ight I saw a lost soul. Rousing, as I often do, at one o'clock, I
stood at the door of the tent, admiring Orion in the east and the
constellations overhead. I heard a little murmur of complaint, and saw a
man come stumbling down the street, his bare feet softly thudding on the
stones, and drawing from him this sad sound as he came shivering along in
pajamas. He was stooping at each tent and peering in to discover his lost
place. So he passed out of my sight, but when I once more turned to
admire Orion I saw the same unhappy phantom wandering along the next
company street, still stumbling, still shivering, still silently
searching for his couch. As for me, I turned in again and slept.

(Later, and more legible.)

We have broken camp, all the tents being struck; and next we have been
given a lesson in military neatness. Each company has had to police its
street, to fill all tent-ditches and fireplaces, and to pick up each bit
of rubbish and scrap of paper. Our squad having had a meeting upon the
subject, has agreed that immediately upon making up our packs we shall
police our own ground, either bury the rubbish in the ditches or burn it
in the fire, using if necessary a little of our hay, and pile the rest of
the latter as quickly as possible, to get the work over with. This is in
response to the captain's latest, for finding a single scrap of paper as
big as a postage stamp in the street, he turned out a whole squad to pick
it up. Next time, he says, it will be a platoon. We know Kirby too well
by this time to suppose he doesn't mean what he says.

I am writing as I loll on a pile of hay, while my neighbors are
vigorously resenting the demand of the farmer who sold us the hay last
night, that we rise and relinquish it to him--in order that he may sell
it again tonight. Much angry computation as to his profits per ton, and a
warning that, as on account of our ignorance he raised the tariff on us
yesterday, we should never again pay more than ten cents per tent.

(As we stand waiting in rank.)

Orders for today have been issued. The enemy cavalry and machine guns are
at Sciota, some miles north of us. We are to go against them, with our
battalion as advance guard, Company I in the lead, our company supporting
them four hundred yards behind.

(Resting on the road.)

We have been marching at hot speed, having no one to set the pace for
Kirby, now that at last we have passed I company. For a while we had to
wait on the