under arms by two o'clock on the following
morning, and by half-past to form up
in the position assigned to it on the main
road. Men from each regiment were at
once to cook three days' rations, and
fires were built up and replenished for
that purpose. Whilst the commissary
sergeants were issuing the meat, of which,
perhaps, few would stand in need, detachments
were sent to the springs for water.

Somewhat excited and disinclined for
rest, I strolled among the busy groups,
glancing at recumbent men who, unable to
sleep, were watching, in the red glare of
the blazing wood, the preparations for their
first battle-field. Instead of the usual riotous
conduct of a camp, there was an oppressive
solemnity, most of the watchers being busy
with their thoughts of distant homes and
the chances of the morrow; instead of
laughter and noise, there were dull whisperings.
Some, more energetic than others,
were giving utterance to their thoughts on
paper, seeking, as the flame rose and fell
from the cooking-fires, to hold their—
perhaps—last converse with absent friends.
The faces I saw that night in the flickering
glare would have been a study for Lavater.
The penmen, with boards across their
knees to serve as desks, would pause at
intervals, and, peering into the glowing
embers, seek earnestly for some halting
thought. Others, extended at length, with
their heads propped up by their elbows,
were staring vacantly into the darkness of
the night. There were some old soldiers,
not to be mistaken, whose moustached
features told of French or German nationality;
men who had perhaps met with the
Kabyles in the deserts of Africa, or had
marched with the Austrians in the
campaign against Hungary, or, under Benedek,
through the plains of Lombardy. These,
with the recklessness of old cartridge-
chewers, shuffled their dirty packs, and
puffed their clouds of smoke, as they
studied their hands of cards. But, taken
altogether, there was a depression about
the men, as though some grave uncertainty
threatened them with evil, and each feared
it might be his lot to suffer. As I have
said before, it was mainly an army of
untried volunteers.

At two o'clock A.M. the damp drums
croaked the reveille in the chill of early
morn. The shivering men moved spectre-
like in the thick mist that shrouded the
camp, and answered to the muster-roll
in subdued voices. Close by where I had
passed the short night stood the doctor's
waggon, and the scenes around it bore
strong evidence against the dignity and
courage of man, and burlesqued the glorious
circumstance and pomp of war. The
doctor, lantern in hand, was examining
men who had come forward almost by
companies to assert their inability to
move with the troops, and their utter
uselessness in the coming fight. The
rays of the doctor's light, when lifted to
the patients' faces, led one to imagine
there was some foundation for their
statements, for never did I gaze on features
more pale or eyes more restless. At the
surgeon's request whole brigades of tongues
were protruded for examination, but most
of these were discovered to have been
floured for the occasion. The favourite
dodge of all was evidently the "rheumatiz,"
which owed its popularity to the
well-known suddenness of its attacks, and
the inability of a medical man, especially
under hurried circumstances, to "bowl
out" the impostor, who, with excruciating
shrieks at every touch, writhed under the
manipulations of the surgeon. I distinctly
remember the case of one Patrick Meenighan,
an Irishman from New York, who
was brought up for examination, having
relays of fits on the way. The wretched
man was foaming fearfully at the mouth,
his eyes rolling, and every limb quivering
with the spasms of his malady. One glance
sufficed to convince the doctor the case was
genuine, and he was about to pass the
afflicted wretch to the care of the ambulance
sergeant, when, unfortunately for Pat,
he gave a sudden gulp, his hands pressed
his collapsing stomach, his stare became
fixed, whilst the frothing at the mouth
sensibly diminished, and retching violently
he exclaimed, with choking voice, "Holy
Vargin! I've swallowed the soap!" Out
of a hundred or so from one regiment
claiming exemption from the coming battle,
some half-dozen genuine cases were handed
over to the hospital orderlies, and the others
driven back with taunts and curses to their
places in the ranks. The orders were now
for the men to move silently to the road
without beat of drum, so that the movement
might be hidden as long as possible
from the vigilance of the enemy.

Crowded together on that road, awaiting
instructions to advance as soon as the leading
columns should have taken the routes
assigned to them, paused the army in the
darkness of early morn and the still darker
gloom of uncertainty. The order for
silence in the ranks need scarcely have