TOOT-TOOO! went the whistle of the steamboat “Mattano.”  “All aboard!” yelled the captain, and all aboard it was for the Dashahed Zouaves, and ever so many people beside, who, you may be sure, were all eyes when they found out that such a killing regiment was going down with them.

“Good-by, my boy,” called Mr. Jourdain (who had followed the march in a stage) from the wharf.

“Good-by, father; I say, old Beauregard will have to keep his eyes open now the Dashahed Zouaves are in the field!” and Freddy waved his cap in one hand and his sword in the other to his father, as long as he could see him.

In a few moments the boat was fairly out from the wharf, and the whole regiment comfortably seated on the promenade deck; very proud of their new responsibilities as members of the army and society generally, and surrounded by a crowd of admirers.

“Jolly, ain’t I hungry!” exclaimed Freddy, as he joined them; “I went off with hardly any breakfast, I declare! wasn’t that noble?”

“Noble?  I don’t see it!” said Charley Spicer.  “Nobody asked you to go without your breakfast!”

“Why, wasn’t I in a hurry to serve my country?  When I was so full of glory, I couldn’t stop to get full of beefsteak and coffee beside!”

“Never mind!” cried Harry Livingston, “I have some sandwiches in my knapsack, and you shall have some, Fred.”

“Have you? there’s six big apples in mine,” said Charley.

“Here’s a quart of peanuts and half a pound of taffy for my share,” added Jimmy Boorman.

“And I’ve a pair of broiled spring chickens! high diddle-diddle!” shouted George.

“Good boy!” exclaimed Tom Pringle; “here, take my molasses and water bottle ­canteen, I mean, and pass round the tin plate for the Colonel!”

Amid high glee, every one bestowed a part of his provisions on Freddy until a sufficiently motley meal was collected; half of which he immediately offered again to his companions, who, of course, were quite ready to feel hungry too, and they all munched together, like a company of gypsies.

“I say, Capting,” said a tall Yankee in a fur hat, to Peter, “what may yew calculate dewing on Long Island?”

“Why, we’re going into camp, to be sure.”

“Lors-a-massy! them air boys all alone by theirselves!” exclaimed an old countrywoman, carrying a large market basket, and wearing a great pair of brass-rimmed spectacles.  “It beats all natur!”

“Yew ha’n’t got no one to look arter you?” continued the tall Yankee.

“Certainly; here’s our commanding officer, Col.  Jourdain.”

“Let me present Mr. ­,” added Freddy, full of laugh, and highly enjoying the fun.

“Captin George Washington Kosciusko Peter Bonaparte Solomon Hopkins!” said the countryman, with an awkward bow; while the boys hardly dared to look at each other, they were so afraid of bursting out laughing at his ridiculous name.  Its fortunate possessor, nothing abashed, went on, “But dew tell, wha ­at on airth dew you call yourselves?”

“These, sir,” replied Freddy, as grave as a judge, though his eyes sparkled with fun, “are the famous Dashahed Zouaves, First Regiment Long Island Volunteers; I am the Colonel, this is Major Schermerhorn, Captains Spicer, Chadwick, Livingston, and Boorman, Sergeant Pringle, and Adjutant Costar.”

“Oh, light infantry regiment, I calculate.”

“No, sir, heavy veterans!” put in Will Costar.

“Wal I never!” exclaimed Captin George Washington Kosciusko Peter Bonaparte Solomon Hopkins (here the boat touched the pier of the Flushing Railroad); “Naow mind, Kurnel Jordan, if ever your regiment comes to Hempstead, yeou put for Captin Hopkins’ farm, and if yeou don’t get the biggest lot of red apples yeou ever did see, I’ll be made into apple pie myself!” and off marched the Yankee, while the boys, as soon as he was fairly out of sight, indulged rather ungratefully in an explosion of laughter.

Presently the boat stopped at Ravenswood, and here the old woman got off; but before she went, she took an immense shiny hunk of gingerbread out of the great market basket, and bestowed it on Freddy, saying, “Here, take this, sonny; you air a dear little fellow, so like my Sammy, too” ­and the poor old woman’s voice broke, and tears began to gather under the brass-bound spectacles, as she turned to leave the boat.

Freddy put down his cake, and ran after her, saying, “Thank you, ma’am, thank you very much; I am sorry you are distressed.”

The old woman stopped, and saying softly, “Bless you, my son!” she kissed the bright, rosy cheek, and went away quite comforted.

Freddy wasn’t ashamed either, not a bit, when they teased him afterward, but said, “I don’t care, she’s a real nice old thing; now, there!”

Soon the boat ran up to the wharf at Astoria.  Delighted to arrive at their journey’s end, the boys scampered off as soon as the plank touched the shore, and “formed” on the road in fine style.

“Goodness, Peter!” exclaimed Freddy, “I hope it’s not very far to your father’s place; I’m afraid I shall be melted altogether if it is.”

“Well, it is a good way,” began Peter, with rather a rueful face.

“So far that I intend to take you there in comfort,” said a pleasant voice close behind them.

“Oh, father,” cried Peter (for it was Mr. Schermerhorn), “how kind of you!  Only look, boys!” and he pointed to two double rockaways which were waiting on the pier.

In they all swarmed, managing to find places for everybody (and really, it is surprising how a rockaway can stretch on occasion), and after a rapid drive along a level sandy road, the ha-ha fences of Mr. Schermerhorn’s splendid country seat, “Locust Grove,” came in view.  Soon the carriages entered the beautiful rustic gate, its pillars surmounted by vases, filled with trailing plants; and in a moment more were dashing over the gravelled drive toward the western side of the place.

At one point, the road led directly over a deep ravine, spanned by a bridge of rough logs.  Then they whirled past a tranquil lake, dotted with pond lilies, and shaded by drooping willows, through which might be caught a glimpse of the tall white chimneys of the house.  At last, with a sudden bend, the drive came out on a wide velvet lawn, relieved by a fringe of the beautiful locusts, covered, at this season of the year, with the fragrant pinkish flowers.  At some distance a quaint Chinese summer house served as an observatory; beds of brilliant scarlet verbena and many-colored pétunias dotted the grass here and there, and right before them, most beautiful of all in their eyes, was the encampment itself, eight snowy white tents, four in a row, while in the midst rose a tall flagstaff, with the dear old Red, White, and Blue floating from the summit.

“Hurrah, boys, there’s the tents!” shouted Peter, at the top of his voice “Come, let’s see who’ll get there first;” and, before the carriage could stop, Peter had hopped out, tumbled head over heels on the soft grass, jumped up, and scampered on in advance, followed a moment after by the rest.

These wonderful tents were furnished just like real soldiers’ dwellings; with a good warm blanket for each of the three occupants, a bright tin basin and tooth mug, a cedar bucket to draw water, a square looking glass, like a sticking plaster, and a couple of wooden lockers (which, between ourselves, were made of claret boxes) in each one; beside camp stools in abundance for everybody.

“Here’s the officers’ quarters!” cried George, as he flung open the door of the smoke house.

“No, that’s the guard house, Chadwick,” said Harry, “where we put the refracti-rac-tic-tactories.”

“Oh, is it?  I go in for that!” shouted Will Costar, “whatever reractitactories may be.”

“You’re on the wrong tack now, old chap,” added Tom Pringle.  “But only see what I’ve discovered! such a high old battery, boys! six brass cannon nearly as big as boot-jacks.  Hurrah for the Dashahed Zouaves!” and away scampered the boys to look at the guns, while Colonel Freddy, quite forgetting his dignity, fell to and executed a volunteer Jim Crow polka, and Peter sang the following ridiculous song, making up words as he went along: 

“Ain’t I glad I’m out in the wilderness,
Out in the wilderness,
Out in the wilderness,
Ain’t I glad I’m out in the wilderness,
Down in Astori-or?

“Good-by, boys, I’m off for Dixie,
Off for Dixie,
Off for Dixie,
Good-by, boys, I’m off for Dixie,
And sha’n’t come back no more!”

Meanwhile, Mr. Schermerhorn had been superintending certain arrangements for the provisioning of the camp, and presently a bugle call, sounded by one of the stable men, summoned the regiment to prepare for dinner.

Peter took a bucket and went to draw some water; George and Harry made a fire in the smoke house, which, after all the guesses, turned out to be intended for the regimental kitchen; Jimmy and Tom were initiated into the mysteries of frying ham and potatoes by the cook, and the rest set the table (for the soldiers considered it a point of honor that they should wait on themselves).

Amid high glee the table, consisting of a broad smooth plank placed upon horses, was laid with the tin cup and plates, the pewter forks and spoons, and horn-handled knives, which the boys carried in their knapsacks just like real soldiers, after which the table was further embellished by the remains of the rations they had brought with them, disposed around wherever they thought the dishes would have the best effect.

The grand feast of fried ham was ready at last, and the new cooks presented themselves and it at table, very hungry and happy.  Mrs. Mincemeat, the fat cook, had made the boys each put on one of her blue check aprons, tied under their chins, to save their uniforms; and when they appeared in this new array, their faces as red and shining as a stick of sealing wax, there was a general shout of laughter.

“Well, my precious babies,” cried one.

“Don’t soil your new bibs, my tiddy-ikle duckies!” called another.

“There, don’t tease them,” said Freddy, the general peacemaker; “Come, fellows, let’s have dinner; ham’s good, I tell you!” and down they sat at table, in high, good humor.

Of course the cooking business was rather to amuse the boys than in earnest, for the fried ham formed only a small part of the abundant dinner set before the gallant Zouaves.  There was lamb, and green peas, new potatoes, fresh tomatoes, custard pudding, and raspberries, all of which was pronounced “fine,” although Jimmy declared there never was any dish at Delmonico’s to equal or surpass his fried ham, and the others fully concurred in this opinion.

As soon as the dinner was fairly under way, Mr. Schermerhorn rose from his place at the table, where he had been carving, and said, with a pleased smile on his face, “Now, my brave soldiers, I must take my leave.  Have the goodness not to do double-quick over the flower beds, leave a dish or so of cherries in the orchard, and, whatever you do, don’t tumble into the lake, and I shall be satisfied.”

“Three cheers for Mr. Schermerhorn!” shouted Colonel Freddy.  In an instant every fellow was on his feet, every cap was in the air, and a tremendous “Hurrah! hurrah! ti-ga-a-ah!” made the echoes around Camp McClellan wake up in a hurry, and poke their heads out of the hills to see where the cannonading was.

Of course, being boys, the regiment cleared the dishes in astonishing style, and polished their plates so thoroughly that you would hardly have thought they wanted the grand washing they had when dinner was over.

After stowing all the things away neatly in the smokehouse, and arranging their surplus luggage (which had been sent down the previous Saturday), in the lockers, they all had a grand game at fox and geese, which lasted until Freddy, perfectly worn out with laughing and scampering about, exclaimed, “Come, fellows, do let’s sit down and be quiet; I’m as tired as if I had walked from here to China.”

“Yes, let’s be solemn a little while,” said Peter.  “In these momentous times, we army men ought to be thinking how to fix off the old secessionists and that sort of thing.  I move we all sit down in a circle, and the first who laughs shall tell a story.”

The boys thought this was a grand idea.  So they found a nice place, just beneath the sheltering boughs of the locusts, and, putting the camp stools in a ring, they sat down, to see how solemn they could be.  But it was no use; though they pinched up their mouths, and frowned, and did their best to look like a company of highly respectable owls, in two minutes they all burst out laughing, so nearly together that nobody could tell who had begun.

As soon as the broad faces had come back to their proper length, there was a general cry for a story; and as Peter had instituted the new regulation, he undertook to carry it out; so, drawing a long breath to start with, he commenced: 

“Once upon a time, there lived a family of bears in a thick wood.  Grumpy-growly, the father, was a jolly, cross old fellow ­oh!  I guess he was! and the little ones didn’t dare so much as to snap at a fly without permission, when he was around.

“One day Grumpy-growly went out to take a walk, bidding the young ones to be very good while he was away; for he was a widower, poor fellow! and had to see after his family himself.

“As soon as he was fairly gone, Longclawse, the eldest, said, ’Seems to me, brothers, we have stood this long enough.  All the other cubs in the wood can run about as they please, and why should we be kept in this poky old cave?  Suppose we try to get away the big log before the door?’ for this was what Grumpy-growly put up to keep them at home.

“‘Good!  I go in for that!’ cried Bushyball, Titehugge, and Stubtail, the other cubs.

“So first they tried to poke their noses under the log, but the plaguy old thing wouldn’t stir.  Then they turned their backs against it, and all kicked together with their hind legs, and presently away it went, to the great delight of the four bears, who didn’t trouble themselves to put it back again, but just packed up their carpet bags, and cut stick, I tell you.”

Here Peter opened his eyes and mouth very wide, and ran out his tongue for a moment to get an airing, a proceeding which he frequently repeated during the story.  Then he went on: 

“They had a jolly time climbing trees, rolling on the soft grass, and playing with the other bears they met; but at last Titehugge and Stubtail, the youngest, declared they were too tired to go another step, and must take a little nap.  Longclawse and Bushyball thought they would go off to see the election, which they had been told was to take place that very day, and the others, promising not to stir from the spot without them, curled themselves up into tight round balls, and went to sleep.

“While they were dreaming away, a fox came along.  He was a cunning old codger, and hated Grumpy-growly like mustard, because the old fellow had once treated him, in a fit of rage, to a hug that nearly put an end to him.  When he saw the sons of his enemy asleep, he made up his mind to fool them in revenge; and after he had rummaged both their carpet bags, to see if there was anything worth taking, he went up to Titehugge and pulled his ear a little to waken him.  Titehugge, who was as cross as two sticks, and always fighting his brothers, opened his eyes, and for a moment looked so very like giving the fox a gentle squeeze, that foxy was rather startled.  However, he took courage, and laying his paw on his heart, he made the bear such an elegant bow that he nearly cracked his spine.  ’Ah, my d-e-a-r Titehugge! so glad to see you.  You know I have always been a great friend of your dear papa’s, and now, I should be overjoyed to do you a little favor.  Do you happen to know that there is a tree near here, which is hollow from root to branches, and filled with wild bees’ combs and honey?’

“’No! cried Titehugge, ’is there?  Show it to me directly, master fox, and don’t stand there gaping at me!’ You see, bears were never celebrated for being polite, and Titehugge had no more manners than any of ’em.

“‘Come along, then,’ said the fox, ’but take care to make no noise, or you will waken your brother, and then he’ll be wanting to have half the honey.’

“Titehugge was a selfish little pig ­bear, I mean ­and though he felt rather shy of going off alone for the first time in his life, he was too greedy after the honey to let that trouble him much.  However, he said, ’You had better be careful not to play any tricks, master fox, for if you do, I’ll give you a hug that will settle you ­if you are such a dear friend of mine.’

“‘My d-e-a-r friend!’ exclaimed the fox, ’d-o-n’t say so!  How can you suppose I would do such a shabby thing?  Come, we shall soon be at the tree.’

“Titehugge waited for nothing more, but started off with master fox, who kept on flattering him all the way until Titehugge thought him the first-ratest fellow in the whole world.  Presently they came to the hollow tree, and Titehugge, without waiting to ask any questions, shinned up like a streak of lightning, and began smelling down the hole.  ‘But, it looks very dark down here,’ cried he at last ’and I don’t see any honey’.

“‘Oh, you must poke your nose further in,’ said the fox, ’and you’ll soon come to it.’

“Titehugge accordingly rammed and jammed his head with great difficulty into the hole, which proved such an uncommonly tight fit, that, not finding any honey, he began trying to pull it back double quick; but lo and behold! pull and tug, scratch and swear as he might, he was caught in a mouse trap not intended for bears, while the fox stood below giggling.  After he had amused himself enough with Titehugge’s struggles, he scampered off to find Stubtail; bawling out, ’Good-by, my d-e-a-r friend, I hope you’ll find the honey answer your expectations.’

“Meanwhile, master Stubtail was snoring away like a catamount, when the fox trotted up, and seating himself beside him, began to sing a popular fox ballad, beginning, ’Oh? don’t I love to cheat ’em!’

“This soon awoke Stubtail, and opening his eyes, he saw the fox sitting, singing away, as if he never dreamed of such a person as Stubtail being near.

“‘Well, master fox!’ he said, in a dandified way, ’whawt business have you, I should like to know, in the ­aw company of a bearah of fashion?  Make your mannahs, sir, and don’t sit down before your bettahs!  How horrid vulgah you are ­aw!’

“Up jumped the fox, and made such a beautiful bow this time, that he fell over on his nose, and nearly stuck his tail in the bear’s face, as he exclaimed, ’Oh, my d-e-a-r friend! d-o-n’-t say that!  I didn’t mean to be uncivil.  I only came to ask you to a little fox party that is coming off this afternoon, if your highness will favor us with your honorable company.  Only ten of my cousins and seven of my brothers and sisters are coming ­just a nice little family party; but then they are all such beauties! particularly my cousin, Miss Slygo Brighteyes!  She is perfectly lovely; as slender as a bean pole, and smooth as a young rabbit; and then such sharp teeth, such a fine bushy tail! oh my! and such a dancer, too, as she is!’

“Now, Stubtail was as fond of dancing and flirting as his brother of eating, and tried to be a great dandy and beau; so when master fox gave such a glowing description of Miss Slygo Brighteyes, his charming cousin, Stubtail’s whiskers curled up tighter than ever; and he could hardly manage to drawl out, ’Aw ­yaas, I think I will dwop in for harf an ‘ouah!’

“When the fox heard that, he was ready to stand on his head for joy; and could scarcely wait while Stubtail opened his carpet bag, and took out his all-rounder collar, his lemon-colored kid gloves, and his pork pie hat, to wear at the fox’s party.

“But what has become of Titehugge?’ he asked, suddenly noticing that his brother was not there.

“‘Oh, never mind him,’ said the fox, ’I saw the selfish little wretch gobbling away at some honey as I came along, and you see he was too greedy to ask you to share it.’

“This was enough for Stubtail, who was too hard at work drawing on his tight gloves to think of anything else, and away he trotted with the fox; who took him to a lonely hollow in the wood, where, sure enough, there were about fifty other foxes clustered together, but who looked at Stubtail as he came among them, in anything but a pleasant manner.

“‘Now, my friends!’ exclaimed master fox himself, in a furious tone, ’you see before you the son of that old scoundrel Grumpy-growly, who nearly killed me last year.  At him, my dear cousins! scratch his eyes out! ahaaa!’ and with a long growl of rage the fox made a sudden jump at poor Stubtail before he had time to run away, followed by all the others.

“Stubtail fought like a perfect Zouave, hugging, scratching, and biting his enemies with might and main; but after all, one poor little cub could not do very much against a whole army of foxes, and Stubtail would have been killed outright before long, when suddenly a tremendous growling was heard! and up dashed Grumpy-growly himself, who most fortunately happened to be passing, and came to see what the row was, followed by Longclawse and Bushyball, full tilt!  They didn’t stop to inquire whether this was a free fight or not, but pitched in like a thousand of bricks, and demolished the foxes in a way which astonished them considerable.

“As to master fox, he was making off first of anybody, leaving his friends in the lurch; but Grumpy-growly saw him, and catching him by the ear, made him confess all the mischief he had been about that morning; and as soon as he had finished, Grumpy-growly gave him one good hug, which killed him as dead as a coffin nail.

“After the grand battle was over, Grumpy-growly marshalled the three cubs before him, hanging their heads, and looking perfectly miserable with shame and fatigue, and started off to find Titehugge; scolding and beating them all the way for their naughty conduct, though they were punished enough already; for Longclawse and Bushyball had gone to the election, where they had been well pummelled by a shoulder-hitting baboon, because they insisted on voting for Douglas as the beariest fellow on the ticket, and afterward met by their father, who gave them another thrashing for daring to come out without leave, and dragged them howling away.  Stubtails ears were torn into ribbons, his head bleeding in twenty places, and unfortunately no ’Balm of the Blooming Blossoms of Gilead’ to put on it, and, in short, the whole party looked as if they had been at an Irish funeral and nearly been made ‘cold corpuses’ themselves.  After a long hunt, they at last found Titehugge stuck fast where the fox had left him, and now the puzzle was to get him out.  The three brothers all tried in vain, and at last Grumpy-growly caught hold of Titehugge’s tail, Longclawse of Grumpy-growly’s, Stubtail of Longclawse’s, and Bushyball of Stubtail’s, and they all pulled and tugged together; ouf! ouf! altogether now! one, two, three, Pop! out came Titehugge, and out came his tail, too! and the five bears rolled head over heels together in such a hurley-burley, that it was a long time before they could get straight enough to start for home; and when they did get there, Grumpy-growly put up the big log again, and put a big stone on top of that, and a hundred pound weight on top of that, and one of those home-made pies we used to have at boarding school on top of that, which proved the heaviest of the lot, and if they ever happened to get out of prison again, it is more than I know.”

Thus ended the wonderful story of the five bears, which gave great amusement to the hearers, and was pronounced “first rate.”  Pretty soon after, they had a scrambling sort of tea, not quite as orderly as dinner, for they were all tired out with the day’s adventures; and about seven o’clock, George, who, as I told you, was the oldest of the party, sensibly proposed that the regiment should go “early to bed,” on the principle of the old maxim, and in order to be “early to rise,” after the example of real soldiers.

As they were not quite certain what were the usual ceremonies attendant upon soldiers’ retiring, Freddy undertook to “do the thing up brown,” as he said, in a novel and delightfully military manner.  So, taking his place about a dozen yards in advance of the camp, and standing as stiff as a ramrod, just as he had seen the officers do at West Point, he called out “Battalion, attention!”

At these words, the regiment strung themselves in a long line, like so many kibobs on a straw, with their captains standing in front.  “Now, Captain Livingston, dismiss your company to quarters,” and off marched the first company, four “men” strong, toward the tents; then the next four, and so on, until all had gone, and then came posting back again without the smallest delay.

Colonel Freddy was obediently following his own orders by dismissing himself, with a sublime disregard of rank, when Peter suddenly called out, “I say, Fred, there’s one thing you’ve forgotten!”

“What is that?” asked Freddy, stopping short.

“Why, we ought to have a guard.  You know they always do in camps.”

“To be sure!  I never thought of that.  Come, fellows, the safety of Camp McClellan must be looked out for.”

“Very well, suppose you begin!” laughed Jimmy.

“Hum, I’m the Colonel; Colonels can’t be sentinels.”

“But I want to go to bed!” objected Will Costar.

“Well, I love my country, but I think the country had better turn in too!” said Harry.  “What business has the country to be awake and getting into mischief in the middle of the night?”

“Voted,” cried Peter, “that the guard be mounted, but that it shall go to bed as soon as it gets sleepy!”

“Good for you! that’s the way to fix it!” said Colonel Freddy.  “Now then, boys, who’ll turn out?” and two of the gallant Zouaves being posted, one on each side of the camp, the others produced their nightgowns (which, by their special entreaty, had been crammed into the little knapsacks), and with several hair breadth escapes from having one or two of the tents pitched over, as the occupants incautiously ran against the poles, the regiment after, I am glad to say, a most sincere and earnest repetition of their prayers, fell into the sweet sound sleep of happy childhood; while the guard, after prancing up and down about ten minutes, concluded to follow their example, as there was nothing particular in the way of an enemy to look out for.

Ah! how charming looked now the little encampment, with the full radiance of the harvest moon streaming over the white tents, standing gleamingly out from the dark background of trees.  No sound but the chirpings of insects could be heard; nothing moved about the spot but the flag, stirring dreamily in the summer breeze.  And now the wind springs fresher up; it catches the bright folds, and they flash out in full view.  God bless you, glorious old banner! floating there over as loyal, though boyish hearts, as ever beat in the midnight camp of the Army of Freedom.