THE COL-O-NEL OF THIS POST?

I was seated one day in the telegraph office at Beverly. Prince was
the telegrapher, and he was communicating with some female at
Buckhannon, telling her to come over on the next train. While enjoying
a lump of white sugar dissolved in hot water, sent by Uncle Peter
Thomson, especially to cure my cold, a big, brawny Irishman entered
the office, and, as I was rigged out in the Secession uniform of
Captain Ezzard, of the Gate City Guards, Atlanta, Georgia, I was
mistaken for a general by the said Irishman, who accosted me much
after this style:

"Good mornin' to ye, sur. And how are yees dis mornin'?"

"Good morning, sir," said I.

"Sure, sir," said he; "are you the Col-o-nel of this post? for it was
him I was towld to ax for--for a pass to get to see my wife, who lives
five miles away from here, adjoining the white church, forninst the
first woods to the right as you go to Huttonsville."

As soon as he finished his speech I informed him I was not the
Col-o-nel, but that Colonel William Bosley was the gentleman he must
see. I told him, moreover, that "the Colonel was a very cross man;
very strict in his discipline: if he didn't approach him "just so," he
would very likely refuse any pass, and kick him into the bargain."

"Thank you, sur; thank you, sur. O, but I'll approach him right. Never
fear me!"

I pointed him to the marquee, in front of which was a large stake, or
post, for hitching horses.

"There," said I, "you see; that's the post."

"Well, sur; plaise to tell me what I must do?"

"You must go three times round the post; make your bow; place your
hands behind you; walk to the entrance of his tent, and inquire, 'If
he commands that post?' Tell him you want to see your wife, and the
pass, no doubt, will be given you."

The Irishman did as requested. Colonel Bosley said he knew there was a
joke up, and humored it; and after putting all sorts of grotesque
questions to the man, he was allowed to go on his way, rejoicing.

HIGH PRICE OF BEANS IN CAMP--A LITTLE GAME OF "DRAW."

Beans were excessively high, one season, in our army. I have seen
Charley Brutton and Lieutenant Southgate and Captain Frank Ehrman, and
other officers, pay as high as five cents apiece for them. Brutton
said he intended to make bean-soup of his. Often, while I stood
looking at parties around a table, I heard remarks like these:

"Ten beans better than you."

I suppose he meant that his ten beans