The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1893-12-01

was cast. 1t was a year of misery,
that ended in long and dangerous i'll
ness, his final shipment to Washing
ton on sick-leave, and then a winter of
keen delight, social campaign in
which he won fame, honors, friends at
court, and transfer to the artillery
and then, joining his new regiment, he
plunged with eagerness into the gage
ties of city life. The blues were left
behind with the cold facings of his for
mer corps, and hope, life, duty, were
all blended in hues as roseate as his
new straps were red. 1t wasn't a
month before all the best fellows in
the batteries swore by Sam Waring
and all the others at him, so that
where there were five who liked there
were at least twenty who didn't, and
these made up in quantity what they
lacked in quality.
To sum up the situation, Lieut..
Doyle's expression was perhaps the
most comprehensive, as giving the
views of the great majority: IF were
his X. o. and this crowd the coort, he'd
"a been kicked out of the service
months ago"
And yet, entertaining or expressing
so hostile an opinion of the laughing
lieutenant, Mr. Doyle did not hesitate
to seek his society on many an occasion
when he wasn't wanted, and to solace
himself at Warnings sideboard at any
hour of the day or night, for Warning
kept what was known as ''open house"
to all corners, and the very men who
wondered how he could afford il and
who predicted his speedy swapping in
a mire of debt and disgrace were the
very ones who were most frequently to
be found loafing about his gallery,
smoking his tobacco and swigging his
whisky, pretty sure sign that the oc-
cupant of the quarters, however, was
absent. With none of their number
had he ever had open quarrel. Re-
marks made at his expense and report
ed to him in moments of bibulous
confidence he treated with gay disdain,
often to the manifest disappointment
of his informant. In his presence even
the most reckless of their number
were conscious of certain restraint.
Waring, as has been said, detested foul
language, and had a very quiet but eff
fective way of suppressing it, often
without so much as uttering a word.
These were the rough days of the army,
the very toughest it ever knew, the
days that interviewed between the in
cessant strain and tension of the four
years battling and the slow gradual
m Of
discipline. The rude speech and man
ners of the camp permeated every gar
rison. The bulk of the commissioned
force was made up of hard fighters.
brave soldiers and loyal servants of
the nation, to be sure, but as a class
they had known no other life or
language since the day of their muster
in. OF the line officers, stationed in
and around this southern city in the
lovely spring-tide of 1856, of force
aggregating twenty companies of in
fantry and cavalry, there were fifty
captains and lieutenants appointed
from the volunteers, the ranks, or civil
life, to one graduated from West Point.
The predominance was in favor of ex-
sergeants, corporals or company clerks
good men and true when they wore
the chevrons, but who, with few
marked and most admirable excep-
tons, proved to be utterly out of
their element when promoted to a
higher sphere. The entrance into
their midst of Capt Cram with his
swell light battery, with officers and
men in scarlet plumes and full-dress
uniforms, was a revelation to the SOM
Der battalions whose officers had not
yet even purchased their epaulettes and
had seen no occasion to wear them.
But when Cram and his lieutenants
came staggering about the garrison I!