id it. '_The
Seventh_,' every throat shouts. Then such a cheer, and such another, and
such another after that, and such a tiger after that, and such other
cheers and such other tigers!--until the train stops, and, regardless of
orders, unheeding the vain protests of the captain or the curses of the
lieutenants, or the objurgations of Sergeant Files, we rush madly,
pellmell, from the cars. Everybody shakes hands with the Seventh man,
and with everybody else. He is thirsty: sixty odd flasks are uncorked
and jammed at him. Hungry, too? The men hustle him into the cars, and
almost into the barrels of pork and bread, with which we came provided
in quantities sufficient, as we thought in our simplicity, for a siege,
though really, as I have since found reason to believe, amounting to
less than a thousand rations.

'Where is the Seventh?' 'At the Junction.' We are only a mile from the
Junction. All aboard again, and we steam up to the Junction, just in
time to see the leading companies file into the station, from their
historical march--famous from being the first of the war, twice famous
because Winthrop told its story; in time to see the Eighth Massachusetts
follow our favorite heroes; in time to bring the Seventh to Washington;
in time thus to terminate the dark hours of anxious suspense and doubt
that followed the 19th of April and the drawing of the first blood in
the streets of Baltimore.

Dulness succeeds this spurt of glory, and there is nothing more
interesting than guarding the Long Bridge or a steamboat, alternating
with drills, drills, drills! We are initiated into the mystery of the
double quick, under knapsacks and overcoats. Men begin to be detailed on
extra duty. More men are detailed on extra duty. Doctor Peacack makes
his appearance. The sick list becomes an institution. It is curious to
notice how the same men, detailed for guard, police, or fatigue, appear
on the sick list, and, being excused by the mild Peacack, straightway
reappear in the 'cocktail squad.' But a wink, as good as a nod, from the
captain, and the fragrant oil of the castor bean, prescribed to be taken
on the spot, soon corrects these little discrepancies. The guardhouse
becomes an institution. Todd second is a frequent inmate; he will drink.
Swilliams is another, who takes a drink, and becomes insane; takes
another, and becomes sick; takes another, and then a quiet snooze, with
his head resting on the nearest curb. We call these unfortunat