In some tents vocal or instrumental music was a feature of the evening. There was probably not a regiment in the service that did not boast at least one violinist, one banjoist, and a bone player in its ranks—not to mention other instruments generally found associated with these—and one or all of them could be heard in operation, either inside or in a company street, most any pleasant evening. However unskilful the artists, they were sure to be the centre of an interested audience. The usual medley of comic songs and negro melodies comprised the greater part of the entertainment, and, if the space admitted, a jig or clog dance was stepped out on a hard-tack box or other crude platform. Sometimes a real negro was brought in to enliven the occasion by patting and dancing “Juba,” or singing his quaint music. There were always plenty of them in or near camp ready to fill any gap, for they asked nothing better than to be with “Massa Linkum’s Sojers.” But the men played tricks of all descriptions on them, descending at times to most shameful abuse until some one interfered. There were a few of the soldiers who were not satisfied to play a reasonable practical joke, but must bear down with all that the good-natured Ethiopians could stand, and, having the fullest confidence in the friendship of the soldiers, these poor fellows stood much more than human nature should be called to endure without a murmur. Of course they were on the lookout a second time. [Illustration: THE CAMP MINSTRELS.] There was one song which the boys of the old Third Corps used to sing in the fall of 1863, to the tune of “When Johnny comes marching home,” which is an amusing jingle of historical facts. I have not heard it sung since that time, but it ran substantially as follows:— We are the boys of Potomac’s ranks, Hurrah! Hurrah! We are the boys of Potomac’s ranks, We ran with McDowell, retreated with Banks, And we’ll all drink stone blind— Johnny, fill up the bowl. We fought with McClellan, the Rebs, shakes and fever, Hurrah! Hurrah! Then we fought with McClellan, the Rebs, shakes and fever, But Mac joined the navy on reaching James River, And we’ll all drink, etc. Then they gave us John Pope, our patience to tax, Hurrah! Hurrah! Then they gave us John Pope, our patience to tax, Who said that out West he’d seen naught but Gray _backs_.[1] He said his headquarters were in the saddle, Hurrah! Hurrah! He said his headquarters were in the saddle, But Stonewall Jackson made him skedaddle. Then Mac was recalled, but after Antietam, Hurrah! Hurrah! Then Mac was recalled, but after Antietam Abe gave him a rest, he was too slow to beat ’em.