CAMP LIFE.
TOOT-TOOO! went the whistle of the steamboat "Mattano." "All aboard!"
yelled the captain, and all aboard it was for the Dashahed Zouaves, and
ever so many people beside, who, you may be sure, were all eyes when
they found out that such a _killing_ regiment was going down with them.
"Good-by, my boy," called Mr. Jourdain (who had followed the march in a
stage) from the wharf.
"Good-by, father; I say, old Beauregard will have to keep his eyes open
now the Dashahed Zouaves are in the field!" and Freddy waved his cap in
one hand and his sword in the other to his father, as long as he could
see him.
In a few moments the boat was fairly out from the wharf, and the whole
regiment comfortably seated on the promenade deck; very proud of their
new responsibilities as members of the army and society generally, and
surrounded by a crowd of admirers.
"Jolly, ain't I hungry!" exclaimed Freddy, as he joined them; "I went
off with hardly any breakfast, I declare! wasn't that noble?"
"Noble? I don't see it!" said Charley Spicer. "Nobody asked you to go
without your breakfast!"
"Why, wasn't I in a hurry to serve my country? When I was so full of
glory, I couldn't stop to get full of beefsteak and coffee beside!"
"Never mind!" cried Harry Livingston, "I have some sandwiches in my
knapsack, and you shall have some, Fred."
"Have you? there's six big apples in mine," said Charley.
"Here's a quart of peanuts and half a pound of taffy for my share,"
added Jimmy Boorman.
"And I've a pair of broiled spring chickens! high diddle-diddle!"
shouted George.
"Good boy!" exclaimed Tom Pringle; "here, take my molasses and water
bottle--canteen, I mean, and pass round the tin plate for the Colonel!"
Amid high glee, every one bestowed a part of his provisions on Freddy
until a sufficiently motley meal was collected; half of which he
immediately offered again to his companions, who, of course, were quite
ready to feel hungry too, and they all munched together, like a company
of gypsies.
"I say, Capting," said a tall Yankee in a fur hat, to Peter, "what may
yew calculate dewing on Long Island?"
"Why, we're going into camp, to be sure."
"Lors-a-massy! them air boys all alone by theirselves!" exclaimed an
old countrywoman, carrying a large market basket, and wearing a great
pair of brass-rimmed spectacles. "It beats all natur!"
"Yew ha'n't got no one to look arter you?" continued the tall Yankee.
"Certainly; here's our commanding officer, Col. Jourdain."
"Let me present Mr. ----," added Freddy, full of laugh, and highly
enjoying the fun.
"Captin George Washington Kosciusko Peter Bonaparte Solomon Hopkins!"
said the countryman, with an awkward bow; while the boys hardly dared to
look at each other, they were so afraid of bursting out laughing at his
ridiculous name. Its fortunate possessor, nothing abashed, went on,
"But dew tell, wha--at on airth _dew_ you call yourselves?"
"These, sir," replied Freddy, as grave as a judge, though his eyes
sparkled with fun, "are the famous Dashahed Zouaves, First Regiment Long
Island Volunteers; I am the Colonel, this is Major Schermerhorn,
Captains Spicer, Chadwick, Livingston, and Boorman, Sergeant Pringle,
and Adjutant Costar."
"Oh, _light infantry_ regiment, I calculate."
"No, sir, _heavy veterans_!" put in Will Costar.
"Wal I never!" exclaimed Captin George Washington Kosciusko Peter
Bonaparte Solomon Hopkins (here the boat touched the pier of the
Flushing Railroad); "Naow mind, Kurnel Jordan, if ever your regiment
comes to Hempstead, yeou put for Captin Hopkins' farm, and if yeou don't
get the biggest lot of red apples yeou ever _did_ see, I'll be made into
apple pie myself!" and off marched the Yankee, while the boys, as soon
as he was fairly out of sight, indulged rather ungratefully in an
explosion of laughter.
Presently the boat stopped at Ravenswood, and here the old woman got
off; but before she went, she took an immense shiny hunk of gingerbread
out of the great market basket, and bestowed it on Freddy, saying,
"Here, take this, sonny; you air a dear little fellow, so like my
Sammy, too"--and the poor old woman's voice broke, and tears began to
gather under the brass-bound spectacles, as she turned to leave the
boat.
Freddy put down his cake, and ran after her, saying, "Thank you, ma'am,
thank you very much; I am sorry you are distressed."
The old woman stopped, and saying softly, "Bless you, my son!" she
kissed the bright, rosy cheek, and went away quite comforted.
Freddy wasn't ashamed either, not a bit, when they teased him afterward,
but said, "I don't care, she's a real nice old thing; now, there!"
Soon the boat ran up to the wharf at Astoria. Delighted to arrive at
their journey's end, the boys scampered off as soon as the plank touched
the shore, and "formed" on the road in fine style.
"Goodness, Peter!" exclaimed Freddy, "I hope it's not very far to your
father's place; I'm afraid I shall be melted altogether if it is."
"Well, it _is_ a good way," began Peter, with rather a rueful face.
"So far that I intend to take you there in comfort," said a pleasant
voice close behind them.
"Oh, father," cried Peter (for it was Mr. Schermerhorn), "how kind of
you! Only look, boys!" and he pointed to two double rockaways which were
waiting on the pier.
In they all swarmed, managing to find places for everybody (and really,
it is surprising how a rockaway can _stretch_ on occasion), and after a
rapid drive along a level sandy road, the ha-ha fences of Mr.
Schermerhorn's splendid country seat, "Locust Grove," came in view. Soon
the carriages entered the beautiful rustic gate, its pillars surmounted
by vases, filled with trailing plants; and in a moment more were dashing
over the gravelled drive toward the western side of the place.
At one point, the road led directly over a deep ravine, spanned by a
bridge of rough logs. Then they whirled past a tranquil lake, dotted
with pond lilies, and shaded by drooping willows, through which might be
caught a glimpse of the tall white chimneys of the house. At last, with
a sudden bend, the drive came out on a wide velvet lawn, relieved by a
fringe of the beautiful locusts, covered, at this season of the year,
with the fragrant pinkish flowers. At some distance a quaint Chinese
summer house served as an observatory; beds of brilliant scarlet verbena
and many-colored petunias dotted the grass here and there, and right
before them, most beautiful of all in their eyes, was the encampment
itself, eight snowy white tents, four in a row, while in the midst rose
a tall flagstaff, with the dear old Red, White, and Blue floating from
the summit.
"Hurrah, boys, there's the tents!" shouted Peter, at the top of his
voice "Come, let's see who'll get there first;" and, before the
carriage could stop, Peter had hopped out, tumbled head over heels on
the soft grass, jumped up, and scampered on in advance, followed a
moment after by the rest.
These wonderful tents were furnished just like real soldiers' dwellings;
with a good warm blanket for each of the three occupants, a bright tin
basin and tooth mug, a cedar bucket to draw water, a square looking
glass, like a sticking plaster, and a couple of wooden lockers (which,
between ourselves, were made of claret boxes) in each one; beside camp
stools in abundance for everybody.
"Here's the officers' quarters!" cried George, as he flung open the
door of the smoke house.
"No, that's the guard house, Chadwick," said Harry, "where we put the
refracti-rac-tic-tactories."
"Oh, is it? I go in for that!" shouted Will Costar, "whatever
reractitactories may be."
"You're on the wrong tack now, old chap," added Tom Pringle. "But only
see what I've discovered! such a high old battery, boys! six brass
cannon nearly as big as boot-jacks. Hurrah for the Dashahed Zouaves!"
and away scampered the boys to look at the guns, while Colonel Freddy,
quite forgetting his dignity, fell to and executed a volunteer Jim Crow
polka, and Peter sang the following ridiculous song, making up words as
he went along:
"Ain't I glad I'm out in the wilderness,
Out in the wilderness,
Out in the wilderness,
Ain't I glad I'm out in the wilderness,
Down in Astori-_or_?
"Good-by, boys, I'm off for Dixie,
Off for Dixie,
Off for Dixie,
Good-by, boys, I'm off for Dixie,
And sha'n't come back no more!"
Meanwhile, Mr. Schermerhorn had been superintending certain arrangements
for the provisioning of the camp, and presently a bugle call, sounded by
one of the stable men, summoned the regiment to prepare for dinner.
Peter took a bucket and went to draw some water; George and Harry made a
fire in the smoke house, which, after all the guesses, turned out to be
intended for the regimental kitchen; Jimmy and Tom were initiated into
the mysteries of frying ham and potatoes by the cook, and the rest set
the table (for the soldiers considered it a point of honor that they
should wait on themselves).
Amid high glee the table, consisting of a broad smooth plank placed upon
horses, was laid with the tin cup and plates, the pewter forks and
spoons, and horn-handled knives, which the boys carried in their
knapsacks just like real soldiers, after which the table was further
embellished by the remains of the rations they had brought with them,
disposed around wherever they thought the dishes would have the best
effect.
The grand feast of fried ham was ready at last, and the new cooks
presented themselves and it at table, very hungry and happy. Mrs.
Mincemeat, the fat cook, had made the boys each put on one of her blue
check aprons, tied under their chins, to save their uniforms; and when
they appeared in this new array, their faces as red and shining as a
stick of sealing wax, there was a general shout of laughter.
"Well, my precious babies," cried one.
"Don't soil your new bibs, my tiddy-ikle duckies!" called another.
"There, don't tease them," said Freddy, the general peacemaker; "Come,
fellows, let's have dinner; ham's good, I tell you!" and down they sat
at table, in high, good humor.
Of course the cooking business was rather to amuse the boys than in
earnest, for the fried ham formed only a small part of the abundant
dinner set before the gallant Zouaves. There was lamb, and green peas,
new potatoes, fresh tomatoes, custard pudding, and raspberries, all of
which was pronounced "fine," although Jimmy declared there never was any
dish at Delmonico's to equal or surpass his fried ham, and the others
fully concurred in this opinion.
As soon as the dinner was fairly under way, Mr. Schermerhorn rose from
his place at the table, where he had been carving, and said, with a
pleased smile on his face, "Now, my brave soldiers, I must take my
leave. Have the goodness not to do double-quick over the flower beds,
leave a dish or so of cherries in the orchard, and, whatever you do,
don't tumble into the lake, and I shall be satisfied."
"Three cheers for Mr. Schermerhorn!" shouted Colonel Freddy. In an
instant every fellow was on his feet, every cap was in the air, and a
tremendous "Hurrah! hurrah! ti-ga-a-ah!" made the echoes around Camp
McClellan wake up in a hurry, and poke their heads out of the hills to
see where the cannonading was.
Of course, being boys, the regiment cleared the dishes in astonishing
style, and polished their plates so thoroughly that you would hardly
have thought they wanted the grand washing they had when dinner was
over.
After stowing all the things away neatly in the smokehouse, and
arranging their surplus luggage (which had been sent down the previous
Saturday), in the lockers, they all had a grand game at fox and geese,
which lasted until Freddy, perfectly worn out with laughing and
scampering about, exclaimed, "Come, fellows, do let's sit down and be
quiet; I'm as tired as if I had walked from here to China."
"Yes, let's be _solemn_ a little while," said Peter. "In these
_momentous_ times, we _army men_ ought to be thinking how to fix off the
old secessionists and that sort of thing. I move we all sit down in a
circle, and the first who laughs shall tell a story."
The boys thought this was a grand idea. So they found a nice place, just
beneath the sheltering boughs of the locusts, and, putting the camp
stools in a ring, they sat down, to see how solemn they could be. But it
was no use; though they pinched up their mouths, and frowned, and did
their best to look like a company of highly respectable owls, in two
minutes they all burst out laughing, so nearly together that nobody
could tell who had begun.
As soon as the broad faces had come back to their proper length, there
was a general cry for a story; and as Peter had instituted the new
regulation, he undertook to carry it out; so, drawing a long breath to
start with, he commenced:
"Once upon a time, there lived a family of bears in a thick wood.
Grumpy-growly, the father, was a jolly, cross old fellow--oh! I guess he
was! and the little ones didn't dare so much as to snap at a fly without
permission, when he was around.
"One day Grumpy-growly went out to take a walk, bidding the young ones
to be very good while he was away; for he was a widower, poor fellow!
and had to see after his family himself.
"As soon as he was fairly gone, Longclawse, the eldest, said, 'Seems to
me, brothers, we have stood this long enough. All the other cubs in the
wood can run about as they please, and why should we be kept in this
poky old cave? Suppose we try to get away the big log before the door?'
for this was what Grumpy-growly put up to keep them at home.
"'Good! I go in for that!' cried Bushyball, Titehugge, and Stubtail, the
other cubs.
"So first they tried to poke their noses under the log, but the plaguy
old thing wouldn't stir. Then they turned their backs against it, and
all kicked together with their hind legs, and presently away it went, to
the great delight of the four bears, who didn't trouble themselves to
put it back again, but just packed up their carpet bags, and cut stick,
I tell you."
Here Peter opened his eyes and mouth very wide, and ran out his tongue
for a moment to get an airing, a proceeding which he frequently repeated
during the story. Then he went on:
"They had a jolly time climbing trees, rolling on the soft grass, and
playing with the other bears they met; but at last Titehugge and
Stubtail, the youngest, declared they were too tired to go another step,
and must take a little nap. Longclawse and Bushyball thought they would
go off to see the election, which they had been told was to take place
that very day, and the others, promising not to stir from the spot
without them, curled themselves up into tight round balls, and went to
sleep.
"While they were dreaming away, a fox came along. He was a cunning old
codger, and hated Grumpy-growly like mustard, because the old fellow had
once treated him, in a fit of rage, to a hug that nearly put an end to
him. When he saw the sons of his enemy asleep, he made up his mind to
fool them in revenge; and after he had rummaged both their carpet bags,
to see if there was anything worth taking, he went up to Titehugge and
pulled his ear a little to waken him. Titehugge, who was as cross as
two sticks, and always fighting his brothers, opened his eyes, and for
a moment looked so very like giving the fox a gentle squeeze, that foxy
was rather startled. However, he took courage, and laying his paw on his
heart, he made the bear such an elegant bow that he nearly cracked his
spine. 'Ah, my d-e-a-r Titehugge! so glad to see you. You know I have
always been a great friend of your dear papa's, and now, I should be
overjoyed to do you a little favor. Do you happen to know that there is
a tree near here, which is hollow from root to branches, and filled with
wild bees' combs and honey?'
"'No! cried Titehugge, 'is there? Show it to me directly, master fox,
and don't stand there gaping at me!' You see, bears were never
celebrated for being polite, and Titehugge had no more manners than any
of 'em.
"'Come along, then,' said the fox, 'but take care to make no noise, or
you will waken your brother, and then he'll be wanting to have half the
honey.'
"Titehugge was a selfish little pig--bear, I mean--and though he felt
rather shy of going off alone for the first time in his life, he was too
greedy after the honey to let that trouble him much. However, he said,
'You had better be careful not to play any tricks, master fox, for if
you do, I'll give you a hug that will settle _you_--if you are such a
dear friend of mine.'
"'My d-e-a-r friend!' exclaimed the fox, 'd-o-n't say so! How can you
suppose I would do such a shabby thing? Come, we shall soon be at the
tree.'
"Titehugge waited for nothing more, but started off with master fox, who
kept on flattering him all the way until Titehugge thought him the
first-_ratest_ fellow in the whole world. Presently they came to the
hollow tree, and Titehugge, without waiting to ask any questions,
shinned up like a streak of lightning, and began smelling down the hole.
'But, it looks very dark down here,' cried he at last 'and I don't see
any honey'.
"'Oh, you must poke your nose further in,' said the fox, 'and you'll
soon come to it.'
"Titehugge accordingly rammed and jammed his head with great difficulty
into the hole, which proved such an uncommonly tight fit, that, not
finding any honey, he began trying to pull it back double quick; but lo
and behold! pull and tug, scratch and swear as he might, he was caught
in a mouse trap not intended for bears, while the fox stood below
giggling. After he had amused himself enough with Titehugge's struggles,
he scampered off to find Stubtail; bawling out, 'Good-by, my d-e-a-r
friend, I hope you'll find the honey answer your expectations.'
"Meanwhile, master Stubtail was snoring away like a catamount, when the
fox trotted up, and seating himself beside him, began to sing a popular
fox ballad, beginning, 'Oh? don't I love to cheat 'em!'
"This soon awoke Stubtail, and opening his eyes, he saw the fox sitting,
singing away, as if he never dreamed of such a person as Stubtail being
near.
"'Well, master fox!' he said, in a dandified way, 'whawt business have
you, I should like to know, in the--aw company of a bearah of fashion?
Make your mannahs, sir, and don't sit down before your bettahs! How
horrid vulgah you are--aw!'
"Up jumped the fox, and made such a beautiful bow this time, that he
fell over on his nose, and nearly stuck his tail in the bear's face, as
he exclaimed, 'Oh, my d-e-a-r friend! d-o-n'-t say that! I didn't mean
to be uncivil. I only came to ask you to a little fox party that is
coming off this afternoon, if your highness will favor us with your
honorable company. Only ten of my cousins and seven of my brothers and
sisters are coming--just a nice little family party; but then they are
all such beauties! particularly my cousin, Miss Slygo Brighteyes! She is
perfectly lovely; as slender as a bean pole, and smooth as a young
rabbit; and then such sharp teeth, such a fine bushy tail! oh my! and
_such_ a dancer, too, as she is!'
"Now, Stubtail was as fond of dancing and flirting as his brother of
eating, and tried to be a great dandy and beau; so when master fox gave
such a glowing description of Miss Slygo Brighteyes, his charming
cousin, Stubtail's whiskers curled up tighter than ever; and he could
hardly manage to _drawl_ out, 'Aw--yaas, I think I _will_ dwop in for
harf an 'ouah!'
"When the fox heard that, he was ready to stand on his head for joy; and
could scarcely wait while Stubtail opened his carpet bag, and took out
his all-rounder collar, his lemon-colored kid gloves, and his pork pie
hat, to wear at the fox's party.
"But what has become of Titehugge?' he asked, suddenly noticing that his
brother was not there.
"'Oh, never mind _him_,' said the fox, 'I saw the selfish little wretch
gobbling away at some honey as I came along, and you see he was too
greedy to ask you to share it.'
"This was enough for Stubtail, who was too hard at work drawing on his
tight gloves to think of anything else, and away he trotted with the
fox; who took him to a lonely hollow in the wood, where, sure enough,
there were about fifty other foxes clustered together, but who looked at
Stubtail as he came among them, in anything but a pleasant manner.
"'Now, my friends!' exclaimed master fox himself, in a furious tone,
'you see before you the son of that old scoundrel Grumpy-growly, who
nearly killed me last year. At him, my dear cousins! scratch his eyes
out! ahaaa!' and with a long growl of rage the fox made a sudden jump at
poor Stubtail before he had time to run away, followed by all the
others.
"Stubtail fought like a perfect Zouave, hugging, scratching, and biting
his enemies with might and main; but after all, one poor little cub
could not do very much against a whole army of foxes, and Stubtail would
have been killed outright before long, when suddenly a tremendous
growling was heard! and up dashed Grumpy-growly himself, who most
fortunately happened to be passing, and came to see what the row was,
followed by Longclawse and Bushyball, full tilt! They didn't stop to
inquire whether this was a free fight or not, but pitched in like a
thousand of bricks, and demolished the foxes in a way which astonished
them considerable.
"As to master fox, he was making off first of anybody, leaving his
friends in the lurch; but Grumpy-growly saw him, and catching him by the
ear, made him confess all the mischief he had been about that morning;
and as soon as he had finished, Grumpy-growly gave him one good hug,
which killed him as dead as a coffin nail.
"After the grand battle was over, Grumpy-growly marshalled the three
cubs before him, hanging their heads, and looking perfectly miserable
with shame and fatigue, and started off to find Titehugge; scolding and
beating them all the way for their naughty conduct, though they were
punished enough already; for Longclawse and Bushyball had gone to the
election, where they had been well pummelled by a shoulder-hitting
baboon, because they insisted on voting for Douglas as the beariest
fellow on the ticket, and afterward met by their father, who gave them
another thrashing for daring to come out without leave, and dragged them
howling away. Stubtails ears were torn into ribbons, his head bleeding
in twenty places, and unfortunately no 'Balm of the Blooming Blossoms of
Gilead' to put on it, and, in short, the whole party looked as if they
had been at an Irish funeral and nearly been made 'cold corpuses'
themselves. After a long hunt, they at last found Titehugge stuck fast
where the fox had left him, and now the puzzle was to get him out. The
three brothers all tried in vain, and at last Grumpy-growly caught hold
of Titehugge's tail, Longclawse of Grumpy-growly's, Stubtail of
Longclawse's, and Bushyball of Stubtail's, and they all pulled and
tugged together; ouf! ouf! altogether now! one, two, three, Pop! out
came Titehugge, and out came his tail, too! and the five bears rolled
head over heels together in such a hurley-burley, that it was a long
time before they could get straight enough to start for home; and when
they _did_ get there, Grumpy-growly put up the big log again, and put a
big stone on top of that, and a hundred pound weight on top of that, and
_one_ of those home-made pies we used to have at boarding school on top
of _that_, which proved the heaviest of the lot, and if they ever
happened to get out of prison again, it is more than I know."
Thus ended the wonderful story of the five bears, which gave great
amusement to the hearers, and was pronounced "first rate." Pretty soon
after, they had a scrambling sort of tea, not quite as orderly as
dinner, for they were all tired out with the day's adventures; and about
seven o'clock, George, who, as I told you, was the oldest of the party,
sensibly proposed that the regiment should go "early to bed," on the
principle of the old maxim, and in order to be "early to rise," after
the example of real soldiers.
As they were not quite certain what were the usual ceremonies attendant
upon soldiers' retiring, Freddy undertook to "do the thing up brown," as
he said, in a novel and delightfully military manner. So, taking his
place about a dozen yards in advance of the camp, and standing as stiff
as a ramrod, just as he had seen the officers do at West Point, he
called out "Battalion, attention!"
At these words, the regiment strung themselves in a long line, like so
many kibobs on a straw, with their captains standing in front. "Now,
Captain Livingston, dismiss your company to quarters," and off marched
the first company, four "men" strong, toward the tents; then the next
four, and so on, until all had gone, and then came posting back again
without the smallest delay.
Colonel Freddy was obediently following his own orders by dismissing
himself, with a sublime disregard of rank, when Peter suddenly called
out, "I say, Fred, there's one thing you've forgotten!"
"What is that?" asked Freddy, stopping short.
"Why, we ought to have a guard. You know they always do in camps."
"To be sure! I never thought of that. Come, fellows, the safety of Camp
McClellan must be looked out for."
"Very well, suppose you begin!" laughed Jimmy.
"Hum, I'm the Colonel; Colonels can't be sentinels."
"But I want to go to bed!" objected Will Costar.
"Well, I love my country, but I think the country had better turn in
too!" said Harry. "What business has the country to be awake and getting
into mischief in the middle of the night?"
"Voted," cried Peter, "that the guard be mounted, but that it shall go
to bed as soon as it gets sleepy!"
"Good for you! that's the way to fix it!" said Colonel Freddy. "Now
then, boys, who'll turn out?" and two of the gallant Zouaves being
posted, one on each side of the camp, the others produced their
nightgowns (which, by their special entreaty, had been crammed into the
little knapsacks), and with several hair breadth escapes from having one
or two of the tents pitched over, as the occupants incautiously ran
against the poles, the regiment after, I am glad to say, a most sincere
and earnest repetition of their prayers, fell into the sweet sound sleep
of happy childhood; while the guard, after prancing up and down about
ten minutes, concluded to follow their example, as there was nothing
particular in the way of an enemy to look out for.
Ah! how charming looked now the little encampment, with the full
radiance of the harvest moon streaming over the white tents, standing
gleamingly out from the dark background of trees. No sound but the
chirpings of insects could be heard; nothing moved about the spot but
the flag, stirring dreamily in the summer breeze. And now the wind
springs fresher up; it catches the bright folds, and they flash out in
full view. God bless you, glorious old banner! floating there over as
loyal, though boyish hearts, as ever beat in the midnight camp of the
Army of Freedom.
END OF VOL. I.
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes:
Obvious punctuation errors repaired.
Page 18, "contined" changed to "continued" (then she continued)