sing of which he had been charged by Major-General Governor Morgan,
was in a high state of discipline as well as fully up to the maximum in
numbers, and burning to go down to the field of carnage and revenge the
deaths of those foully slaughtered by rebel hands.

It may be interesting to know exactly what _was_ the condition of the
Two Hundredth Regiment, at that exact time--how many it numbered--what
was its proficiency in drill--what was the appearance of the camp at
which it was quartered--and how laboriously Colonel Crawford was engaged
in bringing it up to the highest standard of perfection for citizen
soldiery. For this purpose, it will be well to look in at the
encampment, with the eyes of some persons from the city who visited it
on Sunday the 29th of June--the very day on which McClellan, from sheer
lack of troops, abandoned the White House, necessarily destroying so
much valuable property, losing for the time the last hope of the capture
of Richmond, and falling back on the line of the James River.

The Two Hundredth Regiment lay at "Camp Lyon," (as it may be designated
for the purposes of this chronicle)--a locality on Long Island, a few
miles eastward from the City Hall of Brooklyn, and easily accessible by
one of the lines of horse-cars running from Fulton Ferry. It had been
some two months established; recruiting for the regiment was said to be
going on very rapidly; "only a few more men wanted" was the burden of
the song sung in the advertising columns of the morning papers; rations
for some seven hundred men were continually furnished for it, by the
Quartermaster's Department; the Colonel made flattering reports of it
every day or two, to the higher military authorities in the city, and at
least once a week to the still higher authorities at Albany; and a
political Brigadier-General was reported to have gone down and reviewed
it, once or twice, coming back eminently satisfied with its numbers,
discipline and performances.

The visitors from the city, who, having no other connection whatever
with the progress of this story, may be fobbed off with the very
ordinary names of Smith and Brown,--reached the camp at about four
o'clock on that Sunday afternoon, having waited until that late hour in
the day for the purpose of avoiding the noon-tide heat, and being
anxious to be present at the evening drill, which was supposed to take
place in the neighborhood of six o'clock. An acquaintance of theirs, an
office