a two-story dwelling house. As we had but little to move, only the precious sick, it took but a short time to settle ourselves, and be at home in Laurel Hospital, and our sick-list numbered on]y twelve men.
We were in the midst of a rich farming country, and as we tired of our bare rations, the boys made frequent requisitions on the neighbors, and drew a pig, then a turkey, then a goose, using all strategems, deeming them always fair in love and war, and the people were only loyal as they stood in fear of Northern bayonets.
Our cellar was open to the light of the sun, our door having fallen in, and, like tenants who expect to move in a week or so, and having no particular love for the landlord, we had delayed repairing it.
The boys enticed two pigs into it one day, regaling themselves in prospect of the delicious roast, which in savory sweetness lay palpitating beneath the bristling hide of the unthinking porkers. They had them nicely captured, and accustomed to the place, when Dr. Johnson was prompted by some spirit to go into the cellar, and out ran a pig. He asked me how it happened—pigs in the cellar—and I, not knowing how to account for it, said the boys must have concluded not to keep their pigs over, but had driven them in preparatory to the slaughtering.
Surgeon Hunt left us at Laurel, and Dr. Churchill, from Owego, took his place. We were very sad to part with him, for he had proved himself a kind, humane man—a friend to us all, and we had trusted in him to do so much for the recovery of the sick.
