regimental drill, he would provoke a general concatenation of laughter along the line, by an involuntary troll of a verse of his favorite song:

"Brian O'Linn had no breeches to wear,

So he got him a sheep-skin and made him a pair;

With the woolly side out, and the skinny side in,

'They're a snug pair of breeches,' says Brian O'Linn."

Jimmy had taken it into his head that he was a wonderful shot, though, to tell the truth, a hod had oftener graced his shoulder than a rifle. With the latter instrument in his hand, he was fond of making excursions from the camp, and fancying himself a perfect Nimrod.

On one occasion, just at night, after being absent all day, Jimmy made his appearance, with a countenance full of importance, and bursting with anxiety to communicate some wonderful piece of information.

"Well, Jimmy, have you met St. Patrick to-day!" inquired Capt. Bennett, or have you had a rencontre with the Mexican army?"

"Nather one nor the other, captain," replied Jim, with his big gray eyes distended nearly out of their sockets.

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But, captain, tell me, if yer plaze, sur-are there any lions in this counthry?"

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Any what?"

"Any lions, captain."

"Lions! Why, no; not that I am aware of," says the captain. Jimmy, have you had a fight with lions to-day ?" 'Not exactly a fight, sur; but sure's me name's Jim Byrne, I had a sight of one af the crathurs."

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Are you sure it was a lion ?" asked the captain. Maybe it was a skunk, Jimmy."

"Skunk!" contemptuously repeated Jimmy. "Do you take me for a fule, entirely, captain? Haven't I seen the picthers of the bastes? and don't I know a lion sure? It's meself, captain, has seen a rale gene wine lion to-day." "Well! why did you not shoot it?" smilingly demanded the captain.

the

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Why didn't I shoot it! sure it's owld iron as wouldn't shoot straight at all, at all. Now, captain, jewel, will yer be so kind as to be afther giving me the loan of yer big two-barriled gun, yonder, and let me give the crathur another hunt to-mor

The next morning, while his countryman, Jimmy Tweed, was rattling off his lively, wide-awakening notes of the reveillé, Jimmy Byrne, with the captain's double-barreled deer-gun on his shoulder, a la militaire, was seen marching out of camp, on his way to "beard the lion in his den."

As the regiment was drawn up for the regular afternoon drill, our little Hibernian hove in sight, a long distance off, on the prairie. He seemed to be heavily loaded with something, and advanced but slowly towards camp. The drill was over by the time that Jimmy had arrived; and as he entered the lines on one side of the camp, before the men had returned from the paradeground, on the other, Captain Bennett and myself, who occupied the same tent together, were the first to meet him.

Jimmy came up, and, throwing the huge carcass of a yellow wolf upon the ground before us, straightened himself to his full height, threw back his shoulders, and, with the air of an Alexander, when he had conquered the world, pointed to the disgusting animal, and exclaimed:

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See there, now, Captain Bennett! do ye call that a skunk? It's meself that takes the liberty to tell ye it's a rale, thrue lion,"

This adventure had nearly proved the death of poor Jimmy, and he never heard the last of his lion-hunt. He was now christened "Brian the lion killer;" and, in spite of his reiterated assertion of " sure, and didn't I know meself, all the time, that it was a wolf," he could not escape the jibes and jokes of his comrades. Some time passed away before Jimmy could prevail upon himself to undertake another hunt.

One day, however, he had been absent for some hours, and, on returning to camp, had not a word to say to any one he chanced to meet, but walked directly to the colonel's tent. The colonel was writing at his table, when he was aroused by the entrance of Jimmy, hat in hand. He at once perceived a request expressed in the comical face of the little Irishman, and good-naturedly inquired "what he would have?"

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Colonel, if you plaze, sur, and if it

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Indeed, sur, yer may trust me intirely for that. It's not meself would shoot one of the innocent crathurs at all.'

Mounting the horse of the colonel's servant, Jimmy was soon bounding away over the prairie. After a while he was seen returning with the horse loaded down with the beef of a yearling calf, skinned and neatly cut into quarters. However, in his haste to dress the animal, he had left the entire tail attached to one of the quarters.

He bent his course, first, to Col.

Johnson's tent. That officer was standing outside as Jimmy arrived, and, untying one of the pieces, asked, "where would he have it laid?"

The tail attracted the eye of the colonel, who sternly demanded

"What have you here, sir?"

"It's the deer, yer honor," replied Jimmy, with a scrape of the left foot, and his hand to his cap. "It's the deer that I tould yer honor I'd bring yer a quarther of."

"What kind of a deer do you call this?" cried the colonel, as he reached out his hand and took hold of the long tuft of hair at the end of the tail. Answer me, sir; what kind of a deer have you here?"

"What kind! yer honor," replied Jimmy, with an honest, child-like simplicity of countenance--such only as an Irishman can assume on an occasion. "I'm sure I don't know, yer honor, not being much varsed in the crathur; but I belave they call it the slow kind."

The colonel had not another question to ask, but thanked Jimmy for the venison, and acknowledged, to himself, that he had received new light in relation to the natural history of the genus

cervus.

no

sooner made

This affair was known, than the little hunter was immediately reinstated in public opinion, and the little mistake of the lion was overlooked, in consideration of the general service he had rendered in classifying a species of game, the most abundant, of all others, in the vicinity of the camp.

On the mustering out of the regiment, Jimmy Byrne was "promoted” -to use his own words-"to the command of a wagon and a five-mule team." He continued faithfully in this employ, till the poor fellow was murdered by Urrea's party at the time of the massacre of the train near Marin. Peace to his memory!

The regiment from North Carolina came to the country towards the close of the war.

My own introduction to these new levies says, Dr. Smith, "occurred in this wise: I was on the road to Camargo, when, one pleasant morning, having passed Punta Aguda, I observed a small grassy glade, a little distance from the wagon-track. Its bright verdure tempted me to turn aside, that my horse might refresh himself upon its rich herbage.

The train, consisting of some two hundred wagons, escorted by Texas Rangers, had filed past me, as I lay upon the ground, enjoying the apparent gusto with which my steed cropped the juicy grass.

I lay thus-half asleep, half awakewhen the sound of voices approaching along the road, from the opposite direction, attracted my attention:

Now them's Texas Rangers, be they?"

"Yes; so the teamsters said."

"Wal! I'll be smoked in a tar-kill, ef they ain't jest like anybody else, arter all; only they don't wear sogerclose, like us. But did ye mind-they straddle mighty nice hosses!"

"That's a fact, Jo! and the fellow that driv that big yaller nule-team said that them 'ere Texyans got eighteen dollars a month!"

"Eighteen dollars! whew! wal, that's a heap of money, anney how!"

I say, dad!" now chimed in a voice I had not heard before, "what wages do'ee think we're goin' to git?" Dunno, Sam! but I b'lieve about seven dollars a month, and the vittles thrown in."

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the glory! I say, dad; I goes in for the dollars-the real shiners I does! green, we wos, to come 'way out to this of a place to be shot at by Injuns and Mexekins! For my part, ole hoss, I only wish I wos once more on t'other side o' Tar river. I've seen glory enough already, in this thorny country-I have! Why! yer can't put yer foot down without stickin' a- thorn through it--it's all thorny. Every tree I've seed yet has thorns on it; even the dodratted frogs and grasshoppers have horns; and it's the thornyest, hornyest country on airth! it, I say.'

I had heard enough to excite my curiosity to know who these men were; so, throwing the bridle of my horse over a cactus plant, I stepped out to the road to reconnoitre.

From some words they dropped, however, I had no doubt of the state that had the honor to be represented by them.

They

As I stepped into the dusty wagontrack, I encountered three as strange objects as ever met my gaze. were an old man, and two long-legged, long-armed, scrawny, old-looking boys! The three figures were accoutred alike, in bran new suits of soldiers' fatigue uniforms; but more unsoldier-like objects I never beheld.

The old man's overalls, which were a world too wide and too long for his skinny corpus, were rolled up above his bare, tan-colored knees, while the jacket came below the hips, and was buttoned up full in front, throwing the old fellow's head back at a fearful angle, with his sharp, bony chin pointing to the zenith. His blue fatigue-cap hung low down on his little bottle-shaped head, and rested by its rim on a huge pair of leathery ears, which stood out in most grotesque relief from his head. cap, like the rest of his dress, was intended for a much larger man, and fitted to his caput like a corn-basket to the top of a horse-post. Upon the whole, he reminded me of the old plantation song about

The

"A bull-frog dressed in soldier's clothes

The dresses of the boys were as much too scant for them as the old man's was too large. Their scrawny extremities protruded from them in un'gainly contortions, and bore no small resemblance to the "lite-wood knots" of their native "piney-woods."

As I moved out into the road, these men made a sudden halt, and, throwing their bright, new regulation muskets into a clubbing position, demanded, in an excited tone,

"Who be you?"

"A friend," I replied, bursting into an uncontrollable fit of laughter at the truly comical figures before me. "Put down your guns, men, I won't hurt you."

"Wal! now I'm darned ef I didn't take ye for a Mexekin, and no mistake!" said one of the boys. "Mister! du you belong to that long string of waggins that's jest driv by?"

I replied that I was accompanying the train.

"Wal, now, then, stranger, I reckin yer mought tell us ef it's a fact that all these 'ere waggins and mules belong to Gineral Taylor?"

I assured them most seriously that such was the fact.

"Wal, all I've got to say about it then, boys," exclaimed the old man. throwing up his huge, bony hands, and giving his cap a tilt upon the back of his little head, "all I've got to say about it is, he is the goldarndest richest ole coon I ever hearn tell ov, that's all! Kurnul Johnsin, 'way down on Tar river, with all his sloop-loads of tar, tarpentine, and shingles, can't hold a light'ud knot to him--he can't!"

quired, will you be so kind, gentlemen, as to tell me where you are from?"

"O' we're from ole Varginny: but that whole sward of fellows coming yander, they're from Nor' Carline, close on the Varginny line."

This was precisely the answer I expected to get, for I have yet to see the North Carolinian from the "pineywoods" who does not hail from "Varginny," or "close upon the Varginny line." They are as rare as Virginians who are not members of the first families."

By this time, the main body of this new regiment of "during-the-war-men" came straggling up. So, bidding my piney-woods friends good-by, and recommending them to keep a sharp look-out for the Mexekins, I returned to my horse, and remounting, soon rejoined the train.

The old, homely adage, "It takes all sorts of people to make a world," may. with very little alteration, be applied to the composition of an army in the field; for, truly, it takes many varieties of men to make up its complete organization.

The soldier-he who carries a knapsack strapped to his back, like Pilgrim's

load of sin, and the musket upon his shoulder, with the cotton haversack, the receptacle of the day's scanty fare, under the left arm-who, in regular routine, takes his turn at guard-mounting and fatigue duty-who has neither will nor soul of his own, but must yield in slavish obedience to the tyrant, Discipline-whose law is the whim or caprice of some petty upstart officer-who at the word of command must unflinchingly bare his breast to the iron storm of the battle, and pour out his life-blood without a murmur-this man is but one ingredient that goes to make up the unit of an army.

There are the numerous employés of the quartermaster and commissary departments; the artisans, the teamsters, and mule-drivers; the clerks, factotums, and servants; the contractors, speculators, and letter-writers, as well as the black-legs, whisky-sellers, and pickpockets, with their coadjutors, the courtezans of the camp-all these elements form important components of the great whole.

The last-named gentry, the gamblers, did not confine their operations to the garrisoned towns and the permanent camps, but were frequently found ac