accustomed to the decency and luxuries of civilized life, to be herded together like cattle in some dirty little enclosure, and there treated with the hauteur and chilling neglect of the most abject slaves. How the hot blood mantles my cheek when I look at our situation. "The boat rolls so!" A fine excuse truly! Other boats of no greater strength carry troops upon the boiler deck yet this hireling says, we "have no more right there than his firemen." Behold the sacrifices of the soldier! He forfeits his self-respect, his sense of right and wrong, his liberty of speech, his freedom of action, and his rank in society. All this for the public good, and what is his reward? Why, one ration a day, and seven dollars a month, the cold indifference of the hireling citizen, and of the avaricious or ambitious officer, holding in his hand the regulations of the Army. How many such officers when at home, in newspaper articles or public orations, give vent to fires of eloquence and of patriotism. They would shed the last drop of blood for their dear country! but they seem mighty unwilling to shed the first drop, or why don't they shed a little reflection for the comfort of the poor soldier, or why don't they shed out some of their big salaries for the advantage of those who have left firesides and friends for their dear country?
So far as this government boat was concerned, it had this regulation: "No private shall enter the cabin, or be permitted to sit at the table," the money or intrinsic worth of the soldier notwithstanding. Well, I have this consolation, that I have endeavored to show proper respect without truckling to office or power. In my intercourse and associations with officers, I have kept up appearances without blushing, at the inferiority of my living to theirs. As to the monthly pay of the volunteer, one of my messmates well expressed himself. "I hope Congress may not increase our pay to ten dollars, for I never can be paid with money for the wounds my pride has received."
By the above remarks let it be understood that I am not finding fault with the duties of the soldier. I am willing, God knows I am willing, to do everything in my line of duty. Nor am I opposing rigid discipline, for I hold that subordination is the life and safeguard of the army. Yet the soldier has rights that should be protected, and feelings that should be respected.
11th.—We arrived at Matamoros this morning, before day. At
