am sick, that's what I want." Then some other fellow far up or
down the line would answer back, "I want to see my m-o-t-h-e-r, and I am
hungry, too, that's what I want." This was said in a sobbing tone, as if
the speaker were about to burst into tears. It would set the whole
column off, and for half an hour or so there would be a lively time.

If we were passing a residence, either humble or stately, someone would
halt in front of it and "Hello" until he saw a window-sash go up and a
head poked out, with the usual question "What is it you want?" The reply
would be, "Say, Mister, you had better take your chimney in, it's going
to rain." Then before the angry countryman could get his gun the
funmaker would gallop off to his place in the ranks. And thus the night
was passed.

No amount of hardship or deprivation seemed to dampen the ardor of the
cavalier. He always had resources, and when in need, they were drawn
upon; but the horse, like Felix, cared for none of these things. They
seemed to say, "Have all the fun you want, boys, it doesn't disturb us,
but don't forget that when we have crossed the river there will be
something more serious for you to do; we are following the feather of
Stuart tonight." And thus they would trudge on; it mattered not whether
storm or calm, they moved in silence, each horse following the one in
front of him, or yielding to the gentle pressure of the rein if the
rider had occasion to leave the ranks.

Of course, this condition applied only when they were not in proximity
to the enemy. When the bluecoats were about things were different. Every
man had his horse well in hand; the spur and the rein told the horse
where he must go; the men were silent; only the officers spoke.

The horses were fairly well supplied with food until after Gettysburg.
Then when winter came and there was no grass and no growing grain, food
for Lee's 27,000 horses became a serious problem. I have pulled dried
grass in December for my horse until my fingers bled. At other times,
when food was more plentiful, the horse was required to share his food
with his master, particularly in roasting-ear time. Then our rations
were often the same. We cooked ours, while the horse took his green. But
during the winter months, when we needed some kind of beverage to wash
down our hardtack, the only thing we could get was horse feed, which
was roasted and boiled. We called it coffee. It was very good then. We
had to rob our horses