Of course my sympathies were with the
veterans, and I laughed heartily at their pranks. One of the first to
set the ball in motion was a tall, athletic-looking soldier clad in
jeans pants, with a faded red stripe adorning one leg only, ragged
shoes tied up with twine strings, and a flannel shirt which
undoubtedly had been washed by the Confederate military process
(_i.e._, tied by a string to a bush on the bank of a stream, allowed
to lie in the water awhile, then stirred about with a stick or boat
upon a rock, and hung up to drip and dry upon the nearest bush or tied
to the swaying limb of a tree). "A shocking bad hat" of the slouch
order completed his costume. Approaching a tall specimen of "melish,"
who wore a new homespun suit of "butternut jeans," a gorgeous cravat,
etc., the soldier opened his arms and cried out in intense accents,
"_Let_ me kiss him for his mother!" Another was desired to "come out
of that hat." A big veteran, laying his hand on the shoulder of a
small, scared-looking, little victim, and wiping his own eyes upon his
old hat, whined out, "I _say_, buddy, you didn't bring along no
sugar-teats, did you? I'm got a powerful hankerin' atter some.
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