little psychology in Basil's bulletin:

"I got here all right. My commission hasn't come, and I've joined
the Rough Riders, for fear it won't get here in time. The Colonel
was very kind to me--called me Mister.

"I've got a lieutenant's uniform of khaki, but I'm keeping it out
of sight. I may have no use for it. I've got two left spurs, and
I'm writing in the Waldorf-Astoria. I like these Northern fellows;
they are gentlemen and plucky--I can see that. Very few of them
swear. I wish I knew where brother is. The Colonel calls everybody
Mister--even the Indians.

"Word comes to-night that we are to be off to the front. Please
send me a piece of cotton to clean my gun. And please be easy about
me--do be easy. And if you insist on giving me a title, don't call
me Private--call me _Trooper_.

"Yes, we are going; the thing is serious. We are all packed up now;
have rolled up camping outfit and are ready to start.

"Baggage on the transport now, and we sail this afternoon. Am sorry
to leave all of you, and I have a tear in my eye now that I can't
keep back. It isn't a summer picnic, and I don't feel like shouting
when I think of home; but I'm always lucky, and I'll come out all
right. I'm afraid I sha'n't see brother at all. I tried to look
cheerful for my picture (enclosed). Good-by.

"Some delay; actually on board and steam up.

"Waiting--waiting--waiting. It's bad enough to go to Cuba in boats
like these, but to lie around for days is trying. No one goes
ashore, and I can hear nothing of brother. I wonder why the General
didn't give him that commission instead of me. There is a curious
sort of fellow here, who says he knows brother. His name is
Blackford, and he is very kind to me. He used to be a regular, and
he says he thinks brother took his place in the --th and is a
regular now himself--a private; I don't understand. There is mighty
little Rough Riding about this.

"P. S.--My bunkie is from Boston--Bob Sumner. His father _commanded
a negro regiment in a fight once against my father_; think of it!

"Hurrah! we're off."

It was a tropical holiday--that sail down to Cuba--a strange, huge
pleasure-trip of steamships, sailing in a lordly column of three; at
night, sailing always, it seemed, in a harbour of brilliant lights under
multitudinous st