The captain did not “jump on us” as we had expected. 'The self-styled old soldiers had warned us that we would be sent to the guard house. The captain had seen service at the front, and had been through the mill as a recruit when the First Battalion was organized. He knew that it was not the fault of the privates that their clothes did not fit them. This fact seemed to escape the attention of many commissioned officers, and not a few recruits were censured in the presence of their comrades by thoughtless captains, because the boys had not been built to fill out jackets and trousers that had been made by basting together pieces of cloth cut on the bias and every other style, but without any regard to shapes, sizes or patterns. CHAPTER III. _The Buglers' Drill--Getting Used to the Calls--No Ear for Music--A Visitor from Home--A Basket full of Goodies--Taking Tintypes--A Special Artist at the Battle of Bull Run--Horses for the Troopers--Reviewed by a War Governor--Leaving Camp Meigs--A Mother's Prayers--The Emancipation Proclamation--The War Governors' Address._ [Illustration: 9043] HOULD there be living to-day a survivor of Sheridan's Cavalry Corps of the Army of the Potomac who can, without shuddering, recall the buglers' drill, his probationary period on earth must be rapidly drawing to a close. I do not mean the regular bugle calls of camp or those sounded on company or battalion parade. I refer to the babel of bugle blasts kept up by the recruit “musicians” from the sounding of the first call for reveille till taps. A majority of the boys enlisted as buglers could not at first make a noise--not even a little toot--on their instruments, but when, under the instruction of a veteran bugler, they had mastered the art of filling their horns and producing sound they made up for lost time with a vengeance. And what a chorus! Reveille, stable call, breakfast call, sick call, drill call retreat, tattoo, taps--all the calls, or what the little fellows could do at them, were sounded at one time with agonizing effect. The first sergeant of Company I said to me one day while we were in Camp Meigs: “The adjutant wants more buglers, and he spoke of you as being one of the light weights suitable for the job. You may go and report to the adjutant.” “I didn't enlist to be a bugler; I'm a full-fledged soldier.” “But you're young enough to bugle.” “I'm twenty-one on the muster-roll. I want to serve in the ranks.” “Can't help it; you'll have to try your hand.” I reported to the adjutant as directed, and was sent with a half-dozen other recruits to be tested by the chief trumpeter. After a trial of ten minutes the instructor discovered that there was no promise of my development into a bugler, and he said with considerable emphasis: “You go back mit you to de adjutant and tell him dot you no got one ear for de music.” I was glad to report back to the company, for I preferred to serve as a private.