The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1863-03-02
From the Providence Journal, Feb. Is.
Voices Of the Night in Camn.

The warm, murky day had left me with one
of those dull sleepless headaches, and at an ear
ly hour sought to lose myself in repose.-
Sleep came not The first hours, remember,
were full of all-confused and martial scenes,
and | only sought to close my ears on them
and forget. One by one the drums ceased
to roll; the tone of the distant bugles died
on the air; the hum of voices grew fainter
and fainter; the lights in the tents went out
and all was still. But, o, what stiffness =
A stiffness peopled with every sound. Vague,
clear, distinct tones came from every quarter,
In every key, in every moment. 1t seemed to
me as for hours lay awake to it, that there
was not the hundredth part Of a second that
was not pierced by the voice of some animate
or inanimate thing. Thinking of it in the
light of that nights experience, it does not
seem so strange that the old worshippers fan
cied that the spirits of the night, in their fran
tic and fantastic hours and moods, sang and
spake so as to be overheard by human ears
The grim sentinel on his beat passed to and
fro few feet from my head, and the dull
sound Of his foot became monotonous. The
occasional approach of a tardy soldier would
call forth his quick, sharp "Who goes there ?'
Friend" advance, friend, with the coun-
tersign." The poor delinquent being unpro-
vided, then rings out Corporal OF the guard.
post No. B." From post to post the call is re-
peated, till presently all is quiet again. In
moment the time bell on the distant gunboat
strikes its sharp, clear ding, ding" and like
an echo 1t goes from boat to boat, till il goes
the round of the fleet. is this the surgeons
tent?" "No; down the line.' There must be
something wrong at the stables, think. Soon
the humping and saddling is over. "Bow,
WOW, wow" That is from the big, black dog
at the mansion over the field. That keen,
hoarse, snappish "yeak, yeak,' must come
from some mean-looking. curly cur. That lit
tie, plump, sharp bow, bow, bow" is from
smooth, well-bred, good-natured dog.
That cracked, screaming, outlandish bark,
unwriteable and unrepeatable, is evidently
from an unfortunate dog with cropt ears and
dirty, shaggy coat, who goes on three legs,
and, while unable to do his part of dog-work
by day, wishes, in the voices OF the night, to
be represented la the eloquence of cur-ology.
"Clink, clink, cliDk, clink, as the feet of the
painting horse 60 by, suggests that perhaps the
"Rebs.' have attacked the outpost. Then
comes the chirp and scream of bug and bird.
"Bang." Who fired that musket? MY COM
rade in the next tent must be better off than
poor l, by the way he snoreA Fire, fire, fire."
That is the New York fireman in Company Ii,
dreaming. "Seesaw, seesaw." That is the
limb OF the old elm, grating against the roof
of the cook house. That locomotive must be
bringing in the relieved guard, stationed up
the railroad. foot, loot, toot." There, the
steamer is in. We shall get mail now
@Thump, rattle. rattle" There goes the top
off the stove pipe on the surgeons tent
ssWhat's that, Stephen?" "Don kno, sir, CESS
SOMEBODY run ginst de cord OBJ de tent, SIR
That cavalry bugle must be from some
guard relief FLAP, flap, fap." stephen,
they wont blow away?" Il tried EN- all, sir,
and Lreckon dey be all tight, sir" "Patter,
patter, patter.n How quick shower does
come up here in the south? "Tick, tick, tick
1t does seem to me that my watch never tick
ed SO loud before. There! l cant turn but my
rude bedstead will screech like spirit. "Cor-
poral of the guard, post No. 8, double-quickr
This Is the postmaster's step. He is if after
the mail, so as to have it for the boys in the
morning. Itseems to me | never knew the
wind 20 blow so. | don't know but the tents
will have TO 60 pretty soon. "Turn out the
guard for the grand rounds There comes the
general officer of the day. Turn out! Come,
be quick! Hurry up!'' The clatter of hoofs
tells me that he has gone toward the 45th
Massachusetts. yell, scream, haloo, bang,
slam bang" Guess the boys are rather unruly
in the guard-house tonight Maybe they
know where the hospital whisky went that
turned up missing. "Who comes there ?r Il
only wanted to Know II waved seed my man
Ben, round dish ere camp?n If the music an
animal makes, corresponds to the size of his
body, how much larger these frogs must be
IMAM tnOse IN the nortn. Ill warrant that
mouse is eating hole into my trunk. Won
der what key that Jacks voice was tuned on?
3Ding, ding, ding Those gunboats must be
noisy place to sleep in. The crickets chirp as
though they were bent on flooding the ear of
night. What kind of creature can that be
that has that little mite of voice, and speaks
forty times In minute, so mellow and soft
and sharp?
Probably was nervous, but then in one
minute hundred distinct. unnameable sounds
would chime in, in strange aud unutterabe
harmony. II was not song, and vet there
were voices, loud, echoing and eloquent. II
was not tune, and yet every key was touched.
and scales far above and below the written
throbbed and vibrated with unutterable pulsa-
tions Of tone and harmony. 1t was a soul
wandering astonished through the gorgeous
echoings of dream-land, and yet. solemnly
aver, was wide awake. 1t was q tide Of
sound,with ten thousand demonstrating thro'
the narrow gorge of every minute. or one
thing am sure, the unnumbered and innumer-
able voices of the night in camp have an ex-
preston, pathos, an eloquence and meaning
Of which never dreamed till my nervous
night awoke me to them.
A WATERY SERMON. - Mr. Buckle, in the