Springfield globe-republic. (Springfield, Ohio) 1884-1887, 1885-03-29
Mcclellan as an Organizer.

Gen. Mcclellan was indefatigablS y
| reOrganizing the army routed at Bull
Run, writes Ben: Perley Poore to the
Boston Budget, and he used every day
to ride or walk through the camps about
Washington in citizens dress. looking
ont for abuses to be remedied. One
day as he was strolling through the rear
of regi1nental encampment, he saw .
pail of some dark-looking mixture
standing by fire, and asked what it
was. ats coffee" said the soldier
who was officiating as cook. Tome"
replied Mcclellan, 1t looks more like
slops." ..Oh." said the soldier, ''it is
not fit to drink, but we have to put up
with it. and our other food Is not bit
better" "Well, whose fault is it?" he
asked. ..Oh, our guartermasteri is drunk
most of the time, and when he is not
he is studying how to cheat McClel-
Ian passed on, and seeing more evidence
of the dirty and slovenly manner in
which the quartermaster conducted the
operations in his tent, he aecosted him
with the remark that the men were
complaining of bad treatment from
him. The quartermaster flew into
passion, and swore it was none OF his
business, and he had better not come
sneaking around trying to make mis-
chief. Mcclellan answered him, telling
him he had better be cautious how he
talked. Quartermaster replied: ''WhO
are YOU, that YOU assume so much ap-
parent authority?'' II am George B.
Mcclellan, and you can pack up your
traps and leave" The auartermaster
was struck dumb, and Mcclellan turned
and left him. That evening the quar-
termaster left, to the tune Of the
"Rogue's March," played by some Of
the boys who had got wind of it.
Gen. Mcclellan made laudable en-
deavor to secure Sunday as day Of
camped around the federal metropolis.
The chapiains were accorded the sover-
eighty of the day after the usual Sum-
day morning inspection, and the men
were not given any leave of absence, so
that but few of them were to be seen ON
the streets of Washington. Those
streets were as quiet as those of a north
ern village. There were no horse rail-
roads, and the rickety omnibuses did
not run. A few scattered army-wagons
loitered through the streets, bearing
their loads of bread and provisions to
some suburban camp. A few private
carriages bore their owners to church
or to take the air. Now and then Q
coach was seen, driven slowly by tall
paragon of propriety in white gloves
and ruffled shirt, with an ebony hat and
complexion, while within were seated,
in softly-cushioned luxury, Mr.. and
Mrs. Moneybags, wearing no express
sion save one of mild resignation to the
plumes of fortune. No newsboys smote
with their shrill, discordant cries the
stiffness of the summer air. No jang-
ling bells from rattling wagons an
nounced to all the neighborhood the
sudden arrival of somebody's morning
milk. No street-cars bowled merrily
by, their cushioned seats filled with
happy, social faces, which would have
made even aristocratic Mr.. Moneybags,
in his solitary coach, turn pale with
envy. Save the light football of pedes-
trians and the creaking noise Of the
public pumps, as their long iron ham
dies were piled necessarily by those in
quest of water, no noise was heard in
all the streets of Washington.