The Valley Virginian. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1865-1895, 1867-02-20
From DeBow's Review
Sketch of Federal and Confederate
C0mu.


Here stands Federal camp. A thou
sand and ten thousand snow-white tents
sweep farther than the eyes may reach
The Star Spangled Banner of richest
silk floats on the breeze, which swells
with the "Hail Columbia or yankee
Doodle" of some grand band of brass which
has figured in the saloons Of the metropo-
Titan cities. Sleek and well-fed war horses
neigh and prance; great herds Of lowing
cattle are seen in the rear. In yonder
tent, officers with blazing insignia and
broadcloth, send the jest around over all
the viands Of Fulton market and wines of
France. The champagne pops. The fume
Of regalias scents the air. Velvety mats
and cushions and cunningly- devised camp
equipage are spread around. Books, news
papers and stationery, maps, charts and
pictures! Enter again This time you
are in the soldiers tent. What comforta-
bic blankets and oil cloths and over
coats which might defy the SHOWS of
Greenland what well filed haversack a
little stove warns him, good coffee cheers
him all of those oxen bleed for him and
well-baked bread crowns his board See,
that yellow flag. 1t covers the hospital.
Enter if you please. There are piles of
bandages, pills, and potieas and specifics
in neat boxes, and good things crown the
shelves. Those cases are the most exquis-
itely fine instruments Of surgery. Those
surgeons and those nurses are practiced
and expert. There are cordials and who's
in those bottles. There are lemons and
wines in those bottles. There are lemons
and ice and all the delicaeies Of the trop-
les in those enclosures. Those sick men
are clothed In fine linen and repose on
genial couches. That body is being en-
balmed to be sent home.
Oh, dreary contrast We are now in a
CONFEDERATE camp; no tents are here
the war has worn them cut. No silken
banner foats-it is shreds and patches,
and cannot be replaced. The solitary fife
and drum discourse the inspiring strains of
Dixie Hank and wosA, the war horse
plucks the leaves and barks the trees; a
Tow COWS, tough and old and attenuated I
await their fate, Under that tree gray
frocks, faded and wcrn, with some lace
and embroidery and old, newspaper
printed on one side, an cd map and
a spy glass, which Was used in the Next |
can war tell that Stonewall Jackson or For |
rest are there
Around that fire, smoke-dried, reclin-
ing on the naked earth, two or three on
blanket, as matter Of economy the over
coat is in tatters, the haversack is turned |
inside out, the canteen has been traded |
for from a Yankee prisoner the cloak has
been picked up on battle field you have
the Confederate soldier! Those boots cape
and let ia the cold and rain, that hat has
been shot to pieces; those pantaloons have
lost SIX inches Of the e1tremity-but when |
can they be replaced? The soldier cooks
his hard meal bread and toasts his bacon
on the embers, and in his tin cup lie has
contrived a substitute for coffee, which is
not houored by either milk or sugar. No
bic soldier He is not cursing tho COM
missary or the quarscrmaster, but reeoun-
ting the adventures Of yesterday in which |
many dear coEyade went down, telling
rough jokes of the day, or rejoicing in the
glorious conflict Of arms which the NOR
row will bring forth.