There are few idle moments in camp, for the duties of the soldier are too numerous to afford him that leisure which permits of homesickness. He has letters to write home, old ones to read; then, too, his spare time is occupied in looking for something to eat which his knapsack doesn't hold--not because his rations are scanty, or he is hungry, but he grows tired of the regular diet. He is always doing duty, police or fatigue, and the perpetual drilling, all keep him busy. {076} [Illustration: 0084] Mending clothes became quite an art among the soldiers, and the manner in which some of them darned their stockings would reflect credit upon {077}many a housewife who has the reputation of being an ex pert seamstress. Wash day in camp was as important an occasion as it is at home, and preparations were made with as much regard to convenience as the surroundings would permit. [Illustration: 0085] Ralph was very fond of running into old “Aunt Judah's” cabin, for her “pones” were especially toothsome. The old negress was not handsome--her black skin was shriveled and seamed with age; she was nearly blind, but she was an admirable cook. “Massa,” she said to Ralph one day, when she had filled his knapsack with smoking hot pone and luscious sweet potatoes, whose pulp was as golden as the sunflower's petals,--“I'se been pondering in my own min' and I kaint see what you all is fighting 'bout. Clar to goodness I kaint.” {078} [Illustration: 0086] “We {079}are fighting to make the Southerners come back into the Union.” “De Union? What you mean by dat?” “The Union--the States. There are thirty-five States, and how many slabes does he own?” “None at all. We don't have slaves up North.” “Don't hab slabes? Who totes your water and picks de cotton and hoes de fields?” “We don't grow any cotton, and all our work is done by people whom we hire and pay money to.” The old slave's eyes opened wide with curiosity. “And when dey gets sassy, does de oberseer whip 'em?” Ralph laughed heartily as he thought of the suit for assault and battery whipping a servant up North would bring about. Here was an old colored woman as ignorant of her relationship to the great tide of humanity as a child. Born in the West in a little village where no negroes were to be found, he had seldom met one. The old woman seemed to be talking to herself. “It pears to me dey must be dissbedient and sassy sumtimes. All niggers are. Wonder how dey makes dem mind. When dey runs across a right smart uppish cullered pusson how do dey settle wid him? Did you say, massa, dey neber whip dem?” “No, auntie, they never do.” Aunt Judah shook her head doubtingly. “Massa.” “The one man governs the whole of them. Your old masters didn't like the man who was chosen, and so they said they wouldn't stay in the Union to be governed by him.” “Is dat man a big man? Does he b'long to a good family?”