We would be even glad to hear "guard" and "drill" sounded; and there would be music in the disconsolate "surgeon's call:" "Come-get-your-q-n-i-n-i-n-e; come, get your quinine; It'll make you sad: It'll make you sick.

Come, come." O, if we were only back, what admirable soldiers we would be! One morning, about three or four o'clock, we were awakened by the ground shaking and a series of heavy, dull thumps sounding oft seaward.
Our silver-voiced bugler seemed to be awakened, too.

He set the echoes ringing with a vigorously played "reveille;" a minute later came an equally earnest "assembly," and when "boots and saddles" followed, we knew that all was not well in Denmark; the thumping and shaking now had a significance.

It meant heavy Yankee guns somewhere near.

We heard the gunners hitching up; the bugle signal "forward," the wheels roll off, and for a half hour afterwards we caught the receding sound of the bugle commanding "right turn," "left turn," etc., as the batteries marched away.