The Maryville times. (Maryville, Tenn.) 1884-1944, 1899-01-14
HIS LAST FAVOR.
BY HOFFMAN ATKINSON.

THEY were decidedly dirty pair
of men. | don't know that they
were dirtier than the rest of us, but
they were not the sort of fellows their
mothers would have talked to for five
minutes without suggesting soap.
You see, when life becomes matter
of lying down at night, if you are lucky
enough not to be on guard or picket
duty, wherever your company line may
happen to be, and that without refer
ence to the weather or the condition of
the ground; and of getting up at day
light and scrambling for tin cup of
field-made coffee, with some fiint-like
crackers, and, perhaps, a small chunk
of salt fat pork and then of falling in
and marching all day to similar camp
ing ground, with the same kind of
morning following it, opportunities
Tor making careful toilettes are few
and far between.
When we came into the service, we
carried knapsacks filled with changes
of underclothes, and socks, and Bibles,
and daguerreotypes of grandma, and a
lot of other elegancies. Not only did
they cut on the collar bone like the
mischief, but they were a thing of
scorn to the real soldier Later, we
laughed in our dirty philosophy as we
remembered the pangs we felt at toss
ing them over the fence, when the
whole regiment threw them away and
set their teeth tight for that awfully
iong days march, ending with fight.
Of course there were breaks in this
marching all day and sleeping in the
dirt at night. Occasionally we fought
generally on Sundays; Heaven knows
why-and sometimes we had :. few days
in one resting place, when the fellow
who owned piece of soap, if he were
wise, used it before lending it. Then
there were blissful days when we could
get under shelter in some deserted
house or clubhouse; but, of course, the
officers usually got these plums in the
pudding. Still, to be fair about it, the
officers had, taken as class, to put up
with pretty much what was going IN
the west.
So that explains why my two COM
rades were dirty. One of them, the
younger, was farmers son who had
been fresh-faced, rather chubby lad
when he joined us; bue he was pretty
lean by the fall of 80, and, instead of
round, pink checks, he had fiat, tan
colored jaws. The man he was talking
with, his chum and partner" was, per-
haps, 80 years old.
He had been frequent wanderer,
and, I fancy, shiftless ne'er-do- well.
A smattering of every known trade was
his, and sublime impudence which
made him quite equal to offering to
build cathedral or repair chronome-
ter. They were not bad types of volun-
teer soldiers, although their uniforms
were much the worse for wear. Wear
in campaigning means mud and grease,
to say nothing of rents and burned
holes. The attrtion of genteel poverty
doesn't show on a private's uniform.
They were sitting on low bank
made by the road, and the younger man
was fretting at his ungainly shoe and
Bore place on the ankle where the sharp
edge of the coarse, unbound army
leather had badly chafed the stocking
less skin, and made every step cause
him the greatest pain,
81 wish ! could GO barefoot, like
used to when was boy" he growled.
''I'd feel better, and travel better"
Just then the bugles along the
brigade sounded Attention" and the
soldiers slouched into their regular col
umn formation, and stood awaiting or
ders. The mules in the wagons iingled
their chains, as they moved, against the
collar.
Forward" and the struggling,
,seary march began again, the men in
front keeping pretty even pace. but
those in the rear having short, vexa-
tious halts every time hill. patch Of
bad mud, or other obstacle rolled the
ranks back on them; tiny halt wave it
would be at first, but it would grow
larger and larger in proportion to the
length of the column of soldiers.
If an infantryman hates and despises
anything ON the march, it is a cavalry
man. Apart from the aggravation of
seeing a fellow-soldier carried on a
horse. there is the irritation of having