ike for all. They do it as well for the sinner
as for the saint,--as well for the traitorous Secessionist striving to
destroy his country as for the patriot endeavoring to sustain it.

In neither case is it a matter of will, but of necessity. The amount of
power to be generated in both living and dead machines is simply a
question of quality and quantity of provision for the purpose. So much
food, air, protection given produce so much strength. A proposition to
reduce the amount of either of these necessarily involves the
proposition to reduce the available force. Whoever determines to eat or
give his men less or poorer food, or impure air, practically determines
to do less work. In all this management of the human body, we are sure
to get what we pay for, and we are equally sure not to get what we do
not pay for.

All Governments have tried, and are now, in various degrees, trying, the
experiment of privation in their armies. The soldier cannot carry with
him the usual means and comforts of home. He must give these up the
moment he enters the martial ranks, and reduce his apparatus of living
to the smallest possible quantity. He must generally limit himself to a
portable house, kitchen, cooking-apparatus, and wardrobe, and to an
entire privation of furniture, and sometimes submit to a complete
destitution of everything except the provision he may carry in his
haversack and the blanket he can carry on his back. When stationary, he
commonly sleeps in barracks; but he spends most of his time in the field
and sleeps in tents. Occasionally he is compelled to sleep in the open
air, without any covering but his blanket, and to cook in an
extemporized kitchen, which he may make of a few stones piled together
or of a hole in the earth, with only a kettle, that he carries on his
back, for cooking-apparatus. In all cases and conditions, whether in
fort or in field, in barrack, tent, or open air, he is limited to the
smallest artificial habitation, the least amount of furniture and
conveniences, the cheapest and most compact food, and the rudest
cookery. He is, therefore, never so well protected against the elements,
nor, when sleeping under cover, so well supplied with air for
respiration, as he is at home. Moreover, when lodging abroad, he cannot
take his choice of places; he is liable, from the necessities of war, to
encamp in wet and malarious spots, and to be exposed to chills and
miasms of unhealthy districts. He is necessa