sfactory, but it was probably
the best that could be furnished, under the circumstances. Each man was
given an oyster-can full of what seemed to be beef-soup, with some rice
or barley grains in it. By the time it got around to us there was
usually a thin crust of cold tallow on the top, and the mere looks of
the mess was enough to spoil one's appetite,--if he had any. One
evening, Wallace and I were sitting side by side with our backs against
a tree, when an attendant came to us and gave each one his can of the
decoction above mentioned. It was comical to see the look of disgust
that came over the face of poor Enoch. He turned towards me, and
tilting his can slightly to enable me to see the contents, spoke thus:
"Now, ain't this nice stuff to give a sick man? I've a good notion to
throw the whole business in that fellow's face;" (referring to the
attendant). "The trouble with you, Enoch," I said, "is that you are
losing your patriotism, and I shouldn't be surprised if you'd turn
Secesh yet. Kicking on this rich, delicious soup! Next thing you'll be
ordering turtle-soup and clamoring for napkins and finger-bowls. You
remind me of a piece of poetry I have read somewhere, something like
this:

'Jeshurun waxed fat,
And down his belly hung,
Against the government he kicked,
And high his buttocks flung'."

The poor old fellow leaned back against the tree, and indulged in a
long, silent laugh that really seemed to do him good. I would joke with
him, after this fashion, a good deal, and long afterwards he told me
that he believed he would have died on that march if I hadn't kept his
spirits up by making ridiculous remarks. (In speaking of Wallace as
"old," the word is used in a comparative sense, for the fact is he was
only about thirty-four years of age at this time.)

On the evening of September 9th, the sick of our division bivouacked by
the side of a small bayou, in a dense growth of forest trees. Next
morning the rumor spread among us that on that day a battle was
impending, that our advance was close to the Confederates, and that a
determined effort would be made for the capture of Little Rock. Sure
enough, during the forenoon, the cannon began to boom a few miles west
of us, and our infantry was seen rapidly moving in that direction. As I
lay there helpless on the ground, I could not avoid worrying somewhat
about the outcome of the battle. If our forces should be defeated, we
sick fellows would c