The evening times., 1898-05-21
STORIES OF TIE CAMP.

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Tea we'rs blocaint .-sailast bsoea."
We're "dcfenders Of our lsnd.r
An we're brimmfn' full of s.giory'-
Patriots Z beat the band;
But there amt NO bloody glory"
DieEfn' up yhgini. dirt.
Dcin' sqilad drill in shirt
Hep yer arms, 7 blntsd fe!sle.
Hep yer arms. an mind yer orden'-
Lays Of Camp Aiger.
The long yellow column swung down the
road. "One. two, one. two: leff. left. left.
left" The cioggy dust claimed every
thing. and only the bristiing lines of blue
steel tubes served to show that these
grim. grizzly. worn ranks were United
States Volunteers.
Back up the road. where the burning
sun baked the damp side banks into more
dust, lay the seven who had fallen. even
when relief was at hand. They were but
seven brown spots far behind. The boyish
faces stared classify into tho sun, the
arms shook convulsively, the fingers
worked deep into the road, the lips froth-
ed. And from the far. tent-lit hill came
the stirring strains. Of ..Dixie''-yet the
seven heard nothing.
So 1t came that the 6fxty-flfth New
York found Camp Alger. Three battaliona
strong they were, and full Of fight. The
gliding of civil parade had suecumbed to
weary, forced marches. and there were
lines beneath their eyes from the calling
of even the single shirt between these
men and discipline. dur afelessrrs6 -
Attention.! Fix bayonets! Stack arms
FAN outr The Virginia sod was velvet
to these weird men.
A great red-whiskered giant eagerly
cast on his knapsack and from somewhere
in the depths of his blanket dragged a
tiny kitten. The little creature was faini
from the same agonies known to the reg
iment-fatigue and thirst.
Poor little BRUTE growled the giant
its near dead. I'm goin' to get It SONS
water"
wait for the word warned his cor.
poral. =
Get out," answered. the giant, "can.t
you see that the cats dyin'?''
And on he went to hunt the spring. mol
did his corporal report any insubordina.
tion In his company that morning.
1t Is not always 10 degrees in the
shade, even at Camp Aiger. and herein
lies a tale.
or course. one desires friends: it wa;
times when one might well be saved
from ones friends. and this was also
true Of the Emmet Guard. Down in tbs
brush. to the rear of the company kitch
ems, stands a vast monument of empty
beer kegs; martyrs to patriotism-bui
this Is another story.
Private Black was patriotic on thi.
eventful night. Indeed. he was full Of
patriotism. and when taps" sounded his
patriotism was at a boiling point. Hs
pondered long over the wrongs of his
country-aye. he meditated DER the
Maine. and he vowed that he would slay
Spaniard that self-same night.
Cautiously he craw1ed up the white
street until he spied the expected Span
lard. snoring in a tent. Breathiessly he
crouched and gazed and gazed. did Pri-
vate Black. How long he gazed he knew
not. but his bones were stiff. and 1t was
very chilly.
All, He had it. He would secure that
Spanish blanket as a trophy and would
exhibit 1t to his admiring friends. He
sprang upon the Spaniard. and after
much yelling of Sentry. Help, Span
iards,'' on the part of the Don. the gal
liant Black escaped to his tent with his
trophy.
Some one had stolen a company blank
ct. and the company was much exercised
about IL in the morning. Private Black
had little use for the reveille, but calmly
slept on. and slew whole battalions of
Spaniards in his dreams. Thereupon he
was roughly aroused. and when he had
disentangled himself from the windings
of two blankets. he was a disgraced man.
All the same Private Black will march
down the Avenue today with the Emmet
Guard: and. furthermore. he may yet
slay real Spaniards and secure blankets
woven in Madrid.
Over where the foot hills die away into
the rolling plain. the boys from Ohio
have pitched their canvas. The streets
are wide and deserted.
Out in the red heat lonog blue masses
swing myriad legs in unison. while the
sharp. clear commands are soothed by
distance.
A slim little figure stands at attention
before the dropping flag on the captains
tent The ugly blouse flaps with his ev-
cry motion, save when the thick belt
gathers it close to the frame.
The rifle comes to rest A shaking
hand presents a telegram to the superior
officer.
when did she die?"
Yesterday. SIR
"yery well, you are granted leave
The rhythmical tap Of a thousand heels
comes from the road-the joyous clank of
acouterments is stirring-down in the
hollow under the trees the band iazily
chords. My Mother Was Lady"
The tired sentry wonders what the fel-
low in the third tent Is shaking about.
He quietly looks over the PROSTATE slab
of blue on the blanket.
Guess he must be sick"
Even the shovels seemed to rebel
against their use in that heat. The sweat
ing toilers turned up long ridges from the
ditch around the hospital tent and swore
at each ridge.
"Say, get some water. will yeh,''
who fur?''
Sixth Illinois. By C.! we'll die If you
don't" -
Inside the hospital tent a naked suffer-
er feverishly tossed and groaned on a
cot His face was as chalky as the roof of
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