unpleasant.  Before we had gone far, he broke out with, “’Dade, ma’am, ye’ll go there no more, if ye plaze.”  Amazed, I questioned why?  “Sure, thim fellers was makin’ game av ye an’ callin’ ye out av yer name.”  “Why, Peter,” cried I, “you are crazy:  who called me names, and what did they call me?” “Thim offshurs, ma’am.  Sure, I couldn’t make out their furrin worruds, but I belave ’tis a sinner they called ye.  Faith, an’ if ye’re a sinner, where wad the saints be?” Of course, woman-like, I became furious, and, on our arrival at headquarters, indignantly reported the “offshurs” to the surgeon in charge, who promised to investigate.

The sequel is most amusing.  It turned out that Peter had overheard a conversation between the officers above mentioned and Dr. ——.  They having made some kindly remark as to my hospital service, Dr. ——­ as kindly replied, “Yes, she is a sine qua non.”  My amusement was mingled with chagrin at my hasty anger, but Peter remained unconvinced and never forgave the offenders.  Upon another occasion I was compelled to interfere to protect an innocent victim of Peter’s wrath.  One of my “boys” about returning to his command came to take leave of me and to offer a little keepsake.  This was, or appeared to be, a crochet-needle prettily carved and having one end fringed out.  I took it with thanks, saying, “I hope I may use this needle to crochet a pair of mittens for you.”  Cried the donor, “That ain’t no crochet-needle.”  “No?  Well, what is it?” “It is a dipping-stick; don’t you chaw snuff?” Upon my indignant denial, the crestfallen man exclaimed, “Well, Lor’, lady, I made sure you did, you’re so yaller complected” (I had shortly before recovered from an attack of jaundice).  Now, it chanced that Peter, knowing my fondness for a pine-knot fire, had collected a quantity of knots, which he just then brought in, and, hearing the uncomplimentary remark of my soldier-friend, turned upon him with the utmost fury, and such a tirade of abuse as followed baffles alike my power to recall the words or to describe the rage which prompted them.  I was compelled to interfere and order Peter out of the room.

“When, in the course of human events,” those who for four years had shared the fortunes of war separated to seek their several homes, I lost sight of my devoted friend.

He was “Old Peter” then, and, in all probability, no longer lives, save in my memory.  If he be dead, “peace to his ashes.”  If living, may God bless and sustain him in the days that are “full of trouble.”

In the midst of this terrible winter, on one of the most bitter days, there came about noon an order from “the front” to prepare for two hundred sick, who would be down late the same night.  There was not a bed to spare in either of the hospitals.  Negotiations were at once opened for the only church in Ringgold not already occupied by the sick.  The people declined to give it up.  But, “necessity