went to look for my absentees, and away up in the top story of the lower station house I saw them, their heads reaching out of the “ten of diamonds” and begging to be released.  After much red tape, I had them turned out, and this incident only added to the ill will of the two parties.  After the soldiers began to congregate and recount their grievances as they thought, they used the city guards pretty roughly the remainder of our stay.  But the most of all these differences were in the nature of “fun,” as the soldiers termed it, and only to give spice to the soldier’s life.

There were two young Captains in the Third, who, both together, would only make one good man, physically.  So small in stature were they that on some previous occasion they had agreed to “whip the first man they ever met that they thought small enough to tackle.”  This personage they had never as yet met, but walking down King street they entered a little saloon kept by a Jew.  The Jew could scarcely see over the counter, so low was he, but otherwise well developed.  On seeing the little Jew, the two young officers eyed each other and said one gleefully: 

“John, here’s our man.”

“Yes, yes,” said D, “You tackle him in front and I’ll leg him in rear.  By all that’s sacred, we can say we whipped one man, at least.”

So telling the little Jew of their agreement, and that they thought he was the man they were looking for, ordered him out to take his medicine like a little man.  The Jew took it good humoredly and told the officers he was their friend and did not care to fight them, etc.  But the officers persisted so, to “humor them and to show friendship for the young men,” said he would “accommodate them.”  At that the Jew struck out with his right on John’s jaw, hitting the ceiling with the little officer.  Then with his left he put one in the pit of D.’s stomach, lifting him clear of the floor and dropping him across a lot of barrels.  Then John was ready by this time to receive a “header” under the chin, piling him on top of D. The boys crawled out as he was preparing to finish up the two in fine style, but—­

“Hold on! hold on! young man,” cried both in a breath, “we are not mad; we are only in fun; don’t strike any more.”

“All right,” said the Jew, “if you are satisfied I am.  Come let’s have a drink.”

So all three took a friendly sip, and as the two wiser, if not stronger, young men left the shop, one said to the other: 

“We’ll have to get a smaller man yet before we can say we whipped anybody.”

“You are right,” said the other; “I was never worse mistaken in all my life in the size of the man, or he grew faster after he began to fight than anything I ever saw.  He stretched out all over, like a bladder being blown up.”

They found out afterwards that the Jew was a professional boxer, and was giving lessons to the young men of the city.