our pickets and night. It was soon noised in camp that there was
a fine fat porker to be distributed after tattoo, and no little
eagerness and inquisitiveness were manifested, as all wished a piece.
Armed with a crocus-sack, we returned to the house; all was dark and
still. We whistled the signal, but no answer. It was repeated, but
still no reply. The guard had not come. Sitting down on the door step,
we began our long wait. Moments passed into minutes, minutes into
hours, until at last we began to have some forebodings and misgivings.
Had we been betrayed? Would we be reported and our tents searched next
day? Hardly; a soldier could not be so treacherous. We entered the
cellar and began to fumble around without results, a match was struck,
and to our unspeakable dismay not a vestige of hog remained. Stuck
against the side of the wall was a piece of paper, on which was
written: "No mercy for the hog rogue." Such swearing, such stamping
and beating the air with our fists, in imitation of the punishment
that would be given the treacherous rascals if present; the atmosphere
was perfectly sulphurous with the venom spit out against the foul
party. Here was a true verification of the old adage, "Set a rogue
to catch a rogue." Dejected and crestfallen, we returned to camp,
but dared not tell of our misfortune, for fear of the jeers of our
comrades.

Measles and jaundice began to scourge the camp; the green corn, it was
said, did the army more damage than the enemy did in battle. Wagons
and ambulances went out daily loaded with the sick; the hospitals
were being crowded in Richmond and other cities; hotels, colleges, and
churches were appropriated for hospital service, and the good people
of Virginia can never be forgotten, nor amply rewarded for the
self-sacrifices and aid rendered to the sick soldiers. Private houses
were thrown open to the sick when their homes were far distant, or