p-stool, whistles a little stanza
of schottische, and with a big flourish of his pen, writes the major-
general's name in small letters, and his own--the adjutant's--in very
large letters, bringing the pen under it with tremendous flourishes,
and writes approved and forwarded. You feel relieved. You feel that the
anaconda's coil had been suddenly relaxed. Then you start out to the
lieutenant-general; you find him. He is in a very learned and dignified
conversation about the war in Chili. Well, you get very anxious for the
war in Chili to get to an end. The general pulls his side-whiskers,
looks wise, and tells his adjutant to look over it, and, if correct,
sign it. The adjutant does not deign to condescend to notice you.
He seems to be full of gumbo or calf-tail soup, and does not wish his
equanimity disturbed. He takes hold of the document, and writes the
lieutenant-general's name, and finishes his own name while looking in
another direction--approved and forwarded. Then you take it up to the
general; the guard stops you in a very formal way, and asks, "What do you
want?" You tell him. He calls for the orderly; the orderly gives it to
the adjutant, and you are informed that it will be sent to your colonel
tonight, and given to you at roll-call in the morning. Now, reader,
the above is a pretty true picture of how I got my furlough.

I GET A FURLOUGH

After going through all the formality of red-tapeism, and being snubbed
with tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee, I got my furlough. When it started out,
it was on the cleanest piece of paper that could be found in Buck
Lanier's sutler's store. After it came back, it was pretty well used up,
and looked as if it had gone through a very dark place, and been beat
with a soot-bag. But, anyhow, I know that I did not appreciate my
furlough half as much as I thought I would. I felt like returning it to
the gentlemen with my compliments, declining their kind favors. I felt
that it was unwillingly given, and, as like begets like, it was very
unwillingly received. Honestly, I felt as if I had made a bad bargain,
and was keen to rue the trade. I did not know what to do with it; but,
anyhow, I thought I would make the best of a bad bargain. I got on the
cars at Dalton--now, here is a thing that I had long since forgotten
about--it was the first first-class passenger car that I had been in
since I had been a soldier. The conductor passed around, and handed me
a ticket w