A score or more of years after the war, when General Hancock was in command of the Department of the East, with headquarters at Governor’s Island, the writer happened in New York and the desire came over him to get a look at his old commander once more. He remembered that in the army there is a great disparity in the rank of a general in command and the boys who beat the drums, therefore he had no thought of a personal interview with the general. But when he was walking off the landing he saw a distinguished looking officer approaching, and recognizing him as the leader he had been proud to follow in other days, something of the old time enthusiasm of those days was rekindled, and as they met the ex-drummer boy saluted and made known his former connection with the general’s old command. No other introduction was necessary. The hearty greeting gave proof that Hancock had a warm place in his heart for the least of his “boys,” as he called them. The general was planning a trip to Sandy Hook for that day to inspect some new ordnance and an invitation was extended to the ex-drummer boy to be one of the party. There were several distinguished officers in the company, but none received more attention from the general than his humble follower of the Sixties. Later the writer exchanged two or three letters with the general and in one he referred to his former command as follows: “Your references to the old 2d Corps bring up many pleasant and sad remembrances. It has always been my regret that it was not in my power to reward every man who served with me as he deserved.” THE SOLDIER’S FARE. A lady said the other day, “Tell us in your next what the men had to eat out at the front, how they managed to do the cooking, washing of clothes,” etc. Well now, the cooking did not bother us one bit, for we did not have anything to cook. When at Cold Harbor we had not had a vegetable for weeks, and beef only twice, and the flesh was so tainted with wild onions, on which the cattle had fed as they were driven through the country, that it could hardly be eaten. Coffee, hard tack, sugar, with a small allowance of salt pork two or three times during a month was what we had to live on. Money would not purchase anything because the sutlers were all sent to the rear when Gen. Grant crossed the Rapidan. Each man carried a little tin pail in which he boiled coffee, holding it over the fire with a stick. A quartet of boys who were making coffee one morning at Cold Harbor had their breakfast spoiled by a piece of a shell dropping into the fire. LAUNDERING ON THE MARCH.