The Southern Commander-in-Chief, General Johnston, had been killed by a shell in this battle, but the substitution of General Robert E. Lee as Commander led to great reforms in the Confederate Army. Lee at once removed the camps from malarious swamps; he provided supplies of wholesome provisions, and reclothed the hungry, starving and mutinous men, so that in a few weeks they looked stronger, fought better, and behaved as men under discipline. Every evening the countersign was given out, and sentinels were posted to prevent spies crossing the Chickahominy. In the Federal Army were men of many nations--Scotch, Irish, German, Norsemen, and others. It was told of an Irish sentinel that he stopped a stranger. “Halt! Who comes there?” “Me--a friend of the chaplain.” “Have ye the countersign?” “No.” “Faith! an’ if ye were a friend of the divil and had no counthersign ye couldn’t pass this way--not on no account, sor.” “But I tell you I am a friend of your chaplain, and I forgot to ask him for the countersign. Don’t you see?” “Is that it, sor? Then, be jabers! what’s to prevint me giving to ye the counthersign, eh?” “Nothing, I suppose, if you will be so kind.” “Come closer, and, be jabers! I’ll just whisper it in your ear. There! Now stand and answer. Who comes here?” “A friend.” “A friend! Right! and maybe ye have the counthersign?” “I have; it is ‘Good-night, mother.’” “Quite correct, sor. Pass on, and good luck to ye!” A long siege is such dull work that the Northerners used to amuse themselves by chaffing the young negroes when they caught them in the lines. Perhaps they would give the nigger-boy a bit of food, then suddenly say: “Sambo, what relation are you to Jeff Davis’s coachman?” The black eyes would roll and the whites enlarge as the grinning nigger replied: “I ain’t no sort o’ connexion with that ere, sah.” “You’re a Secesh, I reckon.” “No, sah; I’m Union boy.” “Oh, then we shall have to flog you, Sambo. Don’t you know that in this part of McClellan’s army we are all at heart good rebels?” “Lord ha’ mercy! I never thought o’ that; and now I do think on it, I do agree dat I am a bit of a rebel, anyhow.” Then all the listeners would burst out laughing at poor Sambo, and he left the camp befogged and bewildered. Once an old grey-headed negro came into camp, and some young officers began to tackle him. “Think we can take Richmond, boy?” “Dar be right smart o’ men round here, but I dunno ’bout dar being able for to take Richmond, sah.” “‘Right smart o’ men!’” said a Captain. “Why, this is only a flea-bite to what’s coming to eat up the rebel army. You’ll see them coming up like locusts. Here’s McClellan with half a million around here, and there’s Burnside down there, coming from Carolina with a hundred thousand more, and General Banks with two hundred thousand more, and General Fremont--why, he can’t count his men he has so many!”