T may not, perhaps, be inappropriate, or entirely uninteresting, to introduce at this point a sketch of a soldier's life, as seen by a soldier

in the ranks, fresh from home and the quiet

pursuits of civil life, written one magnificent autumn day, when the forest leaves were tinged with parti-colored hues, by a blazing bivouac fire, while awaiting the orders to march, with a knapsack for a seat, a hard-tack box for table and desk, and the broad canopy of heaven for a sanctum. To those who have trudged day after day through Virginia mud and dust, it may serve to call up reminiscences of their campaign-life, and to those who never beheld an army in motion, or in camp, it may afford a moment's recreation.

The site for a brigade or division bivouac, or encampment, is usually selected, when practicable and possible, upon a hillside or gentle slope, with particu

ular reference to convenient proximity to wood and water. The batteries of artillery are posted on commanding eminences near by, where their services would be available in case of an attack, and in such a manner as to be properly supported by the infantry. Upon arriving, the regiments of a brigade are massed in parallel lines; or, according to the natural advantages of the ground,- on the spot designated,-arms are stacked, knapsacks unslung, and without stopping to rest, the men make a grand rush for the nearest rail-fences, which disappear in the twinkling of an eye; and "the places that once knew them, know them no more forever." In less time than the scene can be described miles of Virginia rail-fence will be distributed over the field, and camp-fires innumerable, blazing throughout the encampment.

A soldier's first care, after halting, is to cook his little tin-cup of coffee, which " subtle poison" is considered as indispensable to him as the air he breathes. A cup of strong, black coffee, minus milk, and oftimes made of the muddiest ditch water, will do more towards recuperating and cheering a tired, travel-worn soldier than a person who never tried it can imagine.

In half an hour after arriving, hundreds of little tents spring up as if by magic, and the boys are at home. Five minutes' time is sufficient for an entire army corps to pitch their tents, and they are as speedily struck. Every soldier carries his piece of tent,

and it is but the work of a moment to unpack and pitch them.

Having thus seen the brigade encamped, let us imagine that tattoo has been beat, taps sounded, and the camp in repose; when, rising from a comfortable night's rest upon the ground, and "sweet dreams of peace," at early dawn, we will watch the commencement and close of

A DAY IN CAMP.

Long before "sun-up," the early risers begin to emerge from their holes; the camp-fires, that have slumbered and smouldered through the night, are raked together and rekindled, and preparations for breakfast are commenced. As the first beams of the rising sun begin to tinge the eastern skies, the clear notes of the bugle, sounding reveille from head-quarters are heard,― repeated in turn by the regimental buglers. The drums of one regiment commence their noisy rataplan, which is taken up by the

"Ear piercing fife and spirit stirring drum"

of another, which is in turn echoed by another, till every drum corps of the brigade, with accompanying bugles and fifes, join in the din, and the morning air is resonant with the rattle of drums, the shrill notes of the fife, or the clarion tones of the bugle, sounding reveille.

At the last tap of the drum every man is supposed to be "up and dressed;" the companies are formed, the roll called by the first sergeants, and woe to the absentees! "Extra duty" is the customary punishment of tardiness, and is the horror of a soldier. The roll-call over, the details for the day announced, the morning ablutions duly performed in some neighboring brook, or mud hole, the men proceed to cook their morning repasts, which they discuss with much more satisfaction than the city roue or dissipated exquisite does his sumptuous breakfast, at a late hour, at his first-class hotel.

The "surgeon's call" comes next in the order of the day, and the sick of each company are escorted to the surgeon's tent by the first sergeants; a motley, curious array of faces usually constitutes the group. Many, undoubtedly, are really sick, and need far better treatment than they can receive under the circumstances, while nearly every company has, its constitutional shirks, who invariably report themselves with woful faces and piteous stories in order to be marked "off duty." A surgeon in the army must possess keen discrimination, in order to do full justice to all and prevent imposture by these professional malingerers and shirks.

The morning business over, the men disperse to seek entertainment and amusement, according to their various tastes; and it is indeed amusing to witness the

various expedients to which they will resort to kill time. Gathered in squads around the fires, they engage in reading, writing, smoking, cooking, mending, card-playing, spinning yarns, and listening with undisguised pleasure to recitals of moving scenes by flood and field,

"Of battles fought and victories won,",

related by veterans, who have seen more service in the tented field; exercising their ingenuity in manufacturing from peach stones, bone, or wood, rings and various ornaments and charms, to send to their Dulcineas at home, or wear themselves; or, stretched upon the greensward, they doze and dream of home and other days, until some sort of excitement rouses them; as, for example, when a straggling soldier rouses a sheep or pig in a neighboring field, and drives him into camp,-when half the brigade, shouting like lunatics, join in the pursuit, till the poor beast, flanked, outgeneraled, and overpowered by numbers, scared and tired out, drops down, and falls a victim to the blood-thirsty pursuers, — - who, forthwith, revel in the luxury of fresh pork or mutton.

Or, perhaps the arrival of the mail, one of the most interesting episodes of camp-life, sets the boys on the qui vive. It is entertaining to watch the countenances of the soldiers as they gather around the sergeant to receive their letters. At first every eye beams with eager ex