He raised his heart in sincere thanksgiving that he was at last through, for there was nothing more for him to do during the parade, except to stand still, and at its conclusion the Orderly would have to march the company back to its quarters. But his woes had still another chapter. The Inspector-General had come to camp to inspect the regiment, and he was on the ground. Forty years of service in the regular army, with promotion averaging one grade every ten years, making him an old man and a grandfather before he was a Lieutenant-Colonel, had so surcharged Col. Murbank's nature with bitterness as to make even the very air in his vicinity seem roughly astringent. The wicked young Lieutenants who served with him on the Plains used to say that his bark was worse than his bite, because no reasonable bite could ever be so bad as his bark. They even suggested calling him “Peruvian Bark,” because a visit to his quarters was worse than a strong does of quinia. “Yeth, that'th good,” said the lisping wit of the crowd. “Evely bite ith a bit, ain't it? And the wortht mutht be a bitter, ath he ith.” The Colonel believed tha the whole duty of man consisted in loving the army regulations, and in keeping their commandments. The best part of all virtue was to observe them to the letter; the most abhorrent form of vice, to violate or disregard even their minor precepts. His feelings were continually lacerated by contact with volunteers, who cared next to nothing for the FORM of war-making, but everything for its spirit, and the martinet heart within him was bruised and sore when he came upon the ground to inspect the regiment. Alspaugh's blundering in bringing the company into line awakened this ire from a passivity to activity. “I'll have that dunderhead's shoulder-straps off inside of a fortnight,” he muttered between his teeth. The unhappy Lietenant's inability to even stand properly during the parade, or repeat an order intensified his rage. When the parade was dismissed the officers, as usual, sheathed their swords, and forming a line with the Adjutant in the center, marched forward to teh commanding and inspecting officers, and saluted. Then the wrath of the old Inspector became vocable. “What in God's name,” he roared, fixing his glance upon Alspaugh so unmistakably that enve the latter's rainbow-clad girls, who had crowded up closely, could not make a mistake as to the victim of the expletives. “What in God's name, sir,” repeated the old fellow with purpling face, “do you mean by bringing your company on to the ground in that absurd way, sir? Did you think, sir, that it was a hod of brick--with which I have no doubt you are most familiar--that you could dump down any place and any how, sir? Such misconduct is simply disgraceful, sir, I'd have you know. Simply disgraceful, sir.” He paused for breath, but Alspaugh had no word of defense to offer.