We have the Manchester Cornet Band here with us now—they came yesterday. They played in front of the barracks last evening—lots of the good old tunes that you and I have enjoyed together, many a time. ——————— _VII_ CAMP CONSTITUTION, PORTSMOUTH, _June 2, 1861_. Do not know how much longer we will be here, but not more than a few days—perhaps not over a week. Yesterday the First Maine Regiment passed through here. I wish this regiment had been in their place. ——————— _VIII_ CAMP CONSTITUTION, PORTSMOUTH, _June 7, 1861_. Expected I would have a chance to write a long letter today. I was on guard last night, and in the natural course should have had the day to myself. But our company was mustered this forenoon—sworn in for three years’ service—and the regiment has been marching and parading all the afternoon. I was never more tired in all my life. We shall be off in a day or two. Next Tuesday is the time set, but we may not get away until a day or two later. We are very busy getting ready to leave. A number of the boys have taken a notion to get married before leaving for the front, among the number being Eugene Hazewell, E. Norman (nicknamed “Enormous”) Gunnison, and Johnny Ogden, the round-faced Englishman I pointed out to you down by the cemetery, one day. We have lots of fun with the fellows who come creeping into the barracks late at night or early in the morning. All sorts of traps are set, and some one of them generally gets the bird. Sometimes it is the old trick of tinware over the door, which is bound to rouse the whole camp, no matter how carefully the door is opened; or a gun box set on end in the aisle; or a rope stretched across it. Just to bring myself to a realization of how long the three years ahead ought to seem, I have been measuring back to events that transpired three years ago. Three years seems a long time looking into the future, and yet many things that took place three years ago do not seem so very far away. In the depot at Manchester I met Ike Sawyer, who has just got back from sea. I asked him how long he had been gone this time, and he said, “Over three years.” I was surprised that it was so long, and hope the coming three will sort of shorten up in the same way. Our company is now stocking up on mascots. The latest additions are a splendid Newfoundland dog and a pretty maltese cat. Nich. Biglin is going up tomorrow to bid good bye to a large and enthusiastic circle of female admirers. Just now he and Dan Mix are engaged in an animated dispute as to whether a man will get tight on gin sweetened with sugar sooner than if sweetened with molasses, and “Heenan” proposes that they go out and experiment. ——————— _IX_