The officers like to have the men come to them with questions, and after repeated invitations issued at general conferences, the men have come to believe it. So there is growing up a little habit of stopping at the captain's tent for a question which often extends into an interchange of ideas from which each side benefits. But they weren't on any technical subject tonight; the men had got the captain talking on the topic of an officer's life, and they had just reached the items of his expenses. I had never particularly thought of this side of the matter before; I knew that an officer is technically a gentleman and must dress as such, but that his pay is so small, his perquisites so few, and his necessary uniforms so many, I had not realized. To tell the truth, the little group of us who listened were really rather shocked that these men who work so hard for the nation are under such burdens. The captain perceived it, and for his own interest suddenly turned the tables on us. "I have been rather frank, gentlemen," he said. "Now I know your expenses are such as you choose to make them; but would you mind telling me how your incomes compare with mine?" The question was perfectly fair, for the men had been pumping him; and they responded at once. "I count on eight thousand yearly from my factory," said one. The next said that his salary was six. The third, with a little embarrassed laugh, admitted that he earned ten thousand. And the next said that last year he cleaned up forty thousand dollars. As you can imagine, these were all men older than the average rookie. They wear their uniforms badly, some of them, being no longer lithe and lissome; and yet the forty thousand dollar man was lean and hard as an Indian. I had so far known him only as a sportsman who loved to talk about big game. The captain, as he listened, nodded gravely at each statement, and when the last had spoken turned his eye on me. I could only tell him the truth--twelve thousand as my salary, and perhaps an equal amount on the side. He drew a long breath. "Well, gentlemen, you have my congratulations. On the other hand, I'm not sorry to have told you these facts about army life. It's well that you civilians should understand conditions. As for myself, I went into the service with my eyes open, and I'm not yet ready to change it." His eye rather lingered on me. I have the impression that he's acutely conscious of my presence whenever I'm about. Is that Vera's doing? Do you suppose she's got him too? Love from DICK. LETTER FROM VERA WADSWORTH TO HER SISTER FRANCES Plattsburg Post, Thursday, Sept. 21. DEAR FRANCES:--