In a few days we have all become very learned in camp-life.  We have found out what we want and what we do not want.  Fortunately, St. Louis is near at hand, and we send there to provide for our necessities, and also to get rid of our superfluities.  The troops have been gathering all the week.  There are several regiments in front of us, and batteries of artillery behind us.  Go where you will, spread out upon the plain or shining amidst the trees you will see the encampments.  Head-quarters are busy providing for the transportation and the maintenance of this great force; and as rapidly as the railway can carry them, regiment after regiment is sent west.  There is plenty of work for the staff-officers; and yet our life is not without its pleasures.  The horses and their riders need training.  This getting used to the saddle is no light matter for the civilian spoiled by years of ease and comfort.  But the General gives all his officers plenty of horseback discipline.  Then there is the broadsword exercise to fill up the idle time.  Evening is the festive hour in camp; though I judge, from what I have seen and heard, that our camp has little of the gayety which is commonly associated with the soldier’s life.  We are too busy for merrymaking, but in the evening there are pleasant little circles around the fires or in the snug tents.  There are old campaigners among us, men who have served in Mexico and Utah, and others whose lives have been passed upon the Plains; they tell us campaign stories, and teach the green hands the slang and the airs of the camp.  But the unfailing amusement is the band.  This is the special pride of the General, and soon after nightfall the musicians appear upon the little plaza around which the tents are grouped.  At the first note the audience gather.  The guardsmen come up from their camp on the edge of the ravine, the negro-quarter is deserted, the wagoners flock in from the surrounding forest, the officers stroll out of their tents,—­a picturesque crowd stands around the huge camp-fire.  The programme is simple and not often varied.  It uniformly opens with “The Star-Spangled Banner,” and closes with “Home, Sweet Home.”  By way of a grand finale, a procession is organized every night, led by some score of negro torch-bearers, which makes the circuit of the camp,—­a performance which never fails to produce something of a stampede among the animals.

Last night we had an alarm.  About eleven o’clock, when the camp was fairly asleep, some one tried to pass a picket half a mile west of us.  The guard fired at the intruder, and in an instant the regimental drums sounded the long roll.  We started from our beds, with frantic haste buckled on swords, spurs, and pistols, hurried servants after the horses, and hastened to report for duty to the General.  The officer who was first to appear found him standing in front of his tent, himself the first man in camp who was ready for service.  Presently a messenger came with information as to the cause of the alarm, and we were dismissed.