he's young--but I want a woman to be awfully
religious. It sets her off more'n anything else."

He continued his spelling exercise:

"I am verry glad that my sox reached you all rite, that they
fell into the hands of a braiv, pious Union soldier, and he
found them nice."

"Brave, pious Union soldier," he repeated to himself, with a whistle.
"Jewhilikins, I'm glad Bad Ax, Wis., is so fur away that she never heard
me makin' remarks when a mule-team's stalled. But I must git a brace on
myself, and clean up my langwidge for inspection-day."

He resumed the spelling:

"I done the best I could on them, and moren that no one can
do. Wimmen cant fite in this cruel war, but they ought all
to do what they can. I only wish I could do more. But the
wimmen must stay at home and watch and wait, while the men
go to the front."

"That's all right. Miss Jerusha Ellen Briggs," said he, with more
satisfaction. "You jest stay at home and watch and wait, and I'll try
to do fightin' enough for both of us. I'll put in some extra licks in
future on your account, and they won't miss you from the front."

The next paragraph read:

"I should like to hear more of you and your{162} regiment.
The only time I ever beared of the 200th Indiana regiment
was in a letter writ home by one of our Wisconsin boys and
published in the Bad Ax Grindstone, in which he said they
wuz brigaded with the 200th Indiana, a good fighting
regiment, but which would stele even the shoes off the
brigade mules if they wuzzent watched, and sumtimes when
they wuz. Ime sorry to hear that any Union soldier is a
thief. I know that our boys from Wisconsin would rather die
than stele."

"Steal! The 200th Injianny steal!" Shorty flamed out in a rage. "Them
flabbergasted, knock-kneed, wall-eyed Wisconsin whelps writin' home that
the Injiannians are thieves! The idee o' them longhaired, splay-footed
lumbermen, them chuckleheaded, wap-sided, white-pine butchers talking
about anybody else's honesty. Why, they wuz born stealin'. They never
knowed anything else. They'd steal the salt out o' your hardtack. They'd
steal the lids off the Bible. They talk about the 200th Injiannny! I'd
like to find the liar that writ that letter. I'd literally pound the
head offen him."

It was some time before he could calm himself down sufficiently to
continue his literary exercise. Then he made out: