their disci¬ 
 pline and efficiency, and congratulating the citizens of our thriving town 
 
 upon having so admirable a band of defenders. Captain-made an 
 
 appropriate reply, and Orderly-called for three cheers for the gen¬ 
 
 eral, which were given with a will. Then, headed by Zimmerman’s band, 
 the Guards marched to Tony Schlaeger’s, where speeches, songs, and 
 foaming lager wound up an enjoyable evening. 
 
 “ Confidentially, the general told our reporter that he had never seen 
 
 anywhere such precision in drill, and that the-Guards could not be 
 
 excelled even by the famous Seventh Regiment of New York City.” 
 
 When the general inspected the Rifles at Washabaw 
 the following evening, he appears to have been similarly- 
 impressed by the sight of that fine command, so said the 
 Washabaw Journal. And so in like manner were the 
 various staff-officers, until the spring of ’82, when we got 
 a war-horse for a governor and an energetic soldier for 
 adj utant-general. 
 
 Barring a possible, and most natural, leaning to the 
 Grand Army of the Republic, and an unflinching faith 
 that, with a squad of his old boys, armed with the old 
 gas-pipe of a muzzle-loader, he could clean out a whole 
 company of these new-fangled things, the Executive did 
 pretty well by his troops, and the adjutant-general did all 
 the inspecting that year and for a year or so later, he 
 being by law adjutant- and inspector-general of the State. 
 Then, having paved the way, he called in Mr. X., and 
 that officer began to work on the lines indicated, and 
 for the first time had an opportunity of visiting at their 
 
136 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 quarters the Guards and Rifles and other commands of 
 whose efficiency the local press had spoken in such 
 glowing terms. 
 
 There was a time, years before the war, when, with 
 broad white crossed belts, glittering breastplate, and low- 
 hung cartridge-box and bayonet scabbards, with high 
 bear-skin shakos, and the slow, stately movement of 
 Scott’s tactics, the old swallow-tailed coat looked well; 
 but to see a swallow-tailed coat with loose trousers, no 
 cross-belts, no tall shakos, nothing but a waist-belt and 
 a forage-cap, the thing seemed incongruous in the last 
 degree; but that was the way Mr. X. found many of the 
 companies of the State when he made his rounds in 1885. 
 
 As luck would have it, one of the first companies 
 visited was the “Veteran Rifles,” which had been pro¬ 
 nounced by General Blank, three years before, the equals 
 of the New York Seventh, and, quite possibly, had so 
 considered themselves ever since. 
 
 The captain met the new inspector with a fine flourish 
 at the door of the armory, and informed him that the 
 boys were ready whenever he chose to appear. The 
 inspector told the captain that he would like him to dis¬ 
 miss his company, and then let him see the first sergeant 
 form it and call the roll. Ranks being broken, the first 
 sergeant gave the command, “ Fall in, Veteran Rifles!” 
 and the men took their places in rank, not without con¬ 
 siderable pushing and an infinite amount of looking 
 about, laughing, and talking. The file-closers made no 
 attempt to check this performance, the lieutenants fell in 
 with the file-closers, and the captain stood with folded 
 arms where he could look on, but in no way did he 
 interfere with the work of the omnipotent “ orderly.” 
 
MILITIA INSPECTIONS. 
 
 137 
 
 That official stepped down the line, and not being satis¬ 
 fied with the positions of some of the men, took them 
 severally by the sleeves of their coats, dragged them out 
 of the column of files, towed them to some other point, 
 and squeezed them in. Finally, having the men placed 
 in accordance with his ideas, the first sergeant gave the 
 command, “ Left face ; support arms. Attention to roll- 
 call.” And the first name called was that of Captain 
 
 -, next Lieutenant Brown, then Lieutenant Jones, and 
 
 each of these commissioned officers obediently and 
 promptly answered “ here” at the beck of the first ser¬ 
 geant. 
 
 When the captain was requested to give his authority 
 afterwards for this somewhat unusual method, he replied 
 that they had always done it, and that nobody had ever 
 found fault with it, and it was considered the proper 
 thing. 
 
 After the inspection, which went off without any fur¬ 
 ther remarks on the part of the inspecting officer, who 
 preferred to see how things would go without any inter¬ 
 ference, the captain gave the command, “ Rest;” and Mr. 
 X. proceeded to jot down in his note-book the number 
 of men not properly shaved, boots not blacked, dirty or 
 torn gloves, coats not buttoned, fancy neck-ties, jeweled 
 scarf-pins, and other unorthodox points which had at¬ 
 tracted his attention. 
 
 A reporter stepped up and blandly inquired what he 
 thought of the boys, and the inspector informed the 
 reporter that he could tell more about it when he got 
 through with them. 
 
 During the inspection several men, chewing tobacco, 
 
 were expectorating freely over the floor, and exchanging 
 
 12* 
 
1 38 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 remarks with their comrades in the line as to the ap¬ 
 pearance of certain of the spectators and the somewhat 
 unusual movements of the new colonel. 
 
 The captain was then directed to put his company 
 through the manual of arms, part of which was very 
 prettily done. The firings were unique, especially the 
 loadings. Firing by company was certainly a simul¬ 
 taneous performance. Then the captain “ ordered arms,” 
 and gave his men another rest. 
 
 “ You have only given the firing by company, captain,” 
 said the inspector. “ Let me see them fire by file.” 
 
 “ Well, colonel, that’s something we’ve never prac¬ 
 ticed,” said the captain. “ There’s nothing soldierly in 
 that; there’s no snap or unanimity in it, and it only 
 demoralizes the boys to give them things that they don’t 
 do exactly together.” 
 
 “ Never mind, captain; give the commands for firing 
 by file, and let’s see what they will do.” 
 
 But the captain didn’t know how to give a command 
 for firing by file, neither could he give the commands for 
 the oblique firings, nor for firing kneeling, and, fortunately 
 for him, firing lying down was not demanded. 
 
 The movements of the company in columns of fours 
 and platoons were next required, and here it was found 
 that the captain, though possessing a fine and ringing 
 voice, was utterly independent of the tactics as to his 
 commands. They were a mixture of Scott, Casey, and 
 Knight Templar or broom-brigade tactics, Mr. X. couldn’t 
 tell which, and finally he stopped the captain and told 
 him that that was very pretty so far as it went, but that 
 ■he would like to see some movements that would test the 
 knowledge of the company. 
 
MILITIA INSPECTIONS. 
 
 139 
 
 So long as the company was permitted to “ gang its 
 ain gait” and put up an exhibition or “ go-as-you-please” 
 drill, the movements were certainly so smoothly done that 
 the array of spectators applauded vigorously, and Captain 
 - looked flushed with success despite the short¬ 
 comings in the firings. Presently the company executed 
 on right into line from column of fours in very pretty 
 style. Each set as it halted making a soul-stirring stamp 
 that reminded Mr. X. of the hussar “ orderly” who de¬ 
 livered all the messages in “ La Grande Duchesse de 
 Gerolstein.” Then, with a simultaneous bang, arms were 
 brought to the order. The room shook with applause, 
 and the captain, mopping the perspiration from his 
 brow, triumphantly accosted the inspector with, “ How’s 
 that ?” 
 
 Mr. X. thought it was all very pretty, but ventured to 
 inquire where the stamp was found in the pages of Upton. 
 The captain did not know, but considered it an improve¬ 
 ment on the tactics. “You don’t object to our doing 
 anything better than the book, do you ?” he asked. 
 
 “ No,” said Mr. X. “ But unluckily the President seems 
 to have a prejudice against it, and the Secretary of War— 
 two of them, in fact—prohibits any exercise or evolution 
 not embraced in the tactics.” 
 
 “ Well,” answered the captain, “ we haven’t introduced 
 any ‘ exercise or evolution’ in that stamp. It’s pretty, and 
 it pleases the boys and catches the crowd, like the twelve 
 counts in load. It makes ’em take more pains with their 
 drill.” 
 
 “ All the same,” responded Mr. X., “ it should not be 
 done, simply because it isn’t in the tactics.” 
 
 “ Well—but look here, colonel,” responds the crack 
 
140 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 drill-master of Pecatonica County. “ I don’t question 
 your authority in the least, and that stamp shall be 
 stopped, but, if you are going to prohibit our doing any¬ 
 thing on drill that is not affirmatively prescribed in the 
 tactics, how the mischief am I to get the men’s heads up 
 again after rest on arms? Paragraph 91 don’t provide 
 for it, and if we carry out that iron-clad rule we’d have 
 the whole company hanging their heads like so many 
 naughty boys, after they had come to the carry. How 
 can I get my lieutenants in front of their platoons when 
 I’m moving in double time, company front, and want to 
 break-” 
 
 The inspector fairly chuckles : “ Captain-, I’m de 
 
 lighted to see you are so close a student of the tactics. 
 Don’t ask me to supply their shortcomings, but stick as 
 close to the text as you can without being guilty of 
 manifest absurdities. Now, by the way, I notice that all 
 your movements have been by the right flank. It has 
 been fours right, right by platoons, on right into line, 
 right forward, fours right, etc. Now let me see some 
 movements the other way.” 
 
 “ Well, now, colonel, we never do that,” said the 
 captain, with a laugh. “You see it kind o’ breaks the 
 boys all up. You can ‘get there’just as quick by the 
 right flank, and then they always know just what to 
 expect, and do it in handsome style.” 
 
 “ Well, can you ‘get there’just as quick? Suppose 
 I tell you to place your company ten yards to the left 
 and rear of its present position, and facing in the same 
 direction, how would you do it in the quickest way ?” 
 
 “ Face it to the left. Then by the left flank, march, 
 halt, and about face,” answered the captain, triumphantly. 
 
MILITIA INSPECTIONS. 
 
 141 
 
 “ Well, that would certainly be one way of doing it; 
 but I meant that you should utilize the sets of fours. 
 The tactics do not contemplate marching any distance 
 in a column of files. Men are almost sure to lose 
 distance.” 
 
 “Mine don’t! They can march a mile lock-stepped 
 like so many convicts. Here ! I’ll show you.” And the 
 captain whipped out his sword and was about to call his 
 company to attention, but the inspector told him ocular 
 demonstration would be unnecessary on that point. 
 
 “Just execute these movements, captain;” and Mr. X. 
 jotted down on a card, “ Fours left; then left front into 
 line. Fours right about; then left forward, fours left. 
 On left into line. Left by platoons ; then form company 
 to the front.” 
 
 The captain shook his head as he looked at the card. 
 “ I’ll try it, if you say so,” he said; “ but the boys will 
 think it’s mighty queer.” 
 
 Evidently they did, for in two minutes the Rifles were 
 tangled up in a hard knot and confusion was worse con¬ 
 founded. A little later, when the company was straight¬ 
 ened out and marching gallantly in column of fours 
 “ right in front,” the inexorable inspector told the captain 
 to form line to the right front. Obediently that officer 
 shouted, “ Right front into line !” but, true to their years 
 of practice, the men obliqued to the left and came up on 
 the wrong flank. 
 
 “ Try it again, sir,” was the order; and this time, 
 though with much hesitation and some disorder, the line 
 was formed. 
 
 Up comes a prominent citizen, an old soldier, a gallant 
 war veteran who proudly wears his G.A.R. badge, and is 
 
142 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 a local authority on all matters military. He has been 
 loudly condemning the captain’s astonishing “ break” to 
 a knot of crestfallen friends of that officer, and the re¬ 
 porter of the local paper is jotting down his words. A 
 young gentleman in the neat uniform of the State Uni¬ 
 versity battalion ventures to put in a word in the captain’s 
 defense. “ It is perfectly right according to tactics,” he 
 says, “ to form line to front either by right or left oblique.” 
 
 “Bah! I never heard of such a thing! Any old 
 soldier will tell you that when the right is in front you 
 must come up on the left, and when left is in front you 
 come up on the right. Here! I’ll prove it by the 
 colonel,” he says ; and a rest having been ordered in the 
 mean time, the old major comes up to prove his point, 
 and the crowd follows. 
 
 “ I’ve just been telling these gentlemen the captain 
 made a big mistake in several of those orders. It was 
 his fault that there was confusion. The company tried 
 to do it right.” 
 
 “ No, major; the captain’s orders were according to the 
 present tactics-” 
 
 “But I learned my drill over twenty-five years ago. I 
 was in the regular army before I went in the volunteers, 
 and I know it’s wrong.” 
 
 Mr. X. has no time to explain that he, too, learned the 
 drill twenty-five years ago, and was in the regular army. 
 The veteran shouts his views for the benefit of his fellow- 
 citizens and then bursts indignantly through the crowd 
 and makes his way out of the building. It is his con¬ 
 viction, and doubtless that of the populace, that the in¬ 
 spector is an ignoramus who knows nothing whatever of 
 the tactics. Indeed, the reporter is all prepared to “ show 
 
MILITIA INSPECTIONS. 
 
 M3 
 
 him up” in the local paper, but, luckily for the reputation 
 of that unfortunate officer, the editor himself is a looker- 
 on, and it occurs to him to make some inquiries and to 
 “ search the scriptures military.” 
 
 There is no parade to the music of Zimmerman’s band, 
 no speech-making at Schlaeger’s, no cheering the in¬ 
 spector. He leaves town to go to the next station, leaving 
 behind him a community impressed with the idea that he 
 has put their pet company in a very wrong light, and 
 knows nothing whatever of his business. 
 
 But next year the Rifles drill just as well by the left 
 as by the right flank. The men have found out there are 
 two ends to the company and that there is a heap more 
 to the tactics than was supposed. The inspector is re¬ 
 ceived without enthusiasm, of course, for the populace 
 maintains that he has just ruined the drill of that com¬ 
 pany. u They used to come to every motion of the load 
 exactly together. They could fix and unfix bayonets 
 just click, click, click—like that. It was ten times better 
 then than it is now, and they would stand no chance 
 whatever in a competitive drill.” 
 
 Distinctly, then, in standing up for the abolition of all 
 the old militia ways, Mr. X. was undergoing the trials of 
 the reformer as well as one of those of the staff-officer. 
 Pretty much every company had some especial “ fad” 
 which it had long cherished and was bound to protect at 
 all hazards. Most of them had a beautiful flag,—pre¬ 
 sented by the ladies, or voted at a fair, or won at a com¬ 
 petitive drill,—and they wanted to parade this flag at 
 inspection, color-guard and all, and could not cheerfully 
 acquiesce in the ruling that only on battalion formation 
 could colors be allowed, and then only one. Another 
 
144 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 company turned out in white cravats, the bows tied out¬ 
 side the dress-coat, and swore they had “ regular army 
 authority for it.” O ye regulars! How was it, what 
 hapless inspiration possessed ye, that no less than eight 
 officers of a gallant regiment should have had their 
 cabinet-sized photos taken—each man in full uniform— 
 with a white cravat tied outside the coat ? Mr. X. recog¬ 
 nized the pictures, but refused to recognize the authority. 
 The officers of another company appeared in mounted 
 officers’ helmet cords, and said the by-laws of the com¬ 
 pany authorized it; others wore buff gauntlets on foot 
 duty. A favorite manoeuvre of some organizations was 
 to open files in column of fours and then at the command 
 “ Knapsack rest!” carry the rifle horizontally at the back 
 of the neck, both hands holding it in that position. Of 
 course there were a dozen accurately and admirably 
 drilled companies, but it was uphill work to try and 
 eradicate all these and a thousand other “ milish” pecu¬ 
 liarities from the others. The adjutant-general was 
 backing the inspector just as far as he could, however, 
 and knew far better than did Mr. X. the difficulties in the 
 way. Whenever the latter had occasion to “ score” an 
 organization pretty heavily, its friends, especially if it 
 happened to be commanded by German officers, would 
 immediately rush to the governor and complain and even 
 threaten. “ The boys won’t stand it,” they said, and it 
 was intimated pretty plainly that if the staff-officer was 
 allowed to find fault with the “ Germanias” or the “ Bis¬ 
 marck Guards” or the “ Prinz Karl Rifles” the old 
 governor need look for no “ votes” from their districts 
 if he came up for re-election, and that astute feeler of the 
 public pulse was not a little discomposed. 
 
MILITIA INSPECTIONS. 
 
 145 
 
 Once, after an exhibition of almost total ignorance of 
 the tactics on part of the captain and lieutenants of one 
 of these commands, the inspector was cautioned by a 
 civil official to “ be very careful what he said about that 
 
 company. They are all but three of them -and the 
 
 official gave the name of the political party then in power. 
 Mr. X. said he could not see what that had to do with 
 the question of their efficiency or non-efficiency as State 
 troops, and the gentleman replied that while it should 
 have nothing to do with the question, it did have a great 
 deal. 
 
 Another officer, found to be grievously ignorant of the 
 tactics, excused himself, because his men “ were working¬ 
 men and couldn’t get around.” Mr. X. pointed out that 
 the best-instructed company in the district, if not in the 
 State, was made up entirely of workingmen, and that in 
 any event that was no excuse for the captain’s ignorance 
 of his own dutiesbut the reply was too much for the 
 inspector. 
 
 “ Well, you see it’s this way, colonel: I’m so worried 
 all the time lest they should go wrong that I can’t think 
 of my own commands.” 
 
 Then what a time we had when getting rid of the tail 
 coat! What a “ kick” there was when first it was an¬ 
 nounced that new companies must adopt the uniform of 
 the regular service and nothing else, and old companies 
 would be required to provide themselves therewith as 
 soon as their original dress should be worn out! Yet 
 when those neat, soldierly, dark-blue tunics with the 
 white pipings and facings appeared on guard and parade 
 in camp, the prejudice disappeared. Three and four 
 
 years ago the cry was that “ they were trying to make us 
 g k 13 
 
146 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 like regulars.” Two years ago they themselves were 
 beginning to try to look like regulars, and could not fast 
 enough learn to carry themselves as befitted their new 
 dress. And finally, last year, in his report to the Secre¬ 
 tary of War, based on the observations of a most ac¬ 
 complished regular sent to observe the work of each 
 regiment in camp, the adjutant-general of the army was 
 able to incorporate these words: “ I believe that the 
 Wisconsin National Guard will compare favorably with 
 any State troops in the country. The personnel of the 
 troops is excellent. The officers composing the staff of 
 
 the governor-” But spare our blushes. “ Most of 
 
 the regimental field-officers also saw service in our late 
 war. The company officers are mostly young men,— 
 zealous, active, and efficient.” 
 
 Last year when General Sherman rode along the line 
 of neatly-clad infantry, cavalry, and artillery, all in dark- 
 blue service dress, with only white helmets and white 
 gloves to break the sombre effect of the utter lack of 
 plume or tinsel, and saw among their officers men who 
 had followed him to Atlanta and the sea, he said they 
 looked for all the world “ like business,” and that has 
 been our end and aim for years past. 
 
MILITIA CAMPS OF INSTRUCTION. 
 
 147 
 
 * 
 
 MILITIA CAMPS OF INSTRUCTION. 
 
 We turn now from the inspections required of each 
 individual company by the State laws, and come to their 
 performance under canvas when assembled by battalion. 
 It was a long time before we could extract from our 
 legislators a sum for the purchase of sufficient tentage 
 for the encampment of a ten-company regiment; and 
 that it was finally obtained for the purposes of the Na¬ 
 tional Guard was an achievement made possible only, it 
 would seem, by the agreement that the tents should at 
 all other times be at the service of the omnipotent Grand 
 Army of the Republic. The reasons for this assertion 
 will appear later on. Camp equipage at last having been 
 obtained,—wall tents of excellent size and quality for 
 line officers and men, hospital tents for the field and staff, 
 —the next thing was to decide the matter of camp¬ 
 grounds. By this time the infantry had been organized 
 into three ten-company regiments and one battalion, the 
 regimental districts being mapped out with g, view to 
 rapid mobilization,—the First Regiment along the south¬ 
 ern border of the State, the Second along the eastern 
 upper half, the Third the western upper half, and the 
 Fourth, a four-company battalion, being stationed in the 
 metropolis. 
 
 It was decided by the powers that were that, for the 
 time being, regiments should encamp within their dis¬ 
 tricts and on such tracts as could be found in the neigh- 
 
148 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 borhood of the large towns or cities. The first year’s 
 encampments were largely experimental, for Mr X.’s 
 share in them was confined to the practical instruction 
 of the cavalry troop, an unusually good one. But the 
 camps resulted in the retirement of one or two war vet¬ 
 erans who, it was only too evident, looked upon the 
 whole matter as a huge joke. The year following, at 
 the invitation of the adjutant-general, Mr. X. accom¬ 
 panied him on his rounds of the different camps for the 
 purpose of conveying such practical instruction as was 
 necessary, and before he had been at it an hour, the dis¬ 
 covery was made that a big job had been loaded on his 
 shoulders. Officers and non-commissioned officers, as 
 a rule, wanted to know how things should be done, and 
 were quite willing to learn, provided little time for prac¬ 
 tice was necessary. There were some, to be sure, who 
 came to camp perfect gluttons for work and instruction, 
 —could not get enough of it. Others, and rather a large 
 number, looked upon the thing in the light of a social 
 picnic, and wanted to spend hours in showing their 
 friends about the camp, or in visiting them at their homes 
 in town. And herein was encountered the first lesson. 
 
 The regimental officers were allowed to select the 
 place of encampment, as has been said, from among the 
 towns and cities of their own district, and the choice 
 went, as a rule, to the “ highest bidder.” The State pro¬ 
 vided tents; but fuel, straw, board-floors, bedding, po¬ 
 licing camps, expenses of band, cooks, kitchens, etc., 
 had all to be borne by the regiment. It was represented 
 to the towns-people that the presence of the regiment in 
 camp would draw a big crowd from the surrounding 
 country, and thereby boom the local markets. The 
 
r 
 
 MILITIA CAMPS OF INSTRUCTION. 149 
 
 bankers, brewers, “ butchers, bakers, and candlestick- 
 makers” were therefore invited to contribute to an en¬ 
 campment fund, as a return for which the regiment agreed 
 to make a street parade on at least one day, and have 
 attractive military exercises going on in the camp at all 
 times. Whatever Mr. X. may have thought of this way 
 of conducting military operations, he had to make the 
 best of it, and work as well as he could with the tools in 
 hand. The first lesson was somewhat memorable. The 
 Third, a fine, large regiment, was in camp; he had wit¬ 
 nessed the review and dress-parade, and then, at officers’ 
 school, was called upon to point out the errors. The 
 general effect had been very good, but individual errors 
 had been many. 
 
 Seated in a semicircle around the colonel’s tent were 
 now the officers of the regiment. Within the marquee 
 was the governor with a dozen prominent personages, 
 and fifteen to twenty deep around the officers was a dense 
 crowd of towns-people, rustics, and the rank and file of 
 the regiment, all good-naturedly and cheerily interested 
 in the coming proceedings. The adjutant-general briefly 
 explained what he had called upon Mr. X. to do, and 
 Mr. X., trying not to look aghast, inquired if it was ex¬ 
 pected that he should proceed to make his criticism of 
 the officers in the face of that great crowd, and was told 
 that there did not seem to be any way of getting rid of 
 them. He next asked the colonel commanding if school 
 couldn’t adjourn to the space in rear of his tent, and four 
 or five sentries be sent to keep it clear. “ Certainly it 
 can be, if you like; but the crowd will come too, if that 
 is what you are thinking about. Go right ahead, colonel; 
 sail right into them, right hereand, there being no 
 
 13* 
 
150 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 help for it, Mr. X. sailed in accordingly. The first thing 
 was to point out to the officers that most of them had 
 their swords on “ wrong side before” at this moment, 
 the guard being to the rear instead of to the front, as it 
 should be with the three-ringed scabbard. Next, that 
 very few of them looked towards the reviewing officer 
 in passing; then, that few had executed the first motion 
 of the “ present” at the command, and that most of them 
 had saluted with the hand in tierce instead of quarte, as 
 prescribed by the tactics when they lowered their blade. 
 “ Take my sword and show them how it should be done,” 
 requested the adjutant-general; and Mr. X. illustrated. 
 
 Now, many readers have doubtless been to see the 
 great cycloramas of Gettysburg, Mission Ridge, Atlanta, 
 Shiloh, Bull Run, etc., and have listened to the lecturer 
 when he made his explanation of the paintings. Their 
 luck has been better than that of Mr. X. if they have not 
 at least once or twice been compelled to hear sarcastic 
 interruptions on the part of some grizzled veteran with 
 watery eyes, weather-beaten nose, a Grand Army of the 
 Republic badge on his manly breast, and an expression 
 of profound contempt on his countenance. On no less 
 than three occasions has Mr. X. known the lecturer to be 
 compelled to cease his flow of eloquence and request 
 silence on the part of the veteran who was interrupting 
 him with remarks to the effect that “ It was the Two 
 Hundred and Twentieth Illinois (or the Five Hundred 
 and Eleventh Pennsylvania) that took that battery; it 
 wasn’t the Two Hundred and Fiftieth New York at all. 
 I know it; I was there; I was the first man in that bat¬ 
 tery,” etc. You have all heard the old saying of the 
 white horse and the red-headed girl. Mr. X. never goes 
 
MILITIA CAMPS OF INSTRUCTION. 1 5 I 
 
 to one of those lectures now without looking around for 
 the interrupter as soon as the lecturer begins. And so 
 with his own first practical lecture to the officers of the 
 Third Regiment. No sooner had he shown the position 
 of the sword in the salute than up spoke a grizzled vet¬ 
 eran in the crowd, “ That ain’t the way we done it, by 
 thunder!” The crowd tittered, and the governor’s be¬ 
 nevolent features relaxed into a broad smile (out West, 
 where the old-soldier element is far stronger in propor¬ 
 tion to population than in the East, it is always the safe 
 thing for the politician to laugh with the Grand Army of 
 the Republic-man). The colonel commanding looked 
 vexed, and undoubtedly he was thinking that this was 
 hardly the proper place in which to conduct an officers’ 
 school, but, what was to be done ? He arose and said, 
 “ The crowd will please keep order; Colonel X. is in¬ 
 structing these gentlemen in the proper handling of their 
 swords, and must not be interrupted.” 
 
 “ Let him do it right, then,” says a veteran in the 
 throng; “you can’t teach me nothin’, by thunder! I am 
 a man of war, I am. I have fought in sixteen pitched 
 battles. I ain’t any damn play-soldier, either,” etc. 
 
 The veteran unquestionably holds the fort. It’s the 
 first audience, perhaps, he has had since the day he was 
 mustered out, and he does not propose to lose the occa¬ 
 sion. The crowd is with him ; so, evidently, is the com- 
 mander-in-chief. It’s no use explaining to the three sur¬ 
 rounding counties that the tactics require the backs of 
 the hands to be down instead of up in the salute with 
 the sword ; if the tactics say so they are all wrong. The 
 veteran of sixteen pitched battles “ knows a damn sight 
 better,” as he says, and as he does not hesitate to say. 
 
152 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 We got through with the officers’ school that morning in 
 rather a fragmentary way, and it was the same thing in 
 teaching practically their various duties in the afternoon, 
 or when sounding the different calls for the drummers. 
 The crowd and the Grand Army of the Republic-man 
 swarmed over the camp and took full possession. There 
 was no use in “ kicking against the pricks.” Of course 
 Mr. X. could and did suggest to the colonel commanding 
 that the populace ought not to be allowed to roam all over 
 camp at all hours of the day, and that enlisted men should 
 be kept aloof from the officers’ schools, but the people 
 didn’t think so, and that settled it for the time being. 
 
 Before camp was over we had things in better shape. 
 There were hours when the officers could be assembled 
 in the rear of the colonel’s tent and drilled practically in 
 all manner of points in which they needed instruction. 
 But during the first two or three years of our State en¬ 
 campments the colonels could not be brought to issue 
 and enforce the orders by which the camp and the 
 parade-grounds should be kept free from incursions on 
 the part of the populace. Of course the Grand Army of 
 the Republic-man was there in force on all occasions, 
 giving the crowd the benefit of his views as to the absurd¬ 
 ity of trying to make soldiers nowadays anyhow. “ Me 
 and a half a dozen of the old boys could clean out this 
 whole outfit,” would be his frequent assertion. Clamor¬ 
 ing aloud, too, to the colonel to show them how to “ form 
 square” on battalion drill, and when civilly informed by 
 that officer that no such movement was known to modern 
 tactics, loudly proclaiming his contempt for a regiment 
 that didn’t know how to form square. “ Give me your 
 sword, and I’ll show ’em how.” 
 
MILITIA CAMPS OF INSTRUCTION. 
 
 153 
 
 Mr. X. used to ride around and watch all this, and 
 laugh until his sides were sore, but powerless, of course, 
 except by advice, to bring about a better state of things. 
 A year later, when vested with some authority in the 
 premises, he caused cr;ders to be issued that no “ out¬ 
 siders” should be allowed in the body of camp except 
 between parade and tattoo, and that enlisted men should 
 not appear in rear of their company officers’ tents except 
 when summoned thither on duty. In this way we had 
 some order in camp, and a certain degree of privacy at 
 the officers’ schools, but—at what a cost! One day a 
 pompous old Teuton drove his buggy straight up to the 
 sentry’s post and was going on into camp, when the 
 guard seized and held his horse. “County judge,” he 
 shouted, but to no avail. The officer of the guard civilly 
 told him that even officers of the regiment could not 
 drive in there; they must go around to a designated 
 point in rear of the field-officer’s tent, and offered to 
 escort him thither. But the old man was furious; it 
 seems that he was rarely in his sober senses, and no ex¬ 
 planation availed. He owned a newspaper, and to the 
 office thereof he drove in hot haste; and the very next 
 issue of that paper was one continuous lampooning of the 
 colonel commanding and of Mr. X. Of course, there 
 were many in the populace who sympathized with him. 
 Nine-tenths of the men, women, and children saw no 
 reason at all why they should not be strolling around the 
 tents at all hours of the day, or at night either, for that 
 matter; nor was it solely among the “ middle and lower 
 classes” that this idea prevailed. Will Mr. X. ever for¬ 
 get one lovely summer morning, when the cavalry were 
 in camp on the shore of our most picturesque Jake. The 
 
154 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 trumpet had just sounded the first call for reveille. He 
 wanted to see in what shape the men fell in for roll-call, 
 and Mr. X. tumbled out of his blankets, and, fortunately, 
 into boots and breeches before stepping into the front 
 portion of his abode, which was a large double wall-tent 
 overlooking the company’s street. Here, to his dismay, 
 were seated two prominent society ladies, under the 
 escort of the pastor of their church. “Ah, Mr. X.,’’ said 
 the imperturbable ecclesiastic, “ good-morning; these 
 ladies have seen so much of the pomp and circumstance 
 of glorious war that they were eager to have an idea of a 
 little of the stern reality, and I bantered them into an 
 early visit.” Stern reality, indeed! There were the 
 troopers tumbling out of their blankets in all manner of 
 costumes except full dress. Mr. X. himself could only 
 dodge back into his own sanctum for another garment 
 or two, all the while inwardly expressing his views as to 
 the lack of common sense in the church militant. He 
 never could say what he thought of the gentleman him¬ 
 self,—he who piloted that party in search of the stern 
 realities of camp life,—but what didn’t he say to the sen¬ 
 try who had let them enter before morning gun-fire? 
 Some of the oddest “ breaks” made by our officers, by 
 the way, must be laid at the door of the chaplain. One 
 most excellent divine having announced his intentions of 
 attending camp with the regiment, was assigned to a 
 tent with the field and staff. Fancy the consternation of 
 the colonel and the sensations of Mr. X. when the rev¬ 
 erend gentleman marched in with his wife and three 
 daughters, and gravely proceeded to furnish the tent for 
 their occupation. Mr. X. had no authority here; the 
 colonel expressed to every one of the officers--but the 
 
 ) 
 
MILITIA CAMPS OF INSTRUCTION. 
 
 155 
 
 chaplain—his astonishment at the proceeding, yet had 
 not the grit to point out the impropriety thereof to the 
 gentleman himself. The chaplain’s family slept in camp 
 the entire week, and doubtless learned a great deal about 
 the art of war which they had never dreamed of previ¬ 
 ously. Yet the old gentleman was not so much ta 
 blame. He had heard what was the actual case, that in 
 some of the regiments the colonels had been accom¬ 
 panied by their wives and family, and doubtless held that 
 the presence of the fair sex would have a restraining in¬ 
 fluence on the language of the camp, as indeed it would, 
 could everybody but remember at all times that the 
 ladies were right there within hearing. But unluckily 
 most men were too busy and had too many other things 
 to think of to keep that perpetually in mind. How odd 
 it seemed to Mr. X. to note the furnishing of the field- 
 officers’ tents in those days,—big bedsteads, bureaus, 
 mirrors, carpets, centre-tables, and “ what-nots.” But it 
 had to be, so said the officers, so long as we camp 
 around the towns and cities, and so it resulted that, at 
 one of the State conventions five or six years ago, Mr. 
 X. urged the purchase of a tract of land in the centre of 
 the State, at least ten miles from any town, and at last, 
 and only a year ago, we got it.* But before that time 
 came our camps had steadily become more soldierly and 
 our sentries more like the real article. Guard duty is, 
 after all, the hardest thing to teach new troops, and an 
 immense amount of labor and patience is required. Mr. 
 X. thought we had some remarkably well-informed 
 officers by the time the third summer came, and you can 
 
 * In 1888. 
 
156 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 fancy his amazement when, one morning, a sudden 
 shower came pouring down ; the corporal of the guard 
 started out with a rush, and the next thing anybody 
 knew, he had whisked off the entire relief, every blessed 
 sentry on post, and came running into the guard-tents 
 with them at double-quick. Mr. X. went down to those 
 guard-tents in seven-league boots, and the officer of the 
 day received him with a bland smile, and was evidently 
 pleased with the rapidity with which the corporal had 
 performed the feat. He frankly confessed that he had 
 ordered the relief taken off for the fear of spoiling their 
 uniforms, and was rather astonished at the order by 
 which the relief was immediately reposted, and in double 
 time too. 
 
 At another camp, and in another regiment, the officer 
 of the day was missing. The colonel was asked if he 
 had given him permission to leave camp. No. Never¬ 
 theless the guards were positive that the officer had 
 gone “ over to the park,” indicating a pleasure resort 
 some little distance away, and there, to be sure, he was 
 found, having a pleasant time with some civilian friends, 
 and professing total ignorance of any military impro¬ 
 priety in the performance. 
 
 Once in a while we had some experiences that were 
 purely laughable and that did us all good. Perhaps the 
 best of these was one that occurred at the camp of the 
 Third Regiment, at Chippewa Falls, where we had a fine 
 ground, excellent arrangements, and most agreeable 
 neighbors in the people of this thriving little city. Un¬ 
 luckily it stormed furiously most of the week, and all of 
 the roads and fields were speedily turned into quagmires. 
 Everything had been arranged for a ball, which was to 
 
MILITIA CAMPS OF INSTRUCTION. 
 
 157 
 
 occur on the last evening of our stay; and as the time 
 drew nigh, the mayor and his committee were fluttering 
 about enveloped in water-proofs and a not unnatural 
 state of excitement. It had been settled that six car¬ 
 riages, all that could be obtained for so perilous a service 
 as the frequent transit from camp to town over such fear¬ 
 ful roads, were to leave camp at 8 p.m. with the mayor, 
 the committee, and such officers as were ready, and 
 then be sent back for another load. It was estimated 
 that in three trips all the officers in camp, including the 
 governor’s staff, could be thus transported to the hall 
 where the ball was to take place. About sixteen “young¬ 
 sters” went off with the first round. Then the mayor 
 and committee waited for the array of generals and 
 colonels expected with the next. Nine o’clock came; 
 nine thirty; the ball was waiting, but not another officer 
 appeared, and “ His Honor” was rabid with excitement. 
 None of the carriages had returned to the hall; yet an 
 inquiry developed the fact that big loads had been 
 brought in town, and deposited at a neighboring hotel. 
 The mayor darted around there through the pitiless 
 storm, but not an officer was to be found. The billiard- 
 room and the parlors were packed with jovial non-com¬ 
 missioned officers and privates on pass apparently, but 
 not a shoulder-strap was visible. At last, at ten o’clock, 
 some drenched jehus drove up to the hall with panting 
 and bedraggled steeds, and a number of gold-laced offi¬ 
 cials stepped solemnly forth from the dripping carriages. 
 
 “ What on earth has kept you all this time ?” de¬ 
 manded the mayor. 
 
 “ I am sure I cannot tell,” said one of the generals. 
 “ We waited nearly two hours for carriages.” 
 
 14 
 
i 5 8 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 “ Great Caesar’s ghost! driver, didn’t I tell you to go 
 right back to camp and load up those officers, until you 
 had them all here ?” 
 
 “ Certainly you did, Mr. Mayor, I have been hauling 
 colonels and majors through the mud until this town 
 must be just busting with them. You said I could do it 
 all in three trips. Damn me, if I ain’t made a dozen. 
 My poor horses are all tuckered out.” 
 
 And then at last it all leaked out. The night was 
 dark as pitch. The moment the drivers got back to 
 camp, and before they could get within fifty yards of the 
 head-quarters tents, they were stopped by a host of 
 gentlemen with the capes of their overcoats drawn up 
 over their heads, and (in the Badger State officers and 
 men of the line wore overcoats of the same pattern and 
 finish) a martial voice hailed them with “ Here we are, 
 driver; stop just where you are; jump in, major; tumble 
 in, colonel; tumble in-” 
 
 “ Oh! after you, general; I beg- After you.” 
 
 “ Not at all, sir; not at all; it is too wet to fool about 
 trifles; jump in; jump in. Load up those other car¬ 
 riages now, fast as you can. Now to the hotel with this 
 crowd as quick as you can get there.” 
 
 And in this way the jolly sergeants, corporals, and 
 rank and file of the gallant Third had loaded up carriage 
 after carriage as it arrived in camp, while their superiors 
 waited, with such patience as they possessed, among the 
 dismal, dripping, tents of officers’ row. 
 
 The joke might have gone on until the camp was 
 empty of enlisted men had it not become too big to be 
 kept; and finally the officer of the guard discovered 
 that he had been passing out about one hundred of 
 
MILITIA CAMPS OF INSTRUCTION. 159 
 
 the rank and file for carriage-loads of commissioned 
 officers. 
 
 As there was only tentage enough for one regiment, it 
 followed that our canvas had to be shipped from point to 
 point about the State, and in this way some loss was 
 bound to occur. All marking, cutting, or defacing of 
 the canvas in any way was of course strictly forbidden, 
 and both at the beginning and end of each regimental 
 camp it was Mr. X.’s custom to make the rounds to 
 inspect tents for the purpose of fixing responsibility in 
 case of damage. At first, of course, in the exuberance 
 of their spirits, “ the boys,” as they preferred to call 
 themselves, would decorate by means of candle-smoke, 
 or crayons, their camp abode with certain inscriptions, 
 such as “ Saints’ Rest,” “ Drummers’ Delight,” “ The 
 Wicked Four,” etc.; but one summer seemed to suffice 
 to teach them better. Two years afterwards, just before 
 striking tents at the tap of the drum, as had been taught 
 the men, Mr. X., in company with the colonel and his 
 quartermaster, inspected every tent in camp, and found 
 them all clean, in good condition, with the exception of 
 some old marks which were well known and recognized. 
 What was his surprise, therefore, two weeks afterwards, 
 when making the rounds the first day of the camp of 
 another regiment, to find that a number of the tents had 
 been defaced in a very flagrant way, and a number of in¬ 
 scriptions, far from elegant, appeared all over the canvas. 
 There was only one way of explaining it: When not in 
 use by the National Guard the tents were shipped from 
 one part of the State to another, in order to let the old 
 “ Grand Army” boys have their camp-fires, reunions, and 
 post camps,—and the manner in which they were deco- 
 
i6o 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 rated by the veterans was a sight to see. Mr. X. made 
 this circumstance rather a prominent feature in his report 
 of the summer encampments of that year, but that was 
 one portion of his report which never found its way in 
 print. This is why he said earlier in this article that it 
 seemed only on condition the camp equipage should be 
 at the service of the Grand Army of the Republic that 
 it was possible to secure an appropriation for its purchase 
 by the State. Goodness knows they were welcome to 
 it fifty times over, if they would only return it in proper 
 shape. 
 
SHAM BATTLES. 
 
 j6i 
 
 SHAM BATTLES. 
 
 How many readers have had the experience, good or 
 ill, of taking part in furious combat under what Dickens 
 described as a “ galling fire of blank cartridges,” and 
 helping some State fair, “ grand military pageant,” or 
 similar catchpenny enterprise, to stagger to its legs, res¬ 
 cued from the “ snowing under” it doubtless deserved by 
 the promise of “ the whole to conclude with a realistic 
 and magnificent sham battle by the entire assembled 
 force,—regulars, volunteers, and national guard ?” 
 
 Time was when the regular, from the safe distance of 
 the frontier, could afford to laugh at these affairs and 
 wonder what people could see in them. They were no 
 more like the real thing than brevet to actual rank; but 
 little by little as the centre of population shifted westward 
 with the Star of Empire, and Congressmen sprang from 
 the newly-organized districts and began to have influence 
 —big or little—in shaping the affairs of the nation, and 
 what had been frontier posts were overlapped by the 
 people, and the regular and the State troops began to eye 
 each other askance, there sprang into life a new money¬ 
 making scheme by which shrewd financiers saw means 
 of depleting the pockets of a whole community and 
 replenishing their own by advertising, in flaming posters 
 all over the Northwest, a vast aggregation of military 
 attractions; reviews, parades, camps of hundreds of the 
 
 finest organizations in the country; competitive drills of 
 l 14* 
 
TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 162 
 
 regiments, battalions, and companies; charges of cav¬ 
 alry; thunderous salvos of artillery, etc. Fine militia 
 companies were tempted to come by promise of big 
 money prizes, and certain battalions, batteries, or troops, 
 of regulars were ordered to go by a department that, 
 propeily enough, did not wish to “lose touch with the 
 people.” 
 
 Goodness knows the regulars, officers and men, were 
 glad enough to go, and do almost anything to make 
 themselves known to fellow-beings and fellow-citizens, 
 whose sole conception of the officers and men of the 
 United States army was derived from a casual reading 
 of the sneers of the Chicago papers and the squibs of 
 other journals no better informed than those of the once- 
 called “ Garden City,” but who thought it wit or wisdom 
 to follow their lead. And wherever the regulars went, 
 and whatever was to be done, they entered con amove 
 into the spirit of the thing, and won among the populace 
 hosts of friends, and from the projectors of the enterprise 
 a world of gratitude. “ We’d have been swamped utterly 
 if it hadn’t been for you fellows,” as Mr. X. heard the 
 
 business manager say to a group of old frontier comrades 
 
 % 
 
 time and again, and, indeed, the statement was not exag¬ 
 gerative. 
 
 But what comical times we had! What wonderful 
 skirmishes and battles were those we fought among th.i 
 crested bluffs of Dubuque, along the “ Cold Spring” 
 grounds, back of the Cream City, and, last of all, over 
 the barren flats behind that far-spreading, all-absorbing, 
 and fiercely-democratic metropolis of Chicago! In 
 some particulars the experiences were identical in each 
 place. In some places we encountered new and original 
 
SHAM BATTLES. 
 
 163 
 
 views on the part of the public as to the fine points of 
 modern war-waging. In one respect they were all 
 alike: the Grand Army man we had always with us, and 
 in his glory, too. In the “ grand-stand,” on the outskirts 
 of the crowd, and invariably the most conspicuous per¬ 
 sonage in his vicinity, the battle-scarred veteran or the 
 hospital “ beat,” as the case might be, was sure to have 
 a prominent position, and to be taking frequent occasion 
 to inform the crowd that “ me and a half-dozen of the 
 old boys, with our Springfields, could clean out a whole 
 regiment of these fellows, with their new-fangled guns.” 
 
 There was another point in which marked resemblance 
 was at once apparent. With enterprise genuinely Ameri¬ 
 can, no sooner was it announced that the sham battle 
 would take place on certain grounds than the populace 
 swarmed forth and took possession thereof, and before 
 the sham fight could come off, as per advertisement, a 
 genuine tussle was sometimes necessary before the lurid 
 spectacle could begin. 
 
 Perhaps the liveliest example of this sort of thing 
 occurred at the first encampment of the Wisconsin 
 troops in rear of the city of Milwaukee. There were 
 perhaps fifteen hundred infantry under canvas, a fine 
 troop of cavalry, some guns and gunners from the State 
 capital, and these were all provisionally brigaded to¬ 
 gether for the time being, and four battalions had been 
 organized from the foot-commands. There had been 
 daily parades, guard-mountings, occasional reviews, and 
 a big demonstration through the streets of the city, 
 headed by the governor and his staff on horseback. The 
 great field was known as the Cold Spring Course, and 
 its entire area was surrounded by a high board fence/ 
 
164 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 not so high but that ambitious boys could scale it; not 
 so impenetrable but that it could be burrowed under or 
 squeezed through in a thousand places. And after the 
 regular military work was done, a “ hippodrome’' enter¬ 
 prise had been resolved upon. A new armory was 
 needed for a crack organization ; the State couldn’t build 
 armories at all or allow money enough even to pay an 
 insurance policy on a poor one; but the soldier-boys 
 had got their heads together and determined on some 
 plans to raise money, and this was one of them. A 
 business manager had been found; blank cartridges by 
 the million had been provided ; huge posters had been 
 distributed all over Wisconsin, and fringed a surrounding 
 belt in the other States; prizes were offered for the best 
 drilled companies from anywhere ; “ regulars” were ob¬ 
 tained as judges and staff-officers; and, on the last great 
 day of the feast, a sham fight of colossal proportions 
 was to take place, all of which could be viewed for a 
 very moderate price of admission. The fame of the 
 thing, as has been intimated in a previous article, was 
 trumpeted to the far East, and Harper's Weekly's liveliest 
 wielder of chalk and crayon was dispatched to the scene 
 to gather illustrations. The weather had been gorgeous 
 and the crowds generous, so “ the management” looked 
 forward with comfort to the proceeds of “ battle-day,” 
 and probably were not much disappointed when they 
 gazed on the tumultuous sea of people swarming along 
 the race-track and gradually possessing themselves of 
 the entire enclosed space except the tented rectangle at 
 the far western end, where doubled sentries kept the 
 camps tolerably secure against being bodily drifted off. 
 
 “ Did you ever see such a crowd?” said the manager’s 
 
SHAM BATTLES. 
 
 165 
 
 junior partner, an hour before the time announced for 
 the battle to begin. “We must have taken in ten thou¬ 
 sand dollars already.” 
 
 “ We haven’t taken in ten hundred,” said a flushel 
 and excited messenger from the great gate, arriving at 
 the instant. “ This crowd has come in from a thou¬ 
 sand holes in our three miles of fence, and they keep 
 a-coming.” 
 
 It was then that the “ manager,” rueful and wrathful, 
 bestrode his gray steed and whipped his way through a 
 surging host of people, and presently appeared in front 
 of the canvas head-quarters of the commanding general. 
 
 “ My God, general! I’ve got to have about a thou¬ 
 sand sentries right off. The crowd is busting in that 
 big fence on all sides, and I’ll have a tremendous bill 
 to pay and no money to do it with. How quick can I 
 have ’em ?” 
 
 “ Well, Mr. Ferguson, you’ve got two regiments out 
 now. The sentries all around inside the race-track are 
 trying to keep that space clear for the sham fight, and 
 you have a battalion outside the fence to keep people 
 off the high ground to the south of us. Where are the 
 sentries to come from ?” 
 
 “ If we can’t get ’em any other way, I’ll have all those 
 on guard around the track. I’ve got to stop this ‘ hook¬ 
 ing in’ right off, anyhow, or we’ll have all Milwaukee on 
 this ground in half an hour, and nothing to show for it 
 but damages,” said the man of affairs, dolefully. 
 
 And so Mr. X., who was adjutant-general of the camp, 
 was bidden to mount his horse and order the immediate 
 changes required by the head of the combined civil and 
 military financial management, and, not relishing the job 
 
r 66 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 in the least, Mr. X. proceeded to carry out his orders. 
 In half an hour the fence was lined with sentries, who 
 speedily drove back every man or boy struggling over, 
 under, or through that barrier, but to do this required 
 nearly the entire force now under arms and awaiting the 
 signal to form for the coming battle. It also necessitated 
 the removal of all but about one hundred sentries from 
 along the race-track fence, whose duty it was to keep 
 the crowd from bulging through and occupying the field. 
 Meantime, the grand stand and spectators’ “ bleaching- 
 boards” were more leisurely filling, for extra halves and 
 quarters were demanded for accommodations thereon, 
 and the vast space intended for carriages was slowly 
 crowding with vehicles of every description. Mr. X. 
 didn’t like the idea of changing those sentries one bit, 
 but “ orders are orders,” and he had to carry them out. 
 
 And now, before going further, a glance-at the plan of 
 action and the ground itself may be needed. The space 
 inclosed by the mile race-track was fairly level. The 
 west end was covered by closely-packed tents of the 
 camp, the east end was diversified by a grove of hand¬ 
 some trees, and about one hundred yards back from 
 the judge’s tower, just opposite the grand stand, was 
 a dense growth of shrubbery and underbrush, form¬ 
 ing a copse which was entirely impenetrable. Between 
 this copse and the stands all was clear and open; behind 
 and beyond the ground was also unencumbered, and 
 from the stands a good view could be obtained. Every¬ 
 thing had been lavishly advertised, including a rough 
 sketch-map of the position, and as outlined by the press 
 the plan of battle promised some realistic features and 
 fine spectacular effect. 
 
SHAM BATTLES. 
 
 167 
 
 Fresh from his triumphs at the Dubuque encampment, 
 a gallant soldier of the regular infantry had come in from 
 the frontier to plan the grand attack on the camp of the 
 “ W. N. G.,” at Cold Spring, and in person to conduct 
 the assault. The defense was intrusted to Mr. X. him¬ 
 self. The last time he and “the major” had sniffed the 
 fumes of battle together was the damp, misty morning of 
 Crook’s withdrawal from the Indian villages which he 
 had captured at Slim Buttes the previous day, and to the 
 major in question and to Mr. X. had been assigned the 
 duty of burning every stitch of Indian property that 
 couldn’t be carried away. That was blinding, beastly, 
 wretched work, for everything was so drenched with 
 rain it was hard to get fire to take hold. But before they 
 got half through their “ sham ” duties among their friends 
 and fellow-citizens, this summer afternoon at Cold Spring, 
 both these rival commanders were ready to wish they 
 were back in the smoke, mud, and sharp skirmishing 
 around the Sioux villages. 
 
 As set forth in the papers, the attacking force was to 
 appear through a gap in the fence at the east end, and, 
 hidden from view of the camp by the copse and grove 
 to run its artillery up to the right and left; to deploy its 
 infantry in support of the guns, and then to open sudden 
 and furious fire. The alarm and the long roll were to 
 sound at once over on the tented field; the guns of the 
 defenders were to reply with all speed and uproar. Paper 
 shells were to be kept bursting on high and shrieking 
 realistically through the air, and as Mr. X. was to have 
 four guns to the major’s one, the latter was to allow him¬ 
 self to be temporarily silenced. Then Mr. X. was to ad¬ 
 vance the infantry from his left wing across the open 
 
i68 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 field between camp and the copse in spirited attempt to 
 capture the westward guns of his friend the major, but 
 was to be driven back in confusion by the withering fire 
 from the rifles of the supporting force. A rally, and re¬ 
 newal of the attempt with increased numbers was to re¬ 
 sult in similar disaster, and Mr. X.’s left wing, finding 
 the enemy in front too strong, was to retire to the general 
 line and resume sharp artillery practice; and the right 
 wing, which up to this time was only menacing the 
 major’s gallant left in sufficient force to prevent his send¬ 
 ing re-enforcements through the grove to his assailed 
 flank, was now destined to assume the offensive in good 
 earnest. 
 
 First a heavy skirmish line was to push out; then a 
 strong line of battle was to sweep down upon the major’s 
 guns; two big battalions were to concentrate their fire on 
 one little one, drawn up in full view of the grand stand 
 and stretching from the judge’s tower across in front of 
 the copse; this was gradually to crumble and give way 
 before the storm, and then Mr. X.’s whole line was to 
 advance cheering and at the run; the cavalry were to 
 come sweeping down with the general advance, close to 
 the race-track, and then, as the major’s left began sifting 
 away, with bugle-blast and stirring war-cry and flashing 
 sabre and rushing steed, the Light-Horse was to charge 
 down past the open-mouthed populace, dash through the 
 guns like Custer’s troopers at Winchester, and go hack¬ 
 ing and hewing among the dispirited infantry of the foe, 
 who were to throw down their arms and beg for mercy 
 in full view of the ladies in the big pavilion, and the 
 horsemen were thus to be the heroes of the day. Then, 
 with his left crushed and shattered, the major himself 
 
SHAM BATTLES. 
 
 169 
 
 would have no alternative but to come forth and grace¬ 
 fully tender his sword to the triumphant foe. It was 
 most magnanimous in the planner of the plot thus to 
 designate himself to play the part of the vanquished. 
 Perhaps, however, he knew what the result was going to 
 be. It read, like the French army returns in 1870, all 
 very well on paper. Now, let us see how it turned out. 
 
 At 3.30 p.m., as advertised, the attacking force was to 
 appear through an eastern gate, and carefully conceal its 
 march upon the distant camp. At 3.45 the head of the 
 column did reach the prearranged gap in the fence, but 
 that was as far as it got, for the time being at least. 
 There was no corresponding gap in the dense array of 
 wagons, carts, carriages, omnibuses, etc., wedged all over 
 the circular sweep of track in front. But there was no 
 hurry any more than there was need of bothering about 
 concealing their movements from the encamped foe half 
 a mile to the west. Neither could see the other with 
 glasses of “ hextra million power.” The entire inter¬ 
 vening space—the field of battle itself—was now occupied 
 by the populace, and some thirty thousand friends and 
 fellow-citizens jubilantly roamed or squatted over the 
 plain where by this time the skirmish-lines should be at 
 work, and over whose green sward the 12-pounders 
 should now be belching forth their thunder. 
 
 The manager sat in the judge’s tower a picture of per¬ 
 turbation. Orderlies, messengers, police, “ Pinkertons,” 
 and stray guardsmen had been dispatched through the 
 throng. On the one hand were the crowded seats of 
 paying spectators who were clamoring for the show to 
 begin ; on the other—on the great field—swarmed the 
 gleeful many,—“ hoi polloi —not one in ten of whom had 
 H 15 
 
170 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 paid a dime to get in, and yet they were masters of the 
 situation. 
 
 “ If you don’t clear this field and retire to the race¬ 
 track the battle can’t come off!” roared Mr. Ferguson. 
 
 “ Den give us our money back!” yelled a gang of 
 gamins in the crowd,—and the crowd cheered delight¬ 
 edly. The manager fumed and raved. Finally he 
 mounted and came cantering into camp, where Mr. X. 
 and the gallant defenders were placidly waiting to be 
 attacked. 
 
 “ What are we to do, by thunder ?” says Mr. Ferguson. 
 “ That crowd covers every inch of space you were going 
 to fight over. Can’t you get ’em off?” 
 
 “ Haven’t men enough in camp to begin to try. Fast 
 as we shove ’em to one side they’ll swarm in on the 
 other. Here—I’ll show, you,” says a field-officer of 
 infantry whose battalion happens to be in readiness. 
 Deploying four companies as skirmishers, he makes a slow 
 wheel southward. The crowd laughs, rolls slowly back 
 until it becomes dense; then refuses to budge. Mean¬ 
 time, the space just vacated is promptly occupied by 
 other enterprising citizens, and after ten minutes’ lively 
 skirmish-drill the field is practically full as ever. It 
 dosen’t mend matters to tell Mr. Ferguson that if he 
 hadn’t taken the sentries away in the first place the 
 crowd wouldn’t be here now. He knows that. 
 
 But an unexpected ally appears. Black clouds have 
 been gathering. There is vivid flash and thunder clap; 
 then a sudden deluge. The heavens descended in a torrent 
 that in five minutes swept that great inclosure clear of 
 every unfeathered biped and leveled many a tent with the 
 earth. The mob had fled to the State-fair buildings,—the 
 
SHAM BATTLES. 
 
 171 
 
 stables, horse-sheds, stands, benches,—and, even then, 
 thousands were soaked to the skin. Thanks to Jupiter 
 , Pluvius, the field was ours. In ten minutes it ceased as 
 suddenly as it began. Then the sentries lined the rail 
 fence at the track, and from camp to copse we held the 
 ground. So, too, had there been a stampede of all open 
 vehicles down at the east end. Thousands of visitors 
 of both sexes were drenched, but there was no use in 
 retreating farther. The sun came out bright and warm. 
 The major and his daring column dragged their guns 
 through the dripping fields. The thunder of the heavens 
 was suddenly answered by the hoarse bellow of the light 
 twelves. The bugles in camp rang out “ to arms,” and 
 the blue puffs of bursting shells scattered papier-mache in 
 powdery fragments upon the upward-gazing faces. No 
 sooner was the major’s line established than he was 
 backed up by the populace. Whatsoever might be local 
 prejudice or sympathy, the major was now bound to have 
 the best of it. No concentration of blank-cartridge fire 
 could ever drive him back. All Milwaukee was wedged 
 in behind him ; hack and hansom, cab and carriage, men, 
 women, and children; a solid mass of eager humanity, 
 moist, dripping, but determined, now re-enforced his line. 
 It was now all he could do to hold his own against his 
 backers. Under that surging impulse from the rear a 
 headlong charge on camp—a total revolution of the pro¬ 
 gramme—seemed far more probable. 
 
 Bang and roar went the big guns; pop and rattle the 
 little ones. The skirmishers danced out to the front; 
 and then, in spite of probable annihilation, refused to 
 go dancing back until their officers dragged them. 
 Stretcher-men, duly detailed, scurried forward to pick up 
 
172 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 warriors presumably dead, who became suddenly resur¬ 
 rected and declined to be taken to the rear. All this, 
 however, occurred on the side farthest from the crowded 
 stand and pavilion, and people were only moderately ex¬ 
 cited, for on the south side of the field, where now were 
 packed the throngs, only a long-range artillery duel and 
 some scattered skirmish fire was going on. 
 
 Now came the second stage, and down on the major’s 
 fated left bore the heavy battalions of the right wing; 
 and no sooner did the line of battle move to the front 
 than, as at the east end, the crowd came tumbling over 
 the scattered sentries and streaming out upon the field. 
 Mr. X., to his disgust, was re-enforced by a cheering and 
 enthusiastic mob of fellow-citizens, who came chasing 
 after his line, bound—since there was no danger in it— 
 to be in at the death. Detaching his cavalry with orders 
 to scour up and down, over and across the fields in his 
 rear, so that if the foe were compelled, by force of circum¬ 
 stances, to stand their ground, instead of yielding it, as 
 prearranged, he at least might have a line of retreat open, 
 Mr. X. galloped on after his right wing, now hotly en¬ 
 gaged, and burning powder at the rate of a barrel a 
 second. Vast clouds of the “villainous saltpetre” rolled 
 on high and obscured the opposite line. Swells, in light 
 wagons, and lovely dames, in carriages, finding it impos¬ 
 sible to see through the battle-smoke, came whipping 
 down the course behind the foot-throng and reached a 
 gap where stalwart policemen and guards, with fixed 
 bayonets, had, up to this time, prevented any one from 
 squeezing “ between the lines.” Through here the cap¬ 
 tured guns were to be dragged,—when we got them,— 
 but just at this moment all four of them together let go a 
 
SHAM BATTLES. 
 
 173 
 
 thunderous “ fire by battery.” A dozen teams took fright, 
 became uncontrollable, and, despite guards and police, 
 veered in through this very gap, and the next thing that 
 the triumphant right wing knew, there came, charging 
 through the battle-smoke,—What ? The elephants of 
 Hannibal ? the war-chariots of Darius ? No ! Half a 
 dozen snorting, racing teams, bounding carriages, and 
 affrighted occupants suddenly appeared, as suddenly 
 whirled about, and again became swallowed up in smoke ; 
 and as nothing on earth could live in front of such a 
 blast of lead in open field, and, as the foe as well as the 
 luckless charioteers would have been blown out of exist¬ 
 ence by this time, “ Cease firing” was sounded, shouted, 
 yelled, and finally enforced. And then, at last, as the 
 smoke cleared away, and people were revealed chasing 
 after stray hats,—chimney-pot and Gainsborough,—and 
 others hanging on to the heads of affrighted horses, and 
 others still picking themselves up and limping out of the 
 way, there stood the opposing line, its last cartridge 
 gone, its position no longer tenable from a military point 
 of view, and no longer “ vacatable” from any other. 
 Unable to retreat, the heroic left, with fixed bayonets, 
 grimly faced the coming foe, bent on dying like the 
 Twenty-fourth at Isandlhwana. 
 
 Mr. X. sent an aide-de-camp around by the race-track 
 to remind the commander of the inimical left that he 
 was whipped, and really must fall back so that he could 
 be annihilated by our now impatient dragoons, according 
 to programme. Meantime, the two opposing lines glared 
 at each other like pugilists between rounds. The aide 
 came dashing back across the “ zone of fire” with the 
 information that the major was deeply sensible of the 
 
 » 5 * 
 
174 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 fact that he oughtn’t to hold his position, but he simply 
 could not fall back. If relief weren’t sent him in two 
 minutes he’d have to fall forward in deference to the pop¬ 
 ular impact ,—vis a tergo y —in which event, said he, Mr. 
 X. and his bold dragoons had better get out of the way. 
 
 “ The guard surrenders, but cannot die,” says the aide. 
 “ Shall I turn the cavalry loose on the crowd ?” 
 
 “ No; they might get lost, and we want them for dress 
 parade. Go and tell Major George, who commands that 
 staggering battalion, that I’ll give him one last volley, 
 and they must all drop in their tracks.” 
 
 “ Then the crowd will bust over them and come at us,” 
 says the pessimistic aide. “ We won’t have time even 
 to yell ‘ Police !’ ” 
 
 “ Then we can but die in our tracks. There’s no re¬ 
 treat. The crowd behind is as thick as it is in front.” 
 
 “ Can’t we slip out between ’em and let the two crowds 
 come together?” suggests the aide. 
 
 “ Wouldn’t do. A sham fight was advertised. They’d 
 sue the management for breach of contract if they got a 
 real one. Give a general feu de joie y and then tell every 
 man to yell, * Both sides whipped.’ ” 
 
 A moment more of crashing musketry, blinding 
 smoke, and deafening cheers. When the clouds rolled 
 by a tumultuous mass of perspiring soldiery was revealed 
 tossing caps and helmets skyward and yelling triumph. 
 Thanks to the populace, the battle of Cold Spring was 
 declared drawn. 
 
 Then we tried it for the benefit of another gift enter¬ 
 prise in Chicago; and here, under the pretentious title 
 of “ Grand International Military Camp,” etc., a big 
 aggregation of bandsmen and militia assembled from all 
 
SHAM BATTLES. 
 
 175 
 
 over the West, and the War Department had been in¬ 
 duced to order a light battery, a troop of cavalry, and a 
 battalion of infantry from the regular service thither for 
 duty. Sham battles were promised every afternoon, and 
 some of them were ludicrous in the last degree. 
 
 To begin with, the crowd, as in Milwaukee, swarmed 
 over the “ Pinkertons” and police before the troops ap¬ 
 peared, and when we came forth to do our deeds of 
 daring before the ladies in the grand stands and pa¬ 
 vilions, the managers rode vainly to and fro through the 
 populace imploring it to fall back to the seats provided 
 for its accommodation all around the edges of the battle¬ 
 field ; but you might as well reason with a herd of 
 buffalo as with a Chicago crowd. It is never so happy 
 as when in mischief. Where one man out of ten would 
 have enjoyed seeing the military display, nine out of ten 
 thought it bigger fun to bother the “ Pinkertons,” whom 
 the populace of the Garden City hate as rats do a terrier. 
 Argument, entreaty, and threats of “ no game” being 
 alike useless, the police being only a handful in face of 
 such numbers, the commander of the regulars was ap¬ 
 pealed to, and presently out came the blue skirmish-lines, 
 steadily deploying at “ arms port,” in face of the throng, 
 and then the masses slowly yielded, retired to the 
 benches and the fences, and, after much bother, having 
 cleared the field and turned the crowds over to the 
 police and the local sentries, the regulars were recalled 
 to take their places for the thrilling combat, and in ten 
 minutes the crowd was out in the field again. Cavalry 
 charges were rendered impossible. The infantry banged 
 away at each other through the intervening mob, and 
 everybody laughed until he or she was tired. 
 
176 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 That evening the management insisted that we must 
 have brigade dress parade, as advertised. The “ regular” 
 commander said he would not undertake to parade and 
 keep the crowd back too. If the “ management” would 
 handle the crowd, he would handle the troops. The 
 management bit its finger-nails and scratched its head, 
 and again appealed to the crowd to fallback,—“You 
 can see just as well at the seats.” But the crowd stolidly 
 grinned and stood. Then a troop of regulars rode forth 
 and slowly and civilly as possible for the third time 
 herded the throng back to the fences and the benches; 
 the grand stands and pavilions applauded; the Pinkertons 
 and a line of sentries—not regulars—were placed in pos¬ 
 session. A distinguished war veteran rode forth to 
 assume command of the “ line of masses,” now forming; 
 six battalions of foot, the light battery of the Fourth 
 Artillery, and a swell cavalry battalion made a handsome 
 show as it faced Chicago. For a few minutes the crowd 
 of “ unwashed” was held within bounds ; but no genuine 
 American, of Irish or other descent, conceives that he 
 can suitably see anything so long as some other Ameri¬ 
 can is nearer the object than he, and little by little police, 
 Pinkertons, and sentries were impelled linewards, and 
 when Mr. X., as adjutant-general, galloped out to salute 
 the commanding officer with the present of the entire 
 command, he couldn’t find his chief; he was swallowed 
 up in the crowd. 
 
 Next day and the next we took matters in our own 
 hands; established sentries before the crowd got there, 
 and managed to have a clear field. Still there were 
 absurd features. One day was to be devoted to a realistic 
 Indian massacre, since Chicago couldn’t be satisfied 
 
SHAM BATTLES. 
 
 177 
 
 without painting the camp red and having something 
 genuinely “ bluggy.” A lot of New Mexican aborigines 
 were there, fellows who were about the color and size of 
 the Apache, and matched him about as a cat does a cata¬ 
 mount. A gallant major of Wisconsin infantry, who had 
 won the hearts of the whole “ regular” contingent, was to 
 figure as a bearer of dispatches, and was to be summarily 
 dispatched by Apaches ambuscaded in the rocks (bales of 
 hay), and scalped in sight of a shuddering grand stand. 
 
 The government policy of sending a company to 
 “ punish” a tribe was then to be fully illustrated, and 
 
 Captain-, of the Twenty-third, was to show how he 
 
 and his company used to take the war-path in Arizona, 
 where indeed many of their number had bitten the dust 
 but a decade or so before. These were to be appro¬ 
 priately slaughtered by surrounding hordes (there were 
 about forty-five of the “ Lagunas”), who were then to 
 indulge in a wild and ungodly revel and scalp-dance, to 
 be interrupted by a furious charge of cavalry (regulars 
 in full-dress uniform in deference to the wishes of the 
 management), whereat they were to scatter all over the 
 “ prairie” and be pursued to their lairs, rallying quickly 
 and in turn overcoming the luckless troopers, and finally 
 the forces of a whole department, like those of Arizona 
 after the squad of Geronimo, were to be launched on the 
 Indians. There would be a surround, a terrific combat, 
 a final surrender, and, with the plain covered with 
 corpses, it was hoped the crowd would go home satis¬ 
 fied. Most of the troops by this time had gone, dis¬ 
 gusted. The regulars, being under orders, had to stay 
 and help out the management. 
 
 Well, that fight was a stunner, albeit carried out with 
 
173 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 startling variations from the advertised programme. 
 Nothing could have been more realistic than the Badger 
 major’s headlong tumble from his galloping horse, 
 nothing more dramatic than the scalping act and war- 
 whoops of the Indians; nothing more disciplined than 
 the “ die-in-your-tracks” business of the designated vic¬ 
 tims of the gallant Twenty-third; nothing more blood¬ 
 curdling than the wild war-dance of the warriors around 
 their prostrate foes. 
 
 But there ended the lesson. Intoxicated by the cheers 
 of the crowd, and fired by the taste of imaginary blood, 
 our savage allies concluded to fight out the rest of the 
 thing on their own lines, instead of those of the pro¬ 
 gramme. When the troopers came dashing on the scene 
 from behind the bluffs (a big wooden bullet-stop), the 
 wild warriors faced them like heroes instead of scattering 
 like sheep. Bear-with-a-hole-in-his-tail was knocked 
 endwise by Lieutenant A.’s rushing charger, He-that- 
 shuns-fire-water (a truly remarkable savage) was flattened 
 out by a whack from the back of Lieutenant S.’s glit¬ 
 tering sabre, and Wolf-stones-in-his-belly rattled for an 
 hour after the back-somersault he turned when colliding 
 with Sergeant Murphy’s steed. But they and their 
 comrades were on their feet in an instant, banging away 
 with blank cartridges at the bewildered troopers, dancing 
 and yelling like all possessed. The cavalry, having 
 no orders to slaughter, fled in some confusion, as the 
 only means of saving their horses’ hides from scorch¬ 
 ing. Then hundreds of infantry, re-enforced by marines 
 and “ blue-jackets” from the United States steamer 
 “ Michigan,” marched forth upon the field,—the gallant 
 ensign in command of the latter bestriding a calico pony 
 captured from the foe,—and this overwhelming force 
 
SHAM BATTLES. 
 
 179 
 
 bore down upon the Apaches and poured sheets of fire 
 upon them, and still they danced and sang, yelped and 
 clattered, and still refused to die. The crowd roared 
 with laughter and delight; the “ management” swore a 
 blue streak; the sailors and marines fired away their last 
 cartridge and begged to be allowed to board the enemy. 
 The Wisconsin major, tired of being dead and scalped 
 every three minutes, dragged himself behind a hay-bale 
 to die for the sixth or eighth time, and at last the troops 
 “slowly and sullenly” withdrew, leaving the Apaches 
 masters of the situation. Whereupon, having still some 
 cartridges, and unlimited fight among them, these noble 
 red men turned to and banged away at each other until 
 the manager begged them to clear the field for parade, 
 whereupon again the crowd set up a yell of “ Shoot the 
 manager!” and the battle of Washington Park came to 
 an end by that official’s unconditional surrender. 
 
 Yet, it was a newspaper man who came tearing up to 
 the office to criticise this brilliant spectacular effect. 
 Rodney’s battery had been quietly “ hitching in” for 
 parade as the affair was being fought out, and slowly 
 marched in on the track beyond the field in time to 
 witness the fag end of the fight. It had no more to do 
 with the “ shindig” than a light battery—as such—ever 
 has to do with Indian warfare,* but the representative 
 of the Chicago press thought otherwise. 
 
 “ It was a swindle,” said he; “ that battery was within 
 easy range and it never fired a gun.” 
 
 We haven’t had any sham fights since, and if Mr. X. 
 is consulted, we won’t have any more. 
 
 * This was written before the Hotchkiss gun had become a prominent 
 feature in frontier battle. 
 
i8o 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 THE ADVANTAGES OF ONE’S OWN WORK¬ 
 SHOP. 
 
 For reasons set forth several years ago in the first of 
 his numerous papers on “ The Trials of Staff-Officers,” 
 Mr. X. was compelled to do a good deal of regimental 
 work at night and beneath his own roof. In the first set 
 of quarters occupied by him, at Russell, there was a 
 “ linter” on the east side of the cottage, separated from 
 the parlor by the hall-way and comparatively isolated 
 from the “ social” side of the premises. Thanks to a 
 six months’ campaign in the field, when no returns 
 were made, and during which time a new colonel and 
 a new adjutant had been “sprung” on the regiment, 
 everything in the office was in arrears. The colonel 
 found the command wofully uninstructed in drill and 
 garrison duties, though there was no discount on its 
 work in the field, and he and his new staff-officer were 
 kept mighty busy, especially the latter, in drills and cere¬ 
 monies of every kind. We were very short of clerks, 
 could get no more without depriving company com¬ 
 manders of theirs, and so Mr. X. tried by hard night- 
 work to make up the deficiency. As he was required to 
 be out at reveille and at work all day, it can readily be 
 seen that only a minimum allowance of sleep was accorded 
 him, and frequently three hours was the utmost he could 
 hope for. Mr. X. knows now that no one man could 
 accomplish what he attempted that year and that he was 
 
THE ADVANTAGES OF ONE’S OWN WORKSHOP. l8l 
 
 an ass to try; but try he did, and one of the prerequi¬ 
 sites was a “ den” where he could work undisturbed. 
 
 We had a charming girl visiting us that winter. All 
 the bachelors at the post were paying her devoted atten¬ 
 tion. There was not an hour from guard-mounting to 
 midnight that some of them were not infesting the 
 premises, and Mrs. X. not infrequently had to order the 
 laughing crowd out of the house when midnight came, 
 declaring that her friend and guest must be allowed a 
 few hours’ rest between visits. 
 
 There was a piano in the parlor and a guitar. There 
 was fun in full blast every evening, but the adjutant 
 would come in from tattoo roll-call and then shut him¬ 
 self up in his shop and scratch away at the various books 
 or papers, striving to be oblivious to the merry laughter 
 across the hall. By and by one big fellow, whose detail 
 as post commissary enabled him to “ get the bulge,” as 
 they expressed it, on the others, came to having the field 
 to himself during the hours when the regiment was 
 absorbed in morning drills, and one day the wife of his 
 bosom demanded of Mr. X., “ Well, are you never going 
 to express an opinion about the engagement ?” 
 
 “ What engagement ?” asked Mr. X., blankly, for every 
 moment of his time had been given to his work, and he 
 had seen nothing going on under his very nose. 
 
 “ Why, our engagement,” was madame’s reply, the tone 
 whereof fully indicated her proper vexation at the imbe¬ 
 cility of her lord. 
 
 “ I thought that was rather an old story,” says Mr. X., 
 haplessly. 
 
 “ Oh ! How can you be so—stupid ? Don’t you see ? 
 
 Haven’t you heard ? Is it possible you haven’t suspected 
 
 16 
 
182 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 -’s engagement ? She accepted him four days ago, 
 
 and they both think it so queer you haven’t congratu¬ 
 lated them.” 
 
 “ Great Scott! Let me go and do it nowand Mr. X. 
 makes a rush across the hall and into the parlor and over 
 to the sofa, where sits enthroned a bewitching brunette 
 with sparkling eyes and flushing cheeks and flashing 
 white teeth, who smiles up at him as he says,— 
 
 “ How blind I’ve been ! My dear girl, you don’t know 
 how glad I am to hear it. With all my heart I wish you 
 joy, and—Billy, old man,” and here Mr. X. turns on a 
 brother cavalryman and wrings his hand hard, “ you’re a 
 lucky fellow if there ever was one. Just don't I con¬ 
 gratulate you!” 
 
 But Billy’s face is one of gloom, and Mrs. X.’s visage 
 portends a storm. “ Why, aren’t you the happy man ?” 
 blunders Mr. X., in continuation. 
 
 “ I regret to say I’m not,” says Lieutenant Billy, in 
 tones sepulchral, and then Mr. X. is remanded to prison 
 and properly lectured. It seems Billy wanted to be, but 
 wasn’t. She was promising to be a sister to him, and 
 expressing the conventional hope that, as Mrs. Somebody 
 Else, she might still number him as one of her dearest 
 friends, when X. appeared, like an old mole just bursting 
 forth from the moist and loamy earth, dazzled and blinded 
 by the sudden sunshine. 
 
 But the real happy man was not allowed much hap¬ 
 piness, after all, in that garrison. His defrauded friends 
 and comrades made common cause against him. There 
 was a bachelor ranch next door,—a bachelor mess,— 
 whereat “ the boys” all congregated right after retreat, 
 and from which he invariably made his escape just as 
 
THE ADVANTAGES OF ONE’S OWN WORKSHOP. 183 
 
 soon as he could satisfy the demands of hunger, and 
 then his well-known step would be heard on our piazza 
 without, and our bonnie guest would be borne from our 
 own dinner-table to grant her accepted just a moment 
 or two of precious tete-a-tete before his troubles would 
 begin. Before the rest of us could finish our coffee, bang 
 would go the gong-bell at the door, and our darky 
 maid would usher in the grinning quartermaster, a most 
 eligible bachelor, and “ Good-evening, Mrs. X.; good¬ 
 evening, Miss Blank,” would be his laughing salutation 
 as he entered. “ Thought you might be lonely this 
 evening, so I dropped in early. Hello, old man! You 
 here, too ? Why, if I’d known that , now, I could have 
 
 gone on to Colonel K-’s. Mr. X. gone over to play 
 
 whist yet, Mrs. X. ?” 
 
 " No, he’s in the den, but he goes in five minutes. Did 
 you want to see him ?” for madame has a soft spot in her 
 heart for the luckless lover, and wants to secure him a 
 moment or two of bliss in answer to his imploring gaze. 
 
 “ Oh, no—no, just wanted to know, so as to time my 
 visit up there after the card-party gets out of the sitting- 
 room. I can stay a whole half-hour yet.” 
 
 And he does; and when, at last, he takes his leave he 
 slips into his own abode next door. “ Your turn now, 
 Bobby,” he says to the nearest youngster, goes on about 
 his other calls, and Bobby trots in to X.’s forthwith, and 
 he spends his half or three-quarters of an hour chatting 
 blithely with Miss Blank, and totally ignoring the black 
 looks and sullen mien of his big comrade. 
 
 Then he goes, and the third relief, in the person of 
 another sub., comes in ; and so they keep it up until X. 
 comes home from the general’s whist-table at eleven and 
 
184 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 betakes himself to the den for work, and there he finds 
 his cherished friend, the accepted suitor, striding up and 
 down the narrow confines of that apartment, biting his 
 nails in wrath, and blaspheming at the rate of a dollar a 
 second,—if the regulations on that subject were ever 
 enforced. His half a dozen merciless chums have suc¬ 
 ceeded in making the evening a hell to him, as he doesn’t 
 hesitate to say, and even at this late hour in come two 
 more of the gang. 
 
 “ Saw your lights burning in the parlor, Mrs. X., and 
 thought we’d just drop in to say good-night,” they ex¬ 
 plain. “ Why, where’s S-?” And S——, in the den 
 
 with Mr. X., grits his teeth and swears anew. It was all 
 great fun for them, keeping this up night after night, but 
 as the damsel had soon to go eastward, whither her 
 adorer could not then follow, it was no lark for him. 
 Neither did it help the adjutant in his labors. 
 
 But even that invaded sanctuary was better than the 
 next. We were “ ranked out” of those quarters presently 
 and forced into a set without a “ linter,” and here Mr. X.’s 
 den was fixed at the rear end of the hall,—a space about 
 eight feet by seven,—and here was the table on which 
 were his books, papers, pens, rulers, etc., and here he 
 strove to do his night-work, only to discover that a desk 
 which is used as the baby’s playground by day is but a 
 mess of confusion at other times. Somehow or other 
 there was no such thing as getting the coveted workshops 
 after that. It was worse still when we went on university 
 duty and boarded in two rooms. It did not improve 
 when we took up our abode on the shores of a lovely 
 inland lake, and, having retired from active service, Mr. 
 X. found that his pen was all he had with which to eke 
 
THE ADVANTAGES OF ONE’S OWN WORKSHOP. 185 
 
 out a scanty income and earn a home for the wife and 
 olive-branches. There were several of the latter now, 
 and dollars flew from his hands faster than he could 
 amass them. For a time there was a nook in the garret, 
 a dark corner far aloft in the big house of an indulgent 
 relation, where X. had a refuge and where he could work 
 uninterruptedly, so long as he could stand the fumes of 
 the kerosene lamp,—there was no other light but a gas- 
 jet in the shop,—and between the gloom and the close 
 atmosphere it wasn’t the liveliest place for composition, 
 but it was generally far above the danger of interruption, 
 and that was the main thing for a fellow whose ideas did 
 not flow spontaneously at all, but had to be dragged out 
 by the roots, as it were. It was up in this dark and 
 gloomy, but most acceptable, den that X. wrote and 
 studied, grinding out a big book of some eight hundred 
 pages for an Eastern publisher on some “ Famous 
 Battles” of history, and finding some happiness in the 
 ten weeks’ wrestle which resulted in the production of 
 “ Marion’s Faith,”—the first sequel to “ The Colonel’s 
 Daughter.” Then we were able to move into rather 
 pleasanter quarters as a household, though still crowded 
 in the winters, while the summers were spent up under 
 the beautiful bluffs of Lake Pepin, and at last,—at last 
 came the time when the longed-for roost of our own 
 seemed a possibility. 
 
 “ What makes it loveliest of all,” said placens uxor , as 
 she glanced about her cozy little parlor and library 
 (“ Between the Lines” had furnished our pretty nook 
 “ from turret to foundation-stone”), “ is that now at last 
 you have your own den shut off from the rest of the 
 world, and there you can work utterly uninterrupted.” 
 
TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 186 
 
 It was alluring. It did look plausible. Aside from 
 the deep, deep thanksgiving that filled his heart for such 
 a bright, cheery, homelike nest for the wife and little 
 ones, there was a heart-felt sense of gratitude that here 
 he might be able to delve at the trade which force of 
 circumstances had assigned him, and be free from the 
 score of interruptions that beset him elsewhere. The 
 selected “den” overlooked the children’s playground at 
 the back of the house. It also overlooked many of the 
 neighbors’ back yards, the tennis court of our small club, 
 the lake-side drive of the metropolis, and beyond, the 
 sparkling, dancing waves of old Michigan. “ There’s 
 inspiration for you!” was the daily declaration of the 
 lady friends whom Mrs. X. delightedly brought up to 
 show over the premises, and in course of time the test 
 was to be made. 
 
 We got into our prized possession simultaneously with 
 a lively tomkitten, whom the children promptly adopted 
 and the servants welcomed as sure to bring luck. We 
 spent a fortnight getting settled, and by the end of that 
 time Mr. X.’s den was indeed a joy to him. The walls 
 were hung with maps of old campaigns, photographs of 
 dozens of fellows of the regiments we had known and 
 served with, trophies from the far frontier, spurs, sabres, 
 field-glasses, belts, the old aignillette and shoulder-knots 
 of the adjutancy. A big flat desk, with abundant drawers 
 and pigeon-holes, was placed where the east light would 
 be at the scribbler’s left; the ponderous revolving book¬ 
 case was at the other hand. Shelves and stands were 
 built on every side for such volumes as were professional 
 or most frequently needed, and then X. was ready to 
 begin at a yarn for a long-suffering publisher, who was 
 
THE ADVANTAGES OF ONE’S OWN WORKSHOP. 187 
 
 politely but positively upbraiding him for not getting to 
 work before. 
 
 “ Dunraven Ranch” was the first story attempted, and 
 Mr. X. fondly hoped, and Mrs. X. confidently prophe¬ 
 sied, it could be done in a month. “The Deserter” 
 had only taken three weeks. “ From the Ranks” was 
 written in four, and that was sufficient, said her ladyship, 
 to prove that the new story could be done easily and 
 readily in just as short a time, now that at last X. had 
 his den. 
 
 And this is the way it worked: Breakfast is over on a 
 bright June day. The schools have closed. The chil¬ 
 dren of the neighborhood appear to be congregated in 
 our seventy-five by fifty back yard, and a very pretty 
 and picturesque lot they make. There are over a dozen 
 little maids of every age, from five to fifteen. There are 
 no boys except tiny scamps of three and four summers, 
 X. junior among them. They are playing “ puss in the 
 corner,” and the game is in full blast. Mr. X. in spirit 
 is away on the Llano Estacado, telling, or trying to tell, 
 of a race with the Rossiter hounds. The fun grows fast 
 afid furious in the playground. Some girls cannot laugh 
 without screaming, cannot catch or be caught without 
 ear-piercing shrieks. X. cannot bear to spoil their fun, 
 and cannot work ahead so much as a line within earshot 
 of such a racket. He compromises; gets up and closes 
 the windows and resumes his seat and pen. But he 
 cannot so soon get back to Texas. “ Let’s see, where 
 were we? ‘The stream bent southward just at the 
 point where he had first caught sight of the horseman, 
 and-’ ” 
 
 Rat-tat-tat on the door. “ Come in !” 
 
188 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 “ Oh, Mr. X., the man’s here about the carpet!” 
 
 “ What carpet ?” 
 
 “ I don’t know, sir. He says Mrs. X. was at the store 
 yesterday.” 
 
 “Where’s Mrs. X.” 
 
 “ Gone to market. She said she’d be back in en 
 minutes.” 
 
 “ Then tell him to wait ten minutes.” 
 
 To the desk again. And back to the banks of the 
 Monee in pursuit of the thread of the yarn. It proves 
 illusive. Row in the back yard. A Babel of childish 
 voices. Lamentations and general excitement. The 
 Abigail from the kitchen vainly endeavors to restore 
 quiet. For a minute X. remains in the Pan-handle of 
 Texas hunting for that thread; but the wails from this 
 particular back yard, in the Cream City, fetch him 
 forthwith. Down goes the pen. Up goes the window. 
 “ What’s the matter, daughter ?” 
 
 “ Maudie Wilkins threw Birdie Jones’s hat over in the 
 next yard, and now she won’t go and get it.” 
 
 “ She pulled my doll’s shoes off, an’ she’s got ’em,” 
 says the accused Maud, who stoutly declines to come 
 into the garden of our neighbor and recover the vanished 
 hat. 
 
 “ I didn’t,” bawls Birdie. If Birdie grows up with that 
 voice, she’ll be a joy to her husband, thinks Mr. X. He 
 never had much luck in settling the quarrels of women 
 and children, and the buffets of past experience warn him 
 not to try. 
 
 “ Evangeline !”—this to the kitchen goddess below, 
 who, like Frank Stockton’s Pomona who longed to be 
 called Clare, was ambitious as to her Christian name, 
 
THE ADVANTAGES OF ONE’S OWN WORKSHOP. 189 
 
 and was probably only Angie originally, but the process 
 of evangelization began when she came to live with us,— 
 “ Evangeline, will you kindly step next door and recover 
 that hat, and give Birdie an apple, or a watermelon, 
 something to stop that awful gap.” 
 
 Evangy vanishes. So does Birdie, howling. The 
 prospect of so tame a recovery of the ravished head-gear 
 is not soothing to her wounded spirit. Her soul’s in 
 arms and eager for the humiliation of Maud. She can 
 be traced out across the street, up the walk on the west¬ 
 ern side, across the place with the lofty name beyond, as 
 in the old days we could follow the “ Armenia” miles 
 through the Hudson highlands by the echoing toot of 
 her steam calliope. The children anticipate reprisals 
 from the quarter whither she has gone. Maud scuttles 
 homeward to escape the excoriation that Birdie’s mother 
 is said to administer, and presently she comes. There’s 
 a ring at the bell, a knock at the den door. 
 
 “ Mrs. Jones is here, Mr. X., and wants to see you. I 
 told her Mrs. X. was out.” 
 
 “ Did you tell Mrs. Jones I was very busy ?” groans X. 
 
 “Yes, sir; but she says she must see somebody.” 
 
 Now, we don’t know Mrs. Jones at all except by repu¬ 
 tation, which is one reason we know her no better. She 
 is not, so to speak, in our set. She has four children 
 who do not go to school with ours, and who are not 
 congenial playmates. Indeed, some of our little friends 
 who are school-mates of our kids, and who eagerly wel¬ 
 comed us to this charming neighborhood, have received 
 parental injunctions not to play with the Jones girls at 
 anytime. But the little Joneses are all-pervading. De¬ 
 spite their unpopularity, they go everywhere, and wher- 
 
I9O TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 ever they go there is sure to be a row. It seems they 
 have few toys or playthings of their own and are pos¬ 
 sessed of the acquisitive faculty in marked degree. They 
 were prompt to call and welcome us on the day of our 
 arrival, and have been from that time to this the most 
 sociable of our neighbors. Mr. X. has been surprised to 
 find the quartette pulling over the books in the library 
 before breakfast-time on more than one occasion, and 
 pending the appearance of our little people out of doors, 
 the Joneses have not infrequently possessed themselves 
 of the tricycle, bicycle, doll carriages, express wagon, 
 etc., etc., and contented themselves therewith for hours 
 while our lambkins lamented. Stringent measures 
 have resulted in their exclusion from the house when 
 unbidden, but who could single out two or three of a 
 group of children and forbid them the playground ? 
 
 Yet wheresoever they go there is trouble, and what¬ 
 soever may be their own misdeeds, the uproar with which 
 they rush around the block to the maternal arms brings 
 her promptly to the rescue, and the tale of inflicted 
 wrong sends her forthwith to the scene. Mrs. Jones is 
 here to demand satisfaction. And the police patrol is a 
 mile away. Good-by, Dunraven; good-by. 
 
 Mr. X. regains his den in half an hour, wilted. But 
 for the coming of Mrs. X. he couldn’t have regained it 
 at all. That woman has the soul of a Desaix. She heard 
 the one-sided battle from afar. She marched au canon 
 forthwith. Mrs. Jones is in tears and the midst of a 
 terrible tale of her little Birdie’s sweet, shy, sensitive 
 spirit that shrivels under harshness or injustice. The 
 child had loved mine so. Here at last she had found 
 playmates who could understand her, sympathize with 
 
THE ADTANTAGES OF ONE’S OWN WORKSHOP. 191 
 
 her. Mrs. Jones had been so happy in seeing how 
 eagerly her children had rushed forth each morning to 
 spend the day at the X.’s, and now, like all the others, 
 the X.’s too were turning against her precious lambs. 
 Especially the lamb that had thrown herself howling 
 like a fog-horn out of the yard with the doll shoes in 
 her pocket. But that was accidental, as Mrs. Jones tri¬ 
 umphantly established after denying their presence there. 
 
 The row has cast a damper over the spirits of the 
 children, and a wet blanket over the Llano Estacado. 
 It was a blaze of sunshine there at ten o’clock. Now at 
 10.40 it seems to be pouring. Mrs. Jones has gone, for 
 she found it more difficult to hammer her views into the 
 head of the lady of the house, but her spirit hovers 
 over the Presently up comes Mrs. X. “ She won’t 
 
 come here again,” she says. “ Now, what can I do for 
 you down-town ?” 
 
 “ Bring me a bull-dog, the ugliest you can find, and 
 tie him at the front door. Must you go ? I’ve written 
 only ten lines in two hours.” 
 
 “ I’ve got to. There’s that sewing-girl coming to¬ 
 morrow and the material not yet bough., the Blakes 
 and Walkers come to tea to-night and I haven’t a thing. 
 I’ll give orders you are not to be disturbed for anything.” 
 And the lady of the house departs in that serene confi¬ 
 dence which so many housewives seem to have when 
 new at the business, that all that is necessary is to order 
 and folks obey. She is gone but ten minutes, and X. is 
 traveling back to Texas slowly. The children are again 
 at their play, though less noisily, and X. ventures to 
 leave his window up again. A hand-organ is heard in 
 the distance. Blessed relief. “ Money for the monkey ? 
 
192 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 Yes, my child, gladly. Here’s a whole dime. Keep him 
 and the crowd a block away as long as you can.” Ring 
 at the bell; knock at the den door. Evangeline with a 
 telegram: 
 
 “ Sorry to disturb you, but the boy says * it’s collect.’ ” 
 
 “ It isn’t. It’s paid. He’s a young swindler. Tell 
 him so.” 
 
 The dispatch is from publishers : “ Anxiously awaiting 
 manuscript. When will it be here ?” 
 
 Back comes Evangeline. “ It’s the answer to be paid; 
 and he wants car-fare for coming so far up-town.” 
 
 “ He will spend it in peanuts and chewing-gum. He 
 would never ride. He couldn’t stop and play marbles 
 if he did. It is paying a premium on dawdling; but 
 here goes. Give him a dime, and shut the door.” 
 
 Back in two minutes. “ Is there no answer ? Man¬ 
 ager said not to come back without it.” What answer 
 can I send ? Ten lines in two hours. More. It’s eleven 
 o’clock. There go the cathedral bells now. “ When 
 will the manuscript get there ? I don’t know. At this 
 rate, never. Tell him so. Stay! Tell him two o’clock 
 next spring, that’s as definite as I can make it. And 
 shut the door.” 
 
 Back to the valley of the Monee at last. The cloud- 
 shadows are sailing over the pampas. The cattle far 
 towards the horizon are browsing slowly down to water. 
 The Indian ponies on the slope beyond the Cheyenne 
 village are sleepily switching at the flies that swarm in 
 myriads about them. The- 
 
 “ Ow-w-w—Wa-a-a-h. O-eee—Go way! Wa-a-a-h. 
 O-hoo-oo—I won't! Wa-a-a-a-h ! /” 
 
 Down-stairs, three at a jump. It’s the voice of my 
 
THE ADVANTAGES OF ONE’S OWN WORKSHOP. 193 
 
 little Benjamin, the lamb of the flock, my baby boy. 
 He comes toddling through to the back yard, sur¬ 
 rounded by a swarm of sisters, cousins, friends, all sym¬ 
 pathetic, all soothing, all voluble in explanation, all 
 unavailing. 
 
 “ What’s the matter, my precious little man. Come 
 right to dad and tell him.” 
 
 “ I want ma-amma.. That n-na-asty old Rover f-frowed 
 me in the mud. Wa-a-a-h !” 
 
 Rover is our neighbor’s dog, big and playful, devoted 
 to my son and heir. It takes time, much time, to con¬ 
 sole the little man and more to repair damages. It is 
 11.30 when X. gets back to “ Dunraven.” It is 11.35 
 when a note is handed in. 
 
 “Dear Captain X.,— 
 
 “ We have a little fancy-dress party to-night, and my cousin, Mr. 
 
 H-, of Chicago, has unexpectedly arrived, and, as luck would have 
 
 it, without a costume of any kind. He is just about your size, and I told 
 him I knew you would be only too glad to let me have for him the uni¬ 
 form you lent Harry for the theatricals last year. We will take the best 
 of care of it, and be so much obliged. Please send it by bearer. 
 
 “ Yours sincerely, 
 
 “ E. V. B. B-. 
 
 “ P.S.—Oh, yes, and please send the helmet with the lovely plume, 
 and the high boots, and the sword. Also the gauntlets. 
 
 “ P.S. —And would you mind letting us have the white summer dress, 
 if not too much trouble?” 
 
 Lord no! It’s no trouble at all. Some of the traps 
 are up-stairs in the garret, some down in the cellar. 
 Can’t the boy come this afternoon when Mrs. X. is 
 home ? No. He is only a “ lightning delivery” boy, 
 and once is enough. It is 12.30 by the time X. roots 
 
 these things out, and he has just packed them, in one 
 
 in 17 
 
194 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 shape or other, into the wagon when the three-quarter 
 strikes, and Evangeline meets him,—consternation in her 
 eye. 
 
 “ Mr. X.! Didn’t Mrs. X. order whitefish for tea to¬ 
 night? They’ve sent up a big trout.” 
 
 “Whitefish, of course. Go over to the Hartwell’s 
 with my compliments, and ask if you can telephone to 
 the fish-market to send for this trout at once. We don’t 
 want it. We must have whitefish. And I must get back 
 to my work.” 
 
 Again at the den. Again screams of dismay from 
 the children. No Evangeline to answer their frantic cries. 
 My eldest daughter flies up the stairs. 
 
 “ What is it, my Brownie ?” 
 
 “Oh, papa! Could you come to the cellar? Prince 
 Purr-Purr has got his head caught in an empty tomato- 
 can and can’t get it out, and he’s nearly wild.” 
 
 So am I; but I fly to the rescue of Prince Purr-Purr, 
 —who is the household cat and pet. The process of 
 extrication is not pleasant for Purr-Purr, and he makes 
 it lively for me. I am tempted to leave him caught as 
 he is, but the entreaties of the children prevail. His 
 claws have gashed one hand and added to the excoria¬ 
 tions on my temper. It is after one when I get to the 
 desk. Meantime, Evangeline has returned with the in¬ 
 formation that she cannot get the fishmonger. It is also 
 time for the children’s luncheon. We dine—or rather 
 tea—late to-day, for friends are coming to try Lake 
 Superior whitefish, and the villain has sent us trout. X. 
 gives up. The manuscripts are pitched into the bottom 
 drawer, and a street-car takes him down-town. “ Simply 
 a mistake on the boy’s part,” says the imperturbable 
 
THE ADVANTAGES OF ONE’S OWN WORKSHOP. 195 
 
 vender of fish, poultry, and game. He has left your 
 whitefish at the Comstocks, and their trout with you. 
 Why didn’t you telephone ?” 
 
 “ Couldn’t get you, was Central’s explanation. Will 
 you kindly bless that boy for me?” And X. goes home, 
 ruffled in spirit and sore athirst and an hungered. Mrs. 
 X. is exhibiting the den to a lady friend as he returns,— 
 all her lady friends, at one time or other, seem to have 
 come to see the house. 
 
 “ Oh, Captain X.,” says the enthusiastic visitor, “ I’ve 
 just been telling Mrs. X. how lovely it all is; but this— 
 this is perfectly charming. What inspiration you must 
 find here,—the lovely rippling waters, the gleeful shouts 
 of the children, the-” 
 
 But Mrs. X. sees that the other side is uppermost in 
 her husband’s mind just now, and laughingly inter¬ 
 poses,— 
 
 “ Why don’t you get a telephone, and have peace ?” 
 she says, when the story of the morning is told. “ You 
 wouldn’t have had to go at all.” 
 
 Now, it was one of Mr. X.’s stipulations that we 
 shouldn’t have a telephone when we got the little home. 
 —He had had some experiences with it.—But we’ve got 
 one now. It isn’t in the den, but I hear it the Lord only 
 knows how many times a day. It is of no earthly use 
 to me, for the electric cars came in with it, and whenever 
 I want anybody down-town, the only way I can get them, 
 as a rule, is by the street-car. On the other hand, 
 nobody seems to have any difficulty in getting us,— 
 especially those who don’t want us at all. A dozen 
 times a day am I summoned to the instrument by its 
 sharp ring. 
 
196 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 “ Hello !” 
 
 “ Hello ! Is that Saint Mary’s ?” 
 
 “ No saint at all. It’s Captain X.” 
 
 “ Oh (disgustedly), I didn’t want you. Central! 
 Ce-e-e-ntral! Can’t you get me St. Mary’s ?” and the 
 shrill, feminine voice holds the line. 
 
 X. was hard at work and behind time, as usual, the 
 other day, when there came a vigorous ring. It was the 
 steward of the club who called. 
 
 “ Captain X., Colonel Bbbbleton wants particularly to 
 see you, and-” 
 
 “ Colonel who ?” 
 
 “ Colonel Bbbbleton, from Chicago.” 
 
 “ Spell it.” 
 
 “ I can’t.” 
 
 “Ask him to come to the instrument.” 
 
 “ He isn’t here. He’s just gone out. Says he’ll be 
 back in half an hour, but wants particularly to see you.” 
 
 Now, X. had just missed one old chum who was pass¬ 
 ing through town. He had heard from another back 
 number of a retired soldier, like himself, that a distin¬ 
 guished member of the division commander’s staff was 
 likely to come to town in the course of the month, and 
 was eager to meet him, and so had dropped him a line 
 to be sure and call him up at the club when he arrived. 
 X. dropped his work, boarded a car, and shot down¬ 
 town. Colonel Bbbbleton hadn’t returned, said the 
 steward, but he was so particularly anxious to see Mr. 
 X. that he had telephoned. A full hour did X. wait, and 
 then the gentleman came,—a total stranger. 
 
 “ Oh ! Is this Captain X. ? I am Colonel B-, of 
 
 the Mulligan Mound Military Academy, Illinois. I pro- 
 
THE ADVANTAGES OF ONE’S OWN WORKSHOP. 197 
 
 pose bringing my cadets up here for a parade next week, 
 and I had heard of you as one of the military men 
 hereabouts, and thought you might be able to tell me 
 where I’d find a drummer who wouldn’t charge me too 
 much.” 
 
 Mr. X. told him, and went back to his den, wondering 
 what some colonels were made of. 
 
 “ O for a lodge in some vast wilderness!” It took 
 four months instead of four weeks to finish “ Dunraven,” 
 and it well-nigh finished the writer. But that was some¬ 
 thing our readers could perhaps have borne with equa¬ 
 nimity. 
 
TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 HOW WE ELECTED THE MAYOR OF OGLE¬ 
 THORPE. 
 
 Never mind the real name of the place ; it is just possi¬ 
 ble that the State Central Committee might not care to 
 have the story brought home to them, even after the 
 lapse of so many years. They certainly were not over¬ 
 anxious to have it spread broadcast throughout the land 
 at the time, although the individual members derived no 
 end of comfort from the incident, and there was much 
 poking of one another in the ribs and exploding into guf¬ 
 faws of delighted laughter, and sudden cessation thereof 
 and straightening of faces into an expression of preter¬ 
 natural gravity and innocence when certain of the oppo¬ 
 sition happened to come around the corner. It was long 
 after the trying days of the reconstruction period, and 
 the army had been relieved from its detested duty of 
 “supervising” elections in the Sunny South; but it was 
 before the resumption of Democratic supremacy through¬ 
 out the cotton-growing States, and when in some, even 
 many, parishes or counties the colored voters still out¬ 
 numbered the whites as many as twenty to one, and the 
 nominees of the lately-enfranchised were cock-sure of 
 election, provided their constituents exercised the right 
 of suffrage. There were districts in the South where the 
 so-called shot-gun policy had dissuaded many darkies 
 from attendance at the polls. There were towns and 
 
HOW WE ELECTED THE MAYOR OF OGLETHORPE. 1 99 
 
 cities where blacks and whites were nearly balanced in 
 point of numbers, and where, as a consequence, they 
 were almost solidly arrayed one against the other; and 
 the question at issue was not whether a Republican or a 
 Democrat would be chosen, but whether the white or the 
 black man was to “ rule the roast” in that community. 
 
 And this was practically the situation at Oglethorpe in 
 the lovely autumn of 188-. Counting in the suburbs of 
 Congo Creek and Ashantiville, the population of the old 
 Southern city was not far from sixty thousand. Leaving 
 out these charming settlements, the number of souls in 
 the city proper was probably forty-five thousand, with the 
 preponderance in favor of the whites; but, leaving out 
 the city proper and counting only the suburbs, no whites 
 could be found among the residents, except within the 
 walls of the lunatic asylum, which stood close by the 
 river-bank and within the confines of Ashantiville, yet 
 somewhat removed from touch with its thronging hovels. 
 Possibly it was a shrewd appreciation of the political 
 opportunities thus presented which had prompted the 
 Legislature, in the days of what the local press termed 
 “ Senegambian supremacy,” to decree that these two sub¬ 
 urban villages, with their teeming, moss-grown old 
 quarters, should be attached to the city proper; not that 
 any perceptible increase in the municipal revenue would 
 result thereby (indeed, the opposite effect was noted from 
 the start), but that the intelligence and patriotism of 
 Congo Creek and Ashantiville might be brought to bear 
 upon all important questions arising in the town, espe¬ 
 cially in the biennial election of mayor and councilmen. 
 
 Little by little as the personal complexion of the Legis¬ 
 lature had changed from the all-pervading black of the 
 
200 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 early ’yo’s to the general Caucasian white of the early 
 ’8o’s, so, too, had the political hue undergone transfor¬ 
 mation from radical Republicanism to a very evenly mot¬ 
 tled House, and a Senate in which the Caucasian rejoiced 
 in a majority of two. Those modern distractions of 
 Northern politics embraced under the heads of Labor and 
 Prohibition parties were unknown to Oglethorpe. There 
 were but two factions in the field, and when the Demo¬ 
 cratic Central Committee began to look the ground over 
 and prepare for the fall elections of 188-, hope died in 
 their bosoms, for the metropolis of their fertile State 
 seemed to be more densely populated with presumable 
 Republicans than at any time in its previous history. It 
 was to be a most important election for Oglethorpe. The 
 city credit had suffered severely in the past. The 
 “ carpet-bag” mayors and councilmen had run things to 
 suit themselves, greatly to the detriment of the 
 merchants, property-owners, and responsible citizens of 
 the once beautiful and attractive town. Matters had been 
 going from bad to worse, and at last the representative 
 men of the neighborhood arose in their might and de¬ 
 clared that now the time had come to call a halt. The 
 Legislature could not be induced, as yet, to undo the old 
 act and divest Oglethorpe of those parasitical suburbs. 
 Indeed, there was ground for the belief that certain legis¬ 
 lators, whose seats were insecure, were conniving at an 
 active scheme of colonization, and that swarms of negroes 
 who had no earthly chance of voting across the borders 
 of “ a remarkably neighboring State,” where the shot-gun 
 policy obtained in full force, were now descending upon 
 Congo Creek and Ashantiville, and who the dickens 
 could distinguish them, either in feature or statement, 
 
HOW WE ELECTED THE MAYOR OF OGLETHORPE. 201 
 
 from the duly-qualified electors of the Oglethorpe dis¬ 
 trict? Active canvassers assured the Democratic Central 
 Committee that the adult male population of the out¬ 
 skirts had nearly doubled in three weeks. The day of 
 registration had come, but that of redemption looked 
 farther off than ever. One of the most irreclaimable 
 scalawags on earth had been nominated by accla¬ 
 mation as the candidate of the “ carpet-bag” party for 
 mayor, and a dozen lively Ethiopians had been selected 
 to run for the common council. On the other hand, 
 the white citizens, who were permanent residents, had, 
 irrespective of party, named good old Judge Fournier as 
 their standard-bearer, and had issued a fervent appeal to 
 all good men, white or black, to vote for this incor¬ 
 ruptible gentleman and statesman, and to down the 
 Hebrew importation who had bought, as was well 
 known, the nomination of the convention. 
 
 But if the committee felt blue and discouraged before 
 the completion of the registration, they were well-nigh 
 hopeless after it. Congo Creek, Ashantiville, and a few 
 colored districts in town showed an increase of nearly 
 two thousand duly-qualified electors over the rolls of two 
 years back, and every mother’s son of them was ready to 
 swear he had lived there over eighteen months and pro¬ 
 posed to make Oglethorpe his home. Under existing 
 laws the Democrats on the board of registration had to 
 content themselves with verbal expressions of doubt and 
 derision: they could not interfere. 
 
 “ No, suh,” said Major Carter, or, as he called him¬ 
 self, “ Cyahtah,” one of the leading Democrats on the 
 board, “ it’s no use kicking against the pricks. We can’t 
 prove what we believe, and the way things look now 
 
202 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 these confounded niggahs will outvote us about two to 
 one in all but four wards, and the judge will be swamped. 
 I tell you, gentlemen, if that infernal Jew is elected 
 mayor of this city I’m going to quit.” 
 
 “ Ain’t there no way of persuading them to vote the 
 right way or else have business elsewhere, like they do 
 over across the line ?” asked Captain Beaufort, who pre¬ 
 ferred the vernacular of his people to the King’s English 
 of any other section; and he jerked his head backward 
 to indicate that he meant the “ remarkably neighboring 
 State” aforementioned. 
 
 “ N-no, suh; we tried something of that kind six years 
 ago, and got the federal government down on us in less’n 
 no time. N-no, suh; we can’t afford anything like in¬ 
 timidation. And no power on earth can prevail with 
 those benighted creatures against the statements of such 
 infernal scalawags as are their political file-leaders.” 
 
 “Well, can’t they be bought?—the leaders, I mean?” 
 
 “ Dassent try it, suh. You see you have to buy up 
 the whole gang, for if you leave one out he peaches on 
 the others, and then the whole election is thrown out. 
 There ain’t money enough in sight to buy more than a 
 dozen of them, and that wouldn’t do at all. N-no, suh, 
 we can’t beat and we can’t bribe; I’m blessed if I know 
 what we can do.” 
 
 “ Registration all perfectly regular ?” 
 
 “Yes, suh. And every niggah in Oglethorpe and a 
 whole raft from outside have got their registration papers, 
 while some of our people wouldn’t register at all. Said 
 ’twas no earthly use, and I reckon they’re pretty near 
 right.” 
 
 Mr. Alfred Forno, a high-bred, handsome young fellow 
 
HOW WE ELECTED THE MAYOR OF OGLETHORPE. 203 
 
 of twenty-six or seven, who had sat a silent listener, 
 put forth his hand at this juncture, took up one of the 
 registration blanks from a pile lying on the table, and 
 curiously studied it, whistling softly to himself as he did 
 so. It was a stiff card about four by two inches in size 
 and bore a printed legend to the effect that the bearer, 
 
 “..., of number_,.street, age.years 
 
 . months, was duly registered at the office of the 
 
 . precinct, . ward of the city of Oglethorpe, on 
 
 the . day of October, and will be entitled to vote at 
 
 the polling place of said precinct, said ward, on Tuesday, 
 
 November 3, 188., on personal presentation of this 
 
 certificate.” 
 
 Mr. Fomo, still softly whistling, turned this card over 
 and over in his long slender fingers, gazing dreamily 
 through the smoke of his cigarette at a highly-colored 
 poster on the opposite wall. Finally, he arose and began 
 more attentively to study the poster, carelessly tossing 
 the blank registration card back upon the table. Major 
 Carter and his friend, the captain, meantime contin¬ 
 ued their despondent chat. After a while, Mr. Forno 
 turned. 
 
 “ Every niggah got one of these hyuh things ?” he 
 queried. 
 
 “ Every adult male and not a few legal infants, suh,” 
 was the answer. “ But who could swear to a niggah’s 
 age ? I reckon there’s a raft of boys not more’n eighteen 
 that are entitled to vote by the fiat of that board” (he 
 called it bode , but the reader might not know what on 
 earth he meant). “Everyman who votes has to hand 
 in his registration certificate when he tenders his ballet; 
 that’s our law over hyuh. How is it in Alabama?” 
 
204 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 “ Well- 1 , we haven’t got quite so methodical as yet,” 
 answered Mr. Forno, with a quiet smile. “ Our system 
 is simpler and somewhat more elastic. Now you’ve 
 got just three weeks in which to meet this situation, 
 as I understand it. Can’t you see any way out of the 
 trouble ?” 
 
 “Not a vestige of a show, suh. Why? Do you?” 
 And Carter looked up with sudden hope and interest; 
 so did Beaufort; so did one or two gentlemen who had 
 been silent, but despondent, listeners. They all knew 
 Forno. He was already a distinguished man in the legal 
 profession, and his fame had carried him on many a 
 mission beyond the borders of his own State. 
 
 “ Possibly,” he answered. 
 
 “ No intimidation; no hoodoo business; no bribery 
 and corruption; all fair and above-board, Fawno ?” 
 
 “ Perfectly.” 
 
 “ Well, I just tell you, suh, that Oglethorpe will build 
 a monument in your honor if you’ll just show us how 
 to get out of this fix.” 
 
 “ What majority does the registration indicate as prob¬ 
 able ?” 
 
 “ Not a head less than twenty-four hundred,—all nig- 
 gahs, suh, with more coming.” 
 
 “ Well, now, does every one of these hyuh fellows 
 hold his own registration certificate,—this sort of thing, 
 I mean?” And Mr. Forno picked up the card again. 
 “ Or are they held by the ward bosses?” 
 
 “ There are two or three precincts where the bosses 
 have them, out there in ’Shantyville and Congo particu¬ 
 larly ; but we bluffed that game in town. Out there of 
 cose there’s no use trying. The cyahpet-bag bosses just 
 
HOW WE ELECTED THE MAYOR OF OGLETHORPE. 20$ 
 
 run things to suit themselves. They march their mokes 
 up to the polls in single file and give each man his ticket 
 and his cyahd as it comes his tuhn to vote. No, suh; 
 hyuh in town we insisted that the cyahd should be 
 handed to the ownah and nobody else.” 
 
 Mr. Forno whistled softly to himself a moment. 
 
 “ What’s to prevent one of those bosses getting a 
 winning ticket in the Louisiana lottery next week, and 
 being given money enough to go to N’yohleans to 
 collect?” 
 
 “ Well, how is that going to help ?” 
 
 “In this way: he won’t be able to collect; he won’t 
 have money to get back with, and you can start some 
 likely niggahs from town up to Congo and ’Shantiville 
 with the story that he was bought up, certificates and all, 
 and now they wouldn’t be able to vote unless they could 
 get their papers back from the other bosses. It would 
 go like wildfire. Everybody knows they’re the most 
 credulous people on the face of the globe.” 
 
 “ But it seems to me, Mr. Fawno, ’twould be easier to 
 get those certificates away from the bosses, if that’s your 
 game, than it would be to induce each individual coon 
 to lose his.” 
 
 “ That depends, major, on how much campaign fund 
 you’ve got, or can raise. How much have you ?” 
 
 “ Well, we can easily make it five thousand for a sure 
 thing, but at this moment we haven’t more than two 
 thousand left.” 
 
 “ Then take my advice. Invest fifty dollars, or a little 
 more, perhaps, in sending one of those Congo bosses 
 off to Nyohleans to collect a five-thousand-dollar prize. 
 Start the suburbs, in about ten days or so, on a raid 
 
20 6 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 upon the other bosses to get personal possession of their 
 certificates. They’re all regularly stamped and num¬ 
 bered and have corresponding stubs in the registration 
 office books, haven’t they ?” 
 
 “ Yes, suh, of cose.” 
 
 “All right, then. You just see that as much as pos¬ 
 sible every colored voter in Oglethorpe has his own 
 cyahd by the 25th of this month; and have, say, four 
 thousand dollars ready. It won’t take that much, prob¬ 
 ably, but I want to be sure of being able to carry out 
 my promise. And I’ll bet you the best dinner Victor 
 can lay out next Mardi Gras—a dinner for ten—that 
 Judge Fournier is elected.” 
 
 “ Done, suh ! done! and make it for fifteen, and I’ll be 
 overjoyed to lose,” exclaimed Major Carter, excitedly. 
 “ But, you must excuse me now, Mr. Fawno ; I’m blessed 
 if I can see how you’ll do it,—that is, awnestly.” 
 
 “ I give you my word, major, that there will be no 
 intimidation, no influence brought to bear other than the 
 personal predilection of the citizen of African descent. 
 He shall be a free agent in the matter. Is it a bet?” 
 
 “ Of cose it is, suh, of cose it is; anything you 
 say.” 
 
 And that night, having finished his business in Ogle¬ 
 thorpe, Mr. Forno journeyed back to Montgomery. 
 
 Somewhere about the middle of the next week the 
 Hon. Alphonse Beaudet, recently member of the Legis¬ 
 lature for the third assembly district in Oglethorpe, a 
 colored gentleman of considerable pretensions as an 
 orator and moderate ability as a barber, a leader among 
 his kind, and the holder of some four hundred registra¬ 
 tion certificates, suddenly left Oglethorpe. Indeed, it 
 
HOW WE ELECTED THE MAYOR OF OGLETHORPE. 207 
 
 may be said, he secretly left, for Mr. Beaudet was a man 
 of refined, if not extravagant, tastes. He had been a 
 body-servant in the halcyon days of Southern supremacy 
 in Congress before the war; had become imbued with 
 many of the traits and fancies of his master; and his 
 fondness for purple, fine linen, and the flesh-pots of 
 Egypt was accompanied by a lack of collateral with 
 which to defray expenses. In fact, despite Mr. Beaudet’s 
 personal, professional, and oratorical graces, he was a 
 marked man in the community, so much so that had it 
 been known that he contemplated removal, even tempo¬ 
 rarily, from the limits of Oglethorpe the resultant ne 
 exeats would have made up in numbers and energy all 
 they might lack of legal existence. There was not a 
 colored shopkeeper, there were few tailors, hatters, shoe¬ 
 makers, haberdashers, whose books were not graced by 
 the accounts of the Hon. Mr. Beaudet when he was most 
 prominent and looked upon as a permanency in the 
 Legislature of the State of his nativity. But politics has 
 its ups and downs like everything else, and Beaudet had no 
 more successfully “called the turn” in 188- than he had 
 at faro the previous year. “ Craps” he never descended 
 to until after the reverses to which allusion has been 
 made; “ craps” and the barber-shop came in together; 
 “ craps” and the Louisiana lottery swallowed the earnings 
 of the shop, which were fair,—much fairer than the games 
 he played. Beaudet was on his last legs financially and 
 politically, when one afternoon there strolled in a Mr. 
 Sullivan, a young Irishman well known in convivial and 
 political circles; and Mr. Sullivan ostensibly came for a 
 shave. Casually, however, he drew forth and began 
 studying a slip on which was printed what purported to 
 
208 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 be the winning numbers of the monthly drawing of the 
 Louisiana lottery. This instantly attracted the operator’s 
 attention. 
 
 “ Draw anything, suh?” queried the orator barber, in 
 his blandest manner. 
 
 “ No, d—n it! Beaudet, I never do. I’ve been buy¬ 
 ing for years,—never pulled a cent yet. I had a chance, 
 too. Old Sweeny down here tells me he had two of the 
 winning numbers in his shop and sold ’em both. The 
 lists have just reached him; this is one of ’em. One 
 ticket he sold drew five thousand dollars, the other an 
 approximation prize. He can’t for the life of him think 
 who bought ’em, and he’s trying hard to get hold of ’em 
 now so’s to buy ’em back, you know, before the fellow 
 finds out what a prize he holds.” 
 
 “ What number won the five thousand dollars ?” asked 
 Beaudet, with trembling lips. 
 
 “ No. 43,787,” answered Sullivan, referring to his list. 
 “ D—n it, man ! Look out, you’ll cut me !” 
 
 “ My Lawd! Mr. Sullivan, I beg pardon, suh,—it’s, it’s 
 only a scratch. My Lawd! Y-you sure ’bout that 
 number? Let me just look.” 
 
 “ Sure ? Course I am! Why, you lucky dog ! have 
 
 » _ 
 
 you got that number? Sh! Don’t let a soul know, 
 Beaudet, for they’ll be down on you in a minute. Here! 
 don’t, don’t sell it at a discount here. You take my 
 advice; you go right on to Orleans and collect it.” 
 
 “ My God, suh ! I—I—I’d just like to go, but I ain’t 
 got a cent, Mr. Sullivan,—not a cent, suh ! I’d—I’d be 
 willing to pay mighty handsome for just enough money 
 to take me there.” And Beaudet looked appealingly in 
 his customer’s face, while big drops of sweat started out 
 
HOW WE ELECTED THE MAYOR OF OGLETHORPE. 209 
 
 on his yellow-brown forehead. “ Hyuh, suh, hyuh’s my 
 ticket. Ain’t that the number ?” 
 
 " Right enough, Beaudet! Gad, sir, you ought to 
 make sure of that! Ton my word, I’ve a good mind 
 
 “ Oh, if you only would, Mr. Sullivan, I—I—I’d do 
 most anything for you.” 
 
 “Well, you’d have to sneak off, Beaudet. Those cred¬ 
 itors of yours are legion. If they found out that you’d 
 won a prize they’d suck you dry. You’ve just got to 
 gather it in, bank it over there or at Mobile, then come 
 back here without a word to anybody, pay off each man 
 so much and promise the rest. Why, it would set you 
 all right again, wouldn’t it ? Er—when could you 
 go?” 
 
 “ Go to-night, fust train, suh, if I only had thirty or 
 forty dollars, enough to take me on to N’yohleans. I’d 
 pay it right back, Mr. Sullivan, ’deed I would, and more 
 too; I’d give a hundred for fifty.” 
 
 “ Pshaw! I’m no Jew. You’re a pretty decent sort of 
 a nigger, Beaudet, if you’d only let politics alone. Now, 
 if you’ll swear not to tell a soul that you are going, I’ll 
 tell you what I’ll do: I’ll have a ticket to New Orleans 
 all ready for you at the depot at eight to-night and ten 
 dollars for expenses. It won’t do for you to buy the 
 ticket; that would give you dead away, see ? Don’t take 
 any baggage. Better leave your watch here, too. 
 Perhaps I ought to have that,—I need security of some 
 kind in case of an accident to you.” 
 
 And Beaudet only too eagerly assented to everything. 
 That night he was whirling away over the rice-fields, too 
 excited to sleep. 
 
 18* 
 
 0 
 
210 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 A week, ten days, passed by. Beaudet failed to re¬ 
 turn, and all manner of stories were in circulation in the 
 suburbs. Fiery meetings were being held by the negroes, 
 and they were making furious demands upon the bosses 
 for personal possession of their registration cards. Mat¬ 
 ters came to a climax on Sunday, the 25th of October. 
 That night Major Carter wired Mr. Forno, at Mont¬ 
 gomery, that the voters of Ashantiville and Congo 
 had overwhelmed the bosses and obtained their cards. 
 “ Four thousand ready” was the significant close of the 
 dispatch. 
 
 Meantime, Mr. Forno had not been idle. A big “ tent 
 show” had been " marching through Georgia” in Sep¬ 
 tember, and then, having exhibited in Alabama, and 
 being billed at Augusta, was bound thence to Aiken, 
 Lexington, Columbia, Spartanburgh, etc. Advance 
 agents were already preparing to “ paper” the rural dis¬ 
 tricts adjoining those lovely old Southern towns, when 
 they were called off by telegraph and ordered to concen¬ 
 trate forthwith at Oglethorpe. All Tuesday night the 
 paste-brushes were flying, and on Wednesday morning 
 Oglethorpe—suburbs and all—was ablaze with highly- 
 colored posters, big as a barn-door, full of illustrations 
 of acrobats, ground and lofty tumbling, magnificent feats 
 of horsemanship, daring trapeze acts, bewilderingly beau¬ 
 tiful equestriennes, georgeous cream-colored chargers, 
 trick ponies and mules by the dozen, and—O joy to the 
 colored heart!—a big brass band and three talented 
 clowns. All Wednesday, all Thursday, all Friday, all 
 impatience the thronging colored colonies of Oglethorpe 
 flocked about these posters, with bulging, wistful eyes 
 and watering mouths. “ Two grand performances only, 
 
HOW WE ELECTED THE MAYOR OF OGLETHORPE. 21 1 
 
 to be preceded by a street procession Saturday morning. 
 Two grand performances Saturday afternoon and even¬ 
 ing. Admission for adults, with reserved seats, one 
 dollar. General admission, seventy-five cents. Children, 
 fifty cents.” 
 
 “The management, yielding to the solicitation of 
 prominent citizens of Oglethorpe, has at great expense 
 cancelled its dates in the interior in order that it may pre¬ 
 sent to its host of friends in the metropolis of the South¬ 
 eastern States its coruscation of new, daring, bewildering 
 stars now embraced in the catalogue of its unparalleled 
 attractions. But in view of the heavy cost involved in so 
 sudden a change of plans, the management is compelled 
 to raise, for this occasion only , the scale of prices. Elegant 
 and commodious accommodations will be provided for 
 all, but the customary twenty-five-cent admission, 
 hitherto accorded the colored populace, is reluctantly 
 withdrawn.” 
 
 As not one darky in a dozen among the inhabitants 
 of Congo and Ashantiville had so much as a quarter, 
 this really made little difference. What did make it 
 hard was the fact that while he might possibly earn a 
 quarter ’twixt now and Saturday, it was only by extra 
 hard work that he could hope to get seventy-five cents, 
 and extra hard work was something not to be thought 
 of. Then, too, what good was a circus without a quarter 
 for whisky and “ goobers” ? It was hard lines on the 
 colored folks, and their orators made the most of it in 
 the big meetings held Wednesday and Thursday nights. 
 Here was a manifest effort to deprive the poor"colored 
 man of his rights. Here was outrageous oppression 
 and wrong on the part of the whites. Things looked 
 
212 
 
 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 almost like a riot, especially when it began to be spread 
 abroad among the colored folks that never, never had 
 there been seen such a circus in the South. It was the 
 finest thing going. All day they swarmed in front of 
 the blazing posters. All Friday night hundreds of men, 
 women, and children hung about the big square while 
 the tents were being pitched and the wagons came trun¬ 
 dling in; and then, when Saturday morning dawned, 
 Congo Creek and Ashantiville streamed into the broad 
 thoroughfares of the city. During the parade the band, 
 in its lofty gilded chariot, was surrounded by a thousand 
 enthusiastic blacks; the banquette was jammed with 
 eager black faces, with shining white teeth. The pro¬ 
 cession was the finest ever seen of the kind in Ogle¬ 
 thorpe, and there was not a moke in all the metropolis 
 who wouldn’t have bartered his pet hoodoo charm for a 
 ticket, when a strange rumor began to fly from lip to lip, 
 —a new announcement. 
 
 “ The management, unwilling to deprive so large and 
 intelligent a body of citizens of the opportunity of wit¬ 
 nessing this transcendently beautiful performance, has, 
 at the last moment, decided to place on sale single 
 tickets admitting one colored gentleman and lady at the 
 greatly reduced price of one dollar,—a concession not 
 accorded to any citizens except those of color. Gentle 
 manly agents will immediately appear upon the streets 
 to personally see to it that our colored friends have every 
 opportunity of purchasing.” 
 
 Fifteen minutes later a still wilder rumor was afloat, 
 and Congo Creek and Ashantiville were racing up one 
 another’s heels in frantic haste to reach those agents. 
 
 Any gentleman temporarily out of funds will be provided 
 
HOW WE ELECTED THE MAYOR OF OGLETHORPE. 213 
 
 with one of these tickets on depositing as security his regis¬ 
 tration card .” 
 
 Few white folks appeared at those magnificent per¬ 
 formances either Saturday afternoon or evening. They 
 couldn’t get within a hundred yards of the entrance if 
 they tried ; but they didn’t try. Congo Creek, Ashanti- 
 ville, and the colored precincts of Oglethorpe were on 
 the ground in overwhelming numbers. The big tent 
 could hardly hold the solid masses of dusky humanity. 
 The performances went off with much eclat. The throng 
 slowly drifted forth as the last act was finished and the 
 canvas began to be lowered over their very heads; and 
 while the circus men packed their wagons and “ folded 
 their tents like the Arabs,” the management slid over to 
 the Jasper House, where Major Carter and a friend or 
 two were sipping Clicquot in a private room. Two 
 satchels of dingy, malodorous, but valuable registration 
 cards were dumped upon a table and gingerly counted. 
 Two fat wads of greenbacks were popped into those bags 
 in their stead. The management drank to the success 
 of the State Central Committee, and, slyly winking, 
 departed. 
 
 There was frantic raving among the orators of 
 Ashantiville at the meetings of Sunday and Monday 
 nights, in which Mr. Beaudet, just back from a freight- 
 car trip from New Orleans, took prominent part. And 
 when the polls were opened Tuesday at sunrise, the 
 inspectors of election sorrowfully shook their heads 
 when man after man poked an anxious black face into 
 the window, protesting he “ done lost his cyahd” and 
 wanted to vote all the same. The books, he pleaded, 
 proved that he was registered. It was all useless. It 
 
214 TRIALS OF A STAFF-OFFICER. 
 
 might be allowed, said the inspectors, “ if it weren’t for 
 the law.” 
 
 Judge Fournier was triumphantly chosen by a majority 
 of three thousand over his Hebrew competitor, and at 
 Major Carter’s dinner at Victor’s next Mardi Gras there 
 was a shout of laughter when the story was told of 
 u How we elected the Mayor of Oglethorpe.” 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia. 
 
Molesworth. 
 
 By Mrs. 
 
 Philippa. 
 
 Illustrated. i2mo. Cloth, $1.25. 
 
 “ Mrs. Molesworth’s books are always interesting, particularly to girls, Thi* 
 story tells of the adventures of a young girl, Philippa, who, in the capacity of a 
 lady’s maid, accompanies her married sister on a visit to the latter’s connections by 
 marriage. Many complications ensue, which are graphically told .”—Norristown 
 Herald . 
 
 Olivia. 
 
 Illustrated. i2mo. Cloth, $1.25. 
 
 " The girls everywhere will gratefully thank Mrs. Molesworth for giving them 
 this pure, unconstrained, sympathy-moving story of one of their own age and ex¬ 
 perience, to whom their hearts will go out warmly as they conclude their pleasant 
 reading of her creation .”—Boston Courier. 
 
 Meg Langholme. 
 
 Illustrated. l2mo. Cloth, $1.25. 
 
 “ It is the story of a girl’s life from babyhood to her marriage with a sweetheart 
 who comes home from India just in time to rescue her from a great peril. It is 
 thoroughly healthy in tone, and is a charming mingling of romance and realism." 
 —New Haven Journal-Courier. 
 
 Molesworth Library for Girls. 
 
 Olivia. Meg Langholme. Philippa. 
 
 3 volumes. Illustrated. i2mo. Cloth, $3.75. 
 
 “ This author wins her host of readers through her evident desire to place them 
 in immediate touch with the plans, the secrets, the hopes, and the fears of her in¬ 
 imitable characterizations, and to make them, at least, cognizant of every mystery, 
 if there be any, that surrounds the personale of her stories. Her art as a story- 
 writer is not emphasized by any subterfuge, but one perceives, with every step, her 
 skill, and the wholesome design invariably in view .’’—Boston Courier. 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA 
 
By Joseph Hatton 
 
 The Vicar. 
 
 l2mo. Cloth, $1.25. 
 
 When Greek Meets Greek. 
 
 A Tale of Love and War. With ten full-page illustrations by B. 
 West Clinedinst. Large i2mo. Cloth extra, #1.50. 
 
 New Edition. Paper, 50 cents. 
 
 “ The present story is one that is calculated to stir the deepest feelings that 
 enter into human experience. It is of the masterly order, and therefore will confi¬ 
 dently command readers even while inviting them.”— Boston Courier. 
 
 “ Joseph Hatton has written many successful volumes of incident, but in none 
 of them has he given us a more stirring romance than in his latest novel, ‘ When 
 Greek Meets Greek.’ The characters are drawn with a skilful hand, and the 
 scenes follow each other in rapid succession, each teeming with interest and vigor.” 
 —Boston Advertiser. 
 
 The Banishment of Jessop Blythe. 
 
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 paper, 50 cents. 
 
 “ It is one of the strongest stories of the year, remarkably graphic in its de¬ 
 scriptions of the wild and wonderful scenery amidst which its action is located, 
 and equally remarkable for the character drawing of the real men and women who 
 figure in it.”— Boston Home Journal. 
 
 “ The author has depicted clearly a true socialistic organization on a small 
 scale, which seems as though it might have been founded on fact. It is a strong 
 story, extremely well told, and will attract attention as much for its socialistic ideas 
 as for its romantic features.”— San Francisco Chronicle. 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA 
 
By Amy E. Blanchard 
 
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 “ The title indicates its character—the story of the lives of two girls. They 
 are girls of entirely different temperament, and the lessons deducted from their 
 respective experiences, and the manner in which each met the daily troubles and 
 tribulations of early life, make the book one of more than ordinary importance to 
 the young.”— St. Paul Dispatch. 
 
 Girls Together. 
 
 With illustrations by Ida Waugh. l2mo. Cloth, $1.25. 
 
 “ Here is a story so realistic, detailed, and full of youthful sentiment and en¬ 
 thusiasm that it must be one of the pieces of literary work which seem ‘ easy’ but 
 are in reality so difficult to achieve .”—Portland Press. 
 
 Three Pretty Maids. 
 
 With illustrations by Alice Barber Stephens. i2mo. Cloth, $1.25. 
 
 “ It is the story of three sisters, their school life, their friends, their pleasures 
 and their disappointments .”—Literary Review, Boston. 
 
 Blanchard Library for Girls. 
 
 Two Girls. Girls Together. Betty of Wye. 
 Three Pretty Maids. An Independent Daughter. 
 
 5 volumes in a box. Illustrated. Cloth, $6.25. 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA. 
 
By S. Baring-Gould. 
 
 Richard Cable, the Lightshipman. 
 
 I2mo. Cloth, $1.00. 
 
 The Queen of Love. 
 
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 The Gaverocks. 
 
 i2mo. Cloth, $1.00. 
 
 Court Royal: A Story of Cross-Currents. 
 
 i2mo. Cloth, $1.00. 
 
 Guavas the Tinner. 
 
 l2mo. Illustrated. Paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 “ There is a kind of flavor about this book which alone elevates it far above 
 the ordinary novel, quite apart from any particular merit in the story. The curious 
 aloofness of these miners from the generality of English people, and the con¬ 
 vincing manner in which the author throws the reader amongst them and makes 
 them perfectly natural, perhaps account for this flavor of plausible singularity; 
 but it is a hard task to define it. The story itself has a grandeur in harmony with 
 the wild and rugged scenery which is its setting. Isolt, with her cold and passion¬ 
 ate nature, is a most haunting figure, and her mysterious appearances are very 
 dramatic. The hero in a different way is equally fine,—distinguished by a silence 
 at once pathetic and magnificent .”—London Atheneaum . 
 
 ]. B. LIPP1NC0TT COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA 
 
By Louis Becke. 
 
 “ In this most attractive series of stories of a quarter of the planet’s surface are 
 to be got such delights as go with life even before literature. They fascinate even 
 when they excite, and soothe and narcotize in the communication of their subtle 
 power. The author is himself mentally steeped in the softened colorings of the 
 life he so deliciously depicts. It is like finding a coveted rest to yield the force* 
 of the imagination to the rythmical flow of his skilfully arranged narratives.”— 
 Boston Courrier. 
 
 The Boat-Steerer, and Other Stories. 
 
 l2mo. Cloth, gilt top, $1.50. 
 
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 vein, and appear to be serious pictures of real life throughout .”—Boston Courier. 
 
 His Native Wife. 
 
 l6mo. Illustrated. Polished buckram, 75 cents. 
 
 “ * His Native Wife’ is a masterly sketch, in which a native woman gains her 
 revenge upon a white woman for attempting to steal away the love of her English 
 husband .”—Boston Courier . 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA 
 
By Mrs. 
 
 Lindon W. Bates. 
 
 Bunch-Grass Stories. 
 
 i2mo. Cloth, $1.25. 
 
 There is uncommon freshness, like a wind from the wide plains, 
 in these tales called Bunch - Grass Stories. They are the work of a 
 writer who observes and seizes the picturesque traits in every land 
 where fortune happens to call her, and her travels have evidently 
 been many and far away. She has, likewise, much reading, which 
 she puts to good account in stories that impart the ring of truth to 
 classic episodes. 
 
 A Blind Lead. 
 
 Thie Story of a Mine. 
 l2mo. Cloth, $1.25. 
 
 “ ‘ A Blind Lead’ is certainly a powerful book. We took it up indifferently 
 enough, but we had read a few pages only before we found it was no ordinary 
 work by no ordinary writer. A good deal of skill is shown in the drawing of char¬ 
 acter. There are no dull pages, and the interest is continuous from the first chapter 
 to the last ."—Boston Advertiser, 
 
 A Nameless Wrestler. 
 
 l 2 mo. Paper, 50 cents; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 “ Her story, ' A Blind Lead/ was very promising, and it is followed by a* 
 extremely interesting tale, ‘A Nameless Wrestler.’ Here is something outside the 
 hackneyed course of fiction—fresh, strong, fascinating, dramatic, and wholesome— 
 scenes laid in an unfamiliar country, though our own, and characters human enough 
 to be all the more interesting because touched with strange traits by virtue of en¬ 
 vironment ."—Detroit Tribune. 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT, COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA.