him. Henry of Navarre, seeing his adversary's blunder, and delighted at the prospect of out-generalling his great rival, promptly seized upon all the passes, and Parma found himself completely hemmed in by the Rivers Seine and Eu and the French forces. But the great captain, although suffering from a wound received at the siege of Candebec, and from a fever, did not lose heart or hope. There appeared no means of escape, and Henry impatiently awaited the surrender of the whole Spanish army. What, then, was his astonishment, one morning, after he had been amused the previous day with a sharp cavalry engagement, the seeming prelude to a general action, to behold the army of his adversary on the other side of the river! Parma had collected a large number of boats, constructed rafts for transporting artillery and baggage, thrown re-enforcements into the besieged town, and cleared the Seine of several Dutch shipsof-war by making their anchorage too hot for them. All this had been done with such characteristic rapidity and secrecy that his design was not discovered until the whole movement had been successfully consummated under cover of night and a heavy mist, and the disappointed French king beheld the arms of his supposed captives glittering in the sun on the opposite banks of the Seine. To increase his chagrin, Farnese sent him the same day a message inquiring what he thought of his last manœuvre. His army now returned unmolested to the Netherlands, but he was unable to proceed further than Arras, where be died from the effect of his wound, December 3, 1592, in the forty-seventh year of his age. By his marriage with Mary of Portugal he left a daughter and two sons, the eldest of whom, Ranuzio, was his successor. A noble bronze equestrian statue of him, by John of Bologna, one of the finest we saw in Italy, adorns the principal public square of Placenza.

The Duke of Parma was a man of consummate military and diplomatic genius, and certainly had no superior, if, indeed, he had an equal, among the great captains of the sixteenth century, and, if posterity can forgive him the fault of being the potent and active instrument of such a character as Philip II. of Spain in his most iniquitous designs, as well as pardon his arbitrary principles in consideration of his age and birth, his moral character will merit our admiration no less than his military.

SKETCHES OF ARMY LIFE.

BY ANNIE E. FOXON.

AFTER a month passed in our National Capital, in being tossed like an India-rubber ball from the Provost Marshal to the Secretary of War, from the Secretary of War to Senator, and from Senator to the Secretary of War again, one afternoon a negro waiter rapped at the door of my room in the Metropolitan, and handed in a slip of paper, upon which were printed in unmistakable characters these words:

"Mrs. John Smith has permission to visit her husband in the 35th Regiment, 16th Corps, Army of the Potomac," &c.

Eight hours' ride in one of the military trains which left Washington for our army, in the winter of '63, gave one ample opportunity to see one phase of army life. At the station was a heterogeneous mass of soldiers, officers, muskets, boxes, bags of grain, women in consternation because they had neglected to have their passes stamped, sleek-headed civilians, hackmen, and agents to the army, all running, hurrying, and hallooing, and general disorder ruling all. There were box cars for privates, and one or two passenger cars, with hard, narrow, leatherbacked seats, for officers and ladies. Here was a group playing cards; there a little lieutenant telling stories; in one corner a number were eating; in another, a mysterious bottle was in circulation; everywhere were fun and laughter. The train crept slowly along through the mist and dampness, until the scenery changed from houses and civilians to tents, barracks, and soldiers. Thus we travelled until Bealton Station was reached. Bealton Station! It consisted of a switch for the train, a platform, and mud. But where were the long line of tents, groups of soldiers, gayly dressed horsemen, and cannon, which my crude imagination had pictured as the embodiment of army life? A number of soldiers covered with mud, an ambulance to the hubs of its wheels in mud, and mud extending indefinitely in every direction, met the eye. "Jump into this man's arms, Alice," I heard; and jumping accordingly into the arms of a stout wagoner, who stood nearly knee high in mud, I was placed in an ambulance, and my husband's arms were around me, and the kiss of welcome repaid me for my lugubrious entrance into camp-life.

We waded two miles through mud, until, over the brow of a hill, a camp near some woods, and six or eight dilapidated houses with broken windows, fences half torn down, out-buildings which stood by leaning against each other, and a church minus windows and doors, were visible. This was Liberty-a

Virginia town. Liberty was written upon every board-the liberty to be governed by no law of order or thrift. A small two-story house, in which lived a secesh family, was to be our boarding place. The hostess, a muscular, honest-looking woman, led us to a small room with unmatched, old-fashioned furniture, and an open fire-place with big logs crackling and emitting heat and light.

Then came a hospitable supper of eggs, chickens, baked 'possum, hoecake, coffee, and preserve-served by a little piece of the "peculiar institution "ten years old, whose little black eyes, peered curiously at "de Yankee woman." There was a bed in the dining-room, and, much to my amazement, the provisions were taken from under it. The host, a gray-eyed, wiry man, too old for service, remained at home to protect his property, and, as the wife was the better half, he did no harm. Being named Horace Hammond, his wife abbreviated it to H. H., or more frequently H., and if one wanted a favor of him and he was absent, she would, say "Go to H. for it."

The adjutant of the regiment, a smart, cheery fellow, drank whisky splendidly; and one day an Irish soldier from a neighboring camp standing near, when he was moistening his lips, after gazing in open-mouthed wonder, exclaimed, "Be gorra, an' it's the 9th Regiment ye ought to belong to, for it's a beautitiful swallow ye have."

The quartermastér (unlike most quartermasters) was rather a wicked man, and one day he put his head into the surgeon's tent with, "Doctor, why don't you swear?" "Swear? because I've nothing to swear for." "Oh," said the quartermaster, "I put a board over your chimney half an hour ago, and dropped percussion caps through the chinks."

One night he forged an order to move, coming in with, "Just from the colonel's tent, and we are to be ready to move by 11 P. M. So what will you do with your wife? Shall I take her, and strike for country and home?" After considerable trouble and inconvenience it eked out that the quartermaster had been up to his usual tricks.

Invitations came one morning for the Masons of field and staff to meet at a Union Lodge held at brigade head-quarters; the wives of said Masons being invited to a supper after the meeting. At 5 P. M., we left camp well mounted. Riding along the line of the railroad, we passed the Fifth Corps artillery with its cleanly-swept grounds, over a broad plain, across which we could see an extent of thirty miles of the Blue Ridge Mountains, their snow-capped summits glistening in the setting sun, while broad shadows were cast at their base. We passed little camps with evergreen arches and arbors, and unique log houses; forded the Rappahannock; rode through woods where no sound broke the solemn stillness, past miserable quarters

where poor whites lived, saw deserted homes with desolation everywhere, and everywhere the trail of the army.

Once my horse tripped a little, and, looking down beneath his feet, I saw, all alone, unmarked, with only the sunshine or rain to fall upon it, a soldier's grave. At home a wife or mother wept for her soldier, who slept as peacefully there as if the prayers of loved ones had consecrated his last resting-place. Reveille had sounded when we reached the Lodge, a chapel built of rough logs, and by the light of the camp-fires we could see scores of tents, with groups of soldiers scattered about, cooking, wrestling, and some singing. As we ladies were there, extra guards were put on the chapel, so I can't tell exactly what they did; only this I vouch for: Captain H. was initiated, and they came in the course of the evening for a rope, and after the initiation his face was very red. We staid in the surgeon's tent, and it presented a pretty scene, with bright fire, pine chairs; and upon a pine bedstead slept the doctor's rosy-cheeked boy, and a pet kitten curled up on the foot of the bed. Children were welcome visitants of camp, and the soldiers put this little one in a miniature uniform. One day he strayed from home, and, marching bravely up to a sentinel, lisped in his baby voice: "Please, soldier, show me the way to head-quarters, Second Brigade, First Division, Fifth Corps?"

After the meeting we were ushered into the major's tent, where a good supper was spread. Hot meats, fruits, oysters, coffee, and cakes."

There a gray-haired colonel from the Keystone State welcomed his brother masons to the Lodge. All who were present remember the spirited speeches which followed. Alas! many of those brave men have been admitted to a higher Lodge. The major laid his brave young life in the Wilderness, and Captain H. went into the conflict in the ensuing May-but we never heard from him afterward. Then around that humble board we stood, all praying for the same noble cause, and raised our voices in song: "America," "Sweet Home," and "Auld Lang Syne" rang out; then those who had met to unite anew bonds of brotherhood and patriotism separated, never to meet again this side the grave.

The night was dark when we set out on our return, and, giving our horses the rein, we rode silently along, avoiding the picket line (for it delayed us to be challenged frequently), and keeping near the woods. Suddenly, "Unhand me, villain, dismount, were heard, but on approaching, we found the quartermaster looking very much amused-and we knew he was trying to appear funny.

One of the guards near home had, unknown to some of us, been relieved, and the doctor, riding in advance, being challenged, as he had not the countersign, rode back to get it; then again riding

forward, dismounted, gave the pass word. "Go ahead, doctor," said the quartermaster, in his natural voice. The doctor, aimed a kick at him, but he was not there, and we did not see him for a couple of days, when he borrowed-without asking—a book we were reading.

On the 16th March, General Bartlett and staff gave a grand ball-buildings we improvised, "and bright the lamp shone o'er fair women and brave men.' "Many participants remained to take part in the celebration of the 17th, St. Patrick's Day. The morning dawned pleasantly, and at an early hour, from every direction, people were wending their way to the camp of the 9th. There were soldiers on foot, some mounted on mules, officers and ladies on spirited horses, ambulances full of laughing girls, and at noon General Bartlett and a brilliant train arrived.

The camp was dressed in holiday atire; arbors and hedges of evergreen enclosed all. The gateways were lofty arches of green, with figures of the eagle (see Natural History of Birds), harps, corps badges, and national emblems, wrought of scarlet berries and green. The quarters of Colonel G. were very elaborate, and looked like fairy land, so much dainty work adorned them.

The race-course was levelled off, hurdles were erected, and the Irish soldiers hilarious and noisy. One soldier had taught a mule to jump the hurdle, and he performed his part very well. There were bag races, climbing greased poles, and running horses. One magnificent gray horse must have weighed nearly twelve hundred pounds; he was high and broad, with a fine head, broad chest, and a splendid traveller. But my dear little brownie held her head high, and travelled up and down the long course like a bird. I never saw such a gay scene before; it reminded one of the tournaments Scott describes. Handsome men in gay uniform, graceful ladies with badges on their jaunty hats, pretty romping girls, the splendid horses who seemed conscious of their beauty, the soldiers free for one day from the restraints of camp, all form a pleasant picture long to be remembered. Many good soldiers I did not see again until the winter of '64, when they were brought in wounded to our hospital, but they were as plucky in suffering as they had been careless in gayety.

Thus the days sped on; the bugle-call our guide, reveille calling us from slumber, and tattoo warning us to rest..

QUINCY, MASS., 1865.

VOL. IV.-34