“Stolen waters are sweet,” says high authority, but some of our regiment seemed to set a higher value upon stolen liquor.  While the whiskey ration was continued, there was little drunkenness.  The men were satisfied with the limited amount given, and the general health of all was good.  When the spirit ration was stopped, illicit trade in the “crathur” was carried on by Jews and peddlers, who hung around the camp a short distance out in the woods.  The search after these traders by the authorities was so vigilant, that at last there was no whiskey vended nearer than the little town of Covington, eight miles distant.  This, however, did not deter the men from making frequent trips to this place after it.  Various expedients were resorted to, in order to bring it inside of the guard-lines.  Some stopped the tubes on their guns, and filled the barrel with liquor.  The colonel, while passing a tent one day, saw one of the men elevate his gun and take a long pull at the muzzle.  He called out, “Pat, what have you got in your gun?  Whiskey?”

He answered—­“Colonel, I was looking into the barrel of my gun to see whether she was clean.”

The colonel walked on, muttering something about the curiosity of a man’s eyes being located in his mouth.  He was no sooner out of sight than Pat inspected his weapon again, and from the sigh of regret which escaped him as he lowered it, I judged that it was “clean dry.”

During our stay at Fort Wright, we were all thrown into commotion one day by a mutiny, which for a time threatened very serious consequences.  Some of the members of Captain Cosset’s company, of our regiment, having found a treasure in the shape of a barrel of whiskey, which an unlucky trader had not concealed securely from their vigilance, got drunk, “ov coorse,” and determined to show their independence of military rule by absenting themselves from evening dress-parade.  The colonel, noticing the small number present from this company, instructed Lieutenant Beard, then acting captain, to have all the absentees arrested and sent to the guard-house.  When parade was dismissed, and the company returned to their quarters, the lieutenant gave the order to one of the sergeants, who was himself intoxicated.  On attempting to carry out the order, the sergeant was badly beaten by one of the offenders.  A private in the company by the name of Whalen, here interfered and rescued the sergeant from the hands of his assailant.  At this moment the regimental quartermaster, Isaac Saffarrens, a brother of the redoubtable hero of Belmont, whose deeds of valor will be duly chronicled, appeared on the scene of action, and attempted to arrest the man Whalen, whose only crime had been committed in saving the sergeant from further beating.  Whalen told him that he would not be arrested, as he had not created any disturbance.  The quartermaster then tried to seize him, and was knocked down for his trouble.  By this time a crowd of officers had