Old Stonnicker and Colonel Marrow, of 3d Ohio — General Garnett and his Dogs — "Are You the Col-o-nel of This Post?" — Profanity in the Army — High Price of Beans in Camp — A Little Game of "draw."

Old Stonnicker and Colonel Marrow, of 3d Ohio.

A Peculiar specimen of the "genus Virginia" had a great deal of trouble while our army was encamped at Elkwater. Stonnicker's fences and sugar-camp were used for fire-wood, corn-field for fodder, apple-trees stripped.

Stonnicker's family were sick. One of his oldest gals had the "soger's fever." He "guessed she must o' cotched it from either the 3d Ohio or 17th Ingeeana Regiment, as the officers kept a comin' there so much."

One day he sent for Colonel Marrow, and the Colonel obeying the summons, Stonnicker said:

"Colonel, one of my children is dead, and I haven't any thing to bury the child in."

The Colonel, a kind-hearted gentleman, had a neat coffin made; lent the old man horses and an ambulance, and attended personally to the burial, at which the old man took on "amazingly."

An hour or two after the funeral, old Stonnicker strolled up to the Colonel's quarters."Colonel," said he, as the tears rolled down his cheeks; "Colonel, what shall I do?"

The Colonel, thinking he was mourning over the loss of his lately-buried child, replied:

"O, bear up under such trials like a man."

"Wal, I know I orto; but, Colonel, can't you do something for me? It is too bad! I feel so miserable! Boo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!"

"O, come, be a man," said the Colonel; "any thing I can do for you shall be done, willingly."

"O, Colonel! I knowed it; I knowed it. My old woman allers said you was a fust-rate feller; and, Colonel, ef you'll only pay me for them two stacks of hay your men took from my field, I shall be mighty glad, for I want the money."

It is needless to say that the Colonel's sympathies instantly ceased, and, turning on his heel, he might have been heard to say, "O, d——n you and your hay."

General Garnett and His Dogs.

It was said by the boys that at the battle in which General Garnett was killed, a favorite dog of his was with him on the field. During the three months following I saw not less than fifty dogs, each one said, positively, to be the identical dog belonging to the rebel general.

Are You the Col-o-nel of this Post?

I was seated one day in the telegraph office at Beverly. Prince was the telegrapher, and he was communicating with some female at Buckhannon, telling her to come over on the next train. While enjoying a lump of white sugar dissolved in hot water, sent by Uncle Peter Thomson, especially to cure my cold, a big, brawny Irishman entered the office, and, as I was rigged out in the Secession uniform of Captain Ezzard, of the Gate City Guards, Atlanta, Georgia, I was mistaken for a general by the said Irishman, who accosted me much after this style:

"Good mornin' to ye, sur. And how are yees dis mornin'?"

"Good morning, sir," said I.

"Sure, sir," said he; "are you the Col-o-nel of this post? for it was him I was towld to ax for—for a pass to get to see my wife, who lives five miles away from here, adjoining the white church, forninst the first woods to the right as you go to Huttonsville."

As soon as he finished his speech I informed him I was not the Col-o-nel, but that Colonel William Bosley was the gentleman he must see. I told him, moreover, that "the Colonel was a very cross man; very strict in his discipline: if he didn't approach him "just so," he would very likely refuse any pass, and kick him into the bargain."

"Thank you, sur; thank you, sur. O, but I'll approach him right. Never fear me!"

I pointed him to the marquee, in front of which was a large stake, or post, for hitching horses.

"There," said I, "you see; that's the post."

"Well, sur; plaise to tell me what I must do?"

"You must go three times round the post; make your bow; place your hands behind you; walk to the entrance of his tent, and inquire, 'If he commands that post?' Tell him you want to see your wife, and the pass, no doubt, will be given you."

The Irishman did as requested. Colonel Bosley said he knew there was a joke up, and humored it; and after putting all sorts of grotesque questions to the man, he was allowed to go on his way, rejoicing.

High Price of Beans in Camp—a Little Game of "Draw."

Beans were excessively high, one season, in our army. I have seen Charley Brutton and Lieutenant Southgate and Captain Frank Ehrman, and other officers, pay as high as five cents apiece for them. Brutton said he intended to make bean-soup of his. Often, while I stood looking at parties around a table, I heard remarks like these:

"Ten beans better than you."

I suppose he meant that his ten beans were better than his opponent's ten beans. Then some one of the party, seated at the end of the table, would say:

"I see them ten beans."

Well, so did I, and everybody else about there. We couldn't help but see them. Why, therefore, need he make so superfluous a remark? Then the other would say:

"I call you."

But I didn't hear him call. All he would do was, to lay his beans on the pile in the middle of the table, and soon they all spread out some pictures and dots that were printed on white pasteboard. Then one man reaches out his hand and draws over the beans to his side; and he smiles complacently, and all the others look beat and crabbed. And this they call a little game of draw.

Charley Clark and Captain Westcott say 'tis a bad practice; and they ought to know.

Profanity in the Army.

It is astonishing how rapidly men in the service become profane. I never before appreciated the oft-quoted phrase, "He swears like a trooper." Young men whom I have noticed, in times gone by, for their urbanity and quiet demeanor, now use language unbecoming gentlemen upon any occasion. But here it is overlooked, because "everybody does it;" but, to my mind,

"'Tis a custom more honored in the breach than the observance."

Gambling, too! O, how they take to it! "O, it's just for pastime," says one. Yes; but it is a pastime that will grow and grow, and drag many a one to ruin. Among the many ways that the boys have of evading the law against it in camp is, going off into the woods and taking a "quiet game," as they term it. Chuck-a-luck, sweat-cloth, and every species of device for swindling are resorted to by the baser sort.[Back to Contents]