However, when the soldier was ready to return to camp, Beauregard had grown quite too large to be carried in his master’s bosom.  So he was given to my little son, and remained to claim our care and to become an object of interest to all inmates of the hospital.  It became so much a matter of course for me to take the dog with me on my morning rounds through the wards that whenever he was left behind, my patients never failed to miss him, and to inquire, “Where’s the general to-day?” He was very intelligent, easily learning to trot quietly along down the rows of beds.  If he ever grew too frisky, I had only to stop short, pointing to the entrance, when down would drop his tail, and he was off like a shot to the yard.  There he awaited my coming, always looking anxiously in my face to see if I was still angry.  When I would ask, “Are you sorry, Beau?” he would whine and come crawling to my feet.  As soon as he heard me say “All right,” he began to bound and run around in a circle and in other ways to show his joy.

Among the patients he had many warm friends who used to take great pleasure in saving scraps to feed him with.  They also loved to tease him by wrapping some nice morsel in many papers.  The parcel was then hidden.  Beauregard knew just which beds to stop at, and, greatly to the delight of his friends, would put his paws upon the bunks and “nose about” under the mattress or pillows for the bundles there hidden.  After many attempts to get through the many papers in which lay a coveted morsel, he would grow impatient and disgusted, and would at last sit down, looking earnestly first at the inmate of the bed, then at the parcel on the floor.  Then, if he was not helped, he would push the bed with his paw, until at last he succeeded in gaining his wish.

Early in the spring Beau fell into some disgrace, for while romping with my little boy he threw him down and broke his arm.  Everybody scolded the poor dog, crying shame on him wherever he appeared, until he got a habit of slinking out of sight.  Before the broken arm was quite well, little Wally grow very ill of typhoid fever, so ill that his papa was sent for, for it seemed that he must die.  Beauregard attached himself very closely to my husband, rarely leaving his side.  When his new master returned to camp, I went down to the boat to see him off.  The dog followed us.  The boat was crowded with soldiers going to reinforce McGruder, so I did not go on board, but when ready to return discovered that Beau was missing.  The first letter from my husband announced that the dog had followed his master on the boat, where he must have hidden, for his presence was not discovered until some time after the boat had left the wharf.  In camp he became a terrible nuisance.  No matter how securely he was tied, the dog always managed to escape and attend the drill.  Here he would sometimes sit down and gravely watch the proceedings, cocking his head first on one side, then on the other, but usually he would