Fortunately for their future comfort, the Harris Light Cavalry, at the very outset of its military career, was placed under the charge of a rigid and skilful disciplinarian--one Captain A. N. Duffie--who, having graduated honorably at the celebrated French military school, St. Cyr, possessed all the martial enthusiasm as well as personal peculiarities of his excitable countrymen. The captain either was, or believed himself to be, an eloquent speaker, and his efforts at rhetorical display, added to his French pronunciation of English words, became a source of great amusement to the men. He was wont to harangue them, as if they were about to enter upon a sanguinary battle. The old stone walls of the peaceful farm were pictured as bristling with the enemy's bayonets, and the boys were called on to "charge" at the hidden foe and capture him. "One morning," says Captain Glazier, "after a week spent in drill, we were all surprised by receiving an order to 'fall into line,' and discovered that the object of this movement was to listen to a Napoleonic harangue from Captain Duffie. So loud had been our protests, so manifest our rebellious spirit on the subject of fortifying a peaceful farm on the banks of the Hudson, that the captain undoubtedly feared he might not be very zealously supported by us in his future movements, and, like Napoleon on assuming command of the Army of Italy, sought to test the devotion of his men. After amusing us a-while in broken English, appealing to our patriotism and honor, he at length shouted: "'Now, as many of you as are ready to follow me to the cannon's mouth, take one step to the front!' "This _ruse_ was perfectly successful, and the whole line took the desired step." The time passed pleasantly enough in this camp of instruction, despite the monotony of drill and guard duty, and, by the time the order to break camp reached the men, they were well advanced in the duties of the soldier. The regiment left Camp Howe about the end of August, and, passing through New York, entered that most beautiful and patriotic of cities, Philadelphia, where they were royally entertained by the managers of the "Volunteer Refreshment Saloon." They at length reached Washington and encamped a half mile beyond the Capitol. From this point Glazier writes to his mother as follows: Camp Oregon, Near Washington, D.C., _August 25th, 1861_. Dear Mother: I am at present seated under the branches of a large peach tree that marks the spot where two sentinels of our army, while on duty last night, were shot by the rebels. I was one of the same guard, having been assigned to such duty for the first time since entering the service. Like all other sentinels, I was obliged to walk my lonely beat with drawn sabre.