wer to the letter. Yesterday he was burning with a desire to make an
opportunity to write. Now the opportunity was at hand, the object of his
desires had actually asked him to write her, and the completeness of the
opportunity unnerved him.

"The first thing I have got to do," said he, "is to git some paper and
envelopes and ink. I don't s'pose they've got anything here fit for a
gentleman to write to a lady with." He turned over the sutler's stock
of stationery disdainfully, and finally secured a full quire of heavy,
gilt-edged paper, and a package of envelopes, on which was depicted a
red-and-blue soldier, with a flag in one hand and a gun in the other,
charging bayonets through a storm of bursting shells.

"It's true I ain't one o' the color-guard yit," mused Shorty, studying
the picture, "but the Colonel sorter hinted that I might be, if Cap
McGillicuddy could spare me from Co. Q, which ain't at all likely. Now,
Mister, le'me see some pens."

"Here's some--Gillott's--best quality," said the sutler's clerk.

"Naw," said Shorty contemptuously. "Don't want no common steel pens.
Goin' to write to a lady. Git me your best gold ones."

Shorty made quite a pretense of trying, as he had seen penmen do,
the temper of the pens upon his thumb-nail, but chose the largest and
highest priced one, in an elaborate silver holder.

"I'm very partickler 'bout my pens," said he to the clerk. "I must have
'em to just suit my hand. Some folks's very keerless about what they
write with, but I wasn't brung up that way."

"If you'd ask my advice," said the clerk, "I'd recommend this thing as
the best for you to use. It'd suit fine Italian hand better'n any pen
ever made."

And he held up a marking-pot and brush.

"Young man," said Shorty, solemnly, as he paid for his purchases, "the
condition o' your health requires you not to try to be funny. It's one
o' the dangerousest things in the army. You're exposed to a great
many complaints down here, but nothin' 'll send you to the hospital as
suddenly as bein' funny."

The next thing was a studio where he could conduct his literary task
without interruption, and Shorty finally found a rock surrounded by
bushes, where he could sit and commune with his thoughts. He got the
cover of a cracker-box, to place on his knees and serve for a desk, laid
his stationery down beside him, re-read Maria's letter several times,
spoiled several sheets of paper in trying to get his fingers limber
enough