  Chattanooga, Friday, May 19. Rainy and disagreeable. Was wet all day from 5 to 7. I was on post during one of the most sublime and terrific rain storms I have ever witnessed. Two clouds of pitchy darkness swept down upon us from different directions, enveloping all the surrounding hills and meeting over Chattanooga. Poured rain in torrents with thunder and lightning playing high carnival right in our midst. My poncho was poor defense against such a storm, and I was thoroughly wetted. Feel quite unwell, and will go to bed though it is not dark. Chattanooga, Saturday, May 20. Last night I again suffered from chill and very heavy fever, a type of the ague which seems to be a part of my nature. Whatever jars my vital power is certain to bring on ague. Suffered considerable pain under my right shoulder, experiencing some difficulty to breathe at times, a slight attack of pleurisy, I think. Did not arise until breakfast time, did my duty the remainder of the day. No mail yet to speak of, five days' now due. New excitement in camp caused by a new batch of rumors, substance of which is that we are to take muskets and go into these forts instead of the 1st Minnesota Heavy Artillery who are going home, they being but one-year men. Chattanooga, Sunday, May 21. A very pleasant day and I feel pretty well. Inspection at 9 A. M., Lieut. A. Sweet in charge. Much surprised to hear that Captain Hood has tendered 1865 The National Cemetery After dinner Griff and I took a walk to the National Cemetery. Oh, lovely but sacred spot to him who loves the cause of freedom. It is an enclosure of about sixty acres, surrounded by a substantial stone fence in a circular form, it being a sloping hill. The ground is divided off into circular sections, walks macadamized, graves sodded over, and flowers and trees, cultivated, graves systematically arranged in rows. Here lie thousands of the brave defenders of their country's flag, a few with neatly-carved marble slabs bearing name and regiment, but most of them were only identified by a rough, pine board fast decaying, and in a few more months nothing will be left to mark the place where the honored ashes lie. Could the people North who have friends lying here but know that the government is doing all in its power to make this beautiful and permanent would they not at once see that a marble slab would be placed over the earthly remains of those dear ones that are gone before? I believe so. Here were many of the Chickamauga heroes, and those who fell in the memorable battles of Mission Ridge and Chattanooga. Amongst them I noticed a large number of our brave comrades of the 3rd Division, 15th Army Corps, who fell in the fearful vortex of the battle on Tunnel Hill. Here also we found a neatly-printed board, marking the resting place of Robert Banks, who a few weeks ago was full of hilarity amongst us; and lately, I suppose, the last of poor Uncle Marden has been consigned to rest in the lovely spot, the most attractive cemetery I have seen under government [control.] But we could not find his name. Long Chattanooga, Monday, May 22. Heavy rains last night. Fair day. Reveille sounded before four. Were on the drill ground before 6 A. M. for brigade drill, but the ground being so wet, we were sent back without drilling any. Three of us with two hatchets reported at Captain Nicklin's headquarters for duty; he sent us on top of his house to fix the roof where it was leaking very badly on wife's carpets. We were no mechanics and I fear did the job very poorly. This is the way they find work for us to do, now that there is nobody to fight. Very convenient, I suppose they think. After noon went out to the hills grazing. The cherries in the orchard were in fine condition, nice and ripe. Several of us enjoyed a rare treat, left many behind because we could not eat them all. Haywood of our tent gone to the hospital quite sick. Just left home and is downhearted. Chattanooga, Tuesday, May 23. Hot day, feel very well. Morning papers tell us the road is washed away, and no mail expected for two or three days. We'll get all the more when it does come, I guess. Chattanooga, Wednesday, May 24. On guard last night on post No. 3. Battery went on brigade drill under Lieutenant Sweet, who is now in command of the Battery. Hood is a citizen and preparing to go away. Jenawein has received his first-lieutenant appointment, but refuses the seniority. The sickness increasing very rapidly. Diarrhea prevalent. Chattanooga, Thursday, May 25. Drilled two hours in battery drill, and when we returned, received a large mail which was long looked for. I received two which assured me that all was well. After dinner M. U. Hungerford and myself procured a pass, and started to visit the U. S. rolling mill about at mile and a half distant. On our way we ascended Cameron Hill, an elevation about 400 feet above the river. The river side being very steep, an interesting view is to be seen from here. Three large steamships on this side, eight steamboats lying up for repairs over on the docks. Beyond the river cultivated fields look very beautiful. On these hills are three large reservoirs of the Chattanooga water works into which the water is pumped by steam, and carried by its own weight down into the town. Also a large magazine 200 feet long which will be used long after peace is established. On the crown of the hill is a grim-looking war-dog, a 100-pounder Parrott weighing 7,286 pounds, 6.4 inch caliber, maintained on wrought iron carriage, manned by the 1st Minnesota Heavy Artillery. The guard anxiously inquired if we were not ordered to relieve them so they could go home. Poor fellows! 1865 One of Uncle Sam's Factories Now we descended the western slope, and soon found ourselves approaching the center of attraction. The fires were down in most of the furnaces, the workmen at work relining them, but the sight was an interesting one to me, and we could easily trace the process clear through. Old bent-up rails were cut into pieces by a mammoth pair of shears, bundled together, thrown into the furnace, and rolled out into plates six inches wide, half an inch thick. This was cut into pieces about four feet long, six of them put together, heated, and after putting them through four different rolls, came out as a rail for the steam horse of progression to run upon. Two mammoth saws sawed off the ends, leaving it thirty feet long. It was astonishing to find how little human force was needed in the prosecution of this great work. The engine is encased in a glass house, and as nicely polished as parlor furniture. A dreary rain came up, and we got partially wet before reaching camp, which we did in time, and fell in for afternoon drill. Chattanooga, Friday, May 26. Health good. Battery drill from 6 A. M. to 8 A. M., only three cannoneers in second detachment. A big mail when we returned, though none for Jenk. Ambulance went up to the artillery garden this morning and returned with the first fruits of "Charlie's" work, viz. a copious supply of lettuce and mustard salad for dinner and supper, a very rare treat, and highly appreciated. Did us more good than all the medicine in the dispensary. 1865 A Rebel Orchard Grazing in the afternoon. Went near the hill, a party of about a dozen. Knowing where the nice ripe cherries grew, started for the orchard; but behold, we were confronted by a lanky specimen of the refined chivalry, much excited, repeating the orchard was his and threatening to call his safeguard if we did not leave. We told him to bring him on and we would respect him, but he could not. Boasted of protection papers of Thomas, Steedman and many others in his pockets, but could produce only a few old Gazettes. We talked the man crazy. He used many insulting terms under the license of old age, but we, provoked by his attempts to deceive us, made for the cherries and filled ourselves with the rarest of his cherries, but left more than he ever can use, twenty-five acres of them. When we were satisfied, he returned with an old torn piece of paper of Rosecrans's times. We of course respected it and left. He threatened to follow us in and report us, [and] mounted his mule for it. Two or three of the boys staid behind and convinced the old rebel that prudence was the better part of valor, so he staid at home, I guess. It is raining this evening severely. Chattanooga, Saturday, May 27. It is cool enough to appreciate the fire in our "wee" stove until breakfast. Then it grew hot, while we drilled two hours in the morning. Camp thoroughly policed, I delegated to cook our mustard greens for dinner. Had a fine mess, at least it appeared to be well relished. Heard from sister Jane in her new capacity. She appears Captain Hood is busily at work on his final returns. I understand that he will come out all right. Lieutenant Sweet our young and grave commander now is gathering up much of the useless ordnance and quartermaster stores lying around, preparatory to turning them over. Chattanooga, Sunday, May 28. On guard since last night. Wrote three letters to-day between times, think I have done well. Preaching in camp this morning. Our officers attended as well as nearly all the men, a striking evidence of the force of example when shown by those whom we respect. Received a short letter from John, sorry that he thought my speedy arrival home so certain as to warrant its brevity. After dinner Capt. T. R. Hood took an affectionate leave of the Company with which he has been connected ever since its first organization. He left for home to resume the duties of a civilian. He first visited each man in his quarters. With tearful eyes he shook hands. He goes with many kind regards from those he once commanded. Chattanooga, Monday, May 29. Early breakfast this morning. On drill ground by 6 A. M. Brigade drill of five horse batteries. All passed off well. Grazed in the afternoon. Did not go out to the cherry orchard. Orders awaiting our return to police camp thoroughly, as somebody is expected by the morning train to inspect us. Everything still. "Grape vine" quiet. Corporal J. S. Vedder starts for Nashville as clerk to headquarters D. C. One from each battery in the reserve. Health is not above par, though not sick. Feel dull, but am yet able to crush considerable hard-tack. Chattanooga, Tuesday, May 30. Up bright and early, policed around the stables, "blacked boots" and brushed up our brass, etc. But no inspection came, so all of this is in vain. Cool day, Chattanooga, Wednesday, May 31. Had a pleasant drill with the Battery this morning. No mail, but much grape-vine news via "picket rope line", but we have not started for home yet. Drew the "last" forage for the 10th time. Drilled an hour and a half over some dismantled pieces. Bathed in the Tennessee in the evening. Chattanooga, Thursday, June 1. This day is appointed by the President of the United States as a day of mourning for our honored Lincoln. All business stopped in town. Nothing only heavy duty to be done in camp, consequently we had little to do. After dinner, hearing that Wilson's Cavalry were moving through town, I obtained permission to leave camp. Being anxious to see the 1st Wisconsin Cavalry and find Johnny Evans if possible. Reached there as the 2nd Division was moving up Market Street. They presented a rich scene for Harper's Illustrated, nearly the whole company were astride mules of all sizes and descriptions, the men having but a small portion of the blue on. Anyone would take them for the Confederate States Army. The majority dressed throughout in coarse dirty grey, and often a pair of faded shoulder straps could be seen resting on the shoulders of one in rebel grey and gilt. Then came the negroes, pack mules, carrying anything from a frying pan to a condemned ordnance. Vehicles of chivalric origin drawn by horseflesh, minus the flesh, in silver-mounted harness, and driven by the veritable "peculiar institutions", for whom our Southern brethren buckled on their armor. It needed but Jeff in crinoline To-night I am on another eight hours tread, not to break the rebellion, but my time of serving. 1865 A Christian Commission Flirtation Chattanooga, Friday, June 2. Friday morning drilled with Battery for two hours. Very hot indeed. Big mail came in. I received three letters, one of them from Miss Sue J. B. of Ohio, of which I must write before it gets later. About a month ago I obtained a Ladies' Repository with some other magazines from the Christian Commission, on which was written a note with the above address annexed. Thought it no more than justice to thank the donor, and assure her that their efforts were duly appreciated by the soldier. Contrary to my expectations I received an answer requesting a reply, which of course I complied with at some length, giving personal description. And so here comes two sheets to-day. I think she is a "Methodist sister" in the habit of itinerating with her brother, a minister. She forgot to give her age, notwithstanding I gave her mine, consequently I infer she is an old maid. Not very highly accomplished in letter writing, but a good composer and a fine use of language, and a vivid conception of the beautiful. Seems to have received a very favorable impression of me. I did not attempt it. I have revolutionized her ideas. Chattanooga, Saturday, June 3. A hot day for drill in the morning. 1st Division Cavalry Corps lying in camp near Mission Ridge. David Evans went outside and brought in Johnny Evans, looking very fleshy and healthy, natural as ever, but much larger. He staid with us all day. Went home late in the evening. He has seen the elephant, although only in for one year service. I think it has improved him, instilled some wholesome ideas in his mind. Policed camp as usual. No orders for mustering Chattanooga, Sunday, June 4. Inspection 8 A. M. after which Griffith having a pass for three men to pass through the lines, D. J. D. and myself started out. Went by the 1st Cavalry camp which was about three miles down the valley, found Johnny and started forth along the ridge. Found many ripe blackberries and had all we wanted of ripe cherries from the "old man's" orchard. Then we climbed the memorable ridge and followed the summit of Tunnel Hill. Then retraced our steps to camp. Passed Charlie's artillery garden. Looks well, everything kept for the benefit of the shoulder straps of the reserve, though. The privates for whose benefit they claim to have started it, are forgotten. Left Johnny at the picket post, he to his command and we to ours. Reached camp by 5 P. M. somewhat tired but well satisfied with the ramble of the day. Cannot write to John, though. I am sorry. Chattanooga, Monday, June 5. All well. No drill. Orders from Mendenhall to graze from 9 A. M. till 5 P. M., an idea which is preposterous, as the horses would scatter over the whole state if not held. J. G. Simpson, officer of the day. His watch ran slow while in camp, and then it went a-whirring. Started out about 10 A. M., dinner in haversack, crossed the ridge, turned out in a delightful nook among the hills, shady and cool, ate our hard-tack by the cooling spring, and returned to camp by 2 P. M. Drew clothing. Hope it is the last time for me. Wrote two long letters. Am tired. Chattanooga, Tuesday, June 6. A short foot drill in the morning. On guard at night. Has been an awful hot day. A good deal of "muster-out talk." Lieutenant Simpson received a captain's commission this morning. No one dissatisfied. Chattanooga, Wednesday, June 7. Rained a very little last night but not enough to settle the dust. Battery went out to drill, I was on post at the time. Johnny Evans called to bid good-bye, they started for Nashville to-day. Very sultry in midday. I was allowed to sit in the shade and watch the guns, an accommodation seldom granted by officers. Chattanooga, Thursday, June 8. A very hot day. Health very good. Nothing new, one way or another. Received a letter from Thomas which he called "last." Expects me home in a few days. All those whose terms of service expire prior to October 1, are being mustered out at this post except artillery reserve. We are treated with silent contempt or provoking indifference, at least no orders touching us appear. Chattanooga, Friday, June 9. This afternoon a terrible explosion and fire broke out in town about 1 P. M. The large building on the levee, filled with artillery ammunition, took fire from an engine standing by. The reports of bursting shell were heard continuously, and flames and smoke rolled up with great fearfulness. I went down in time to see giant flames envelop 400 feet of warehouses, filled with forage and rations, while the explosions of ammunition, with the fact that a still larger arsenal laid adjacent, liable to blow up at any moment, caused great consternation among the citizens, women and children fleeing in dismay. But the military were cool and on the ground. Guards spread all over town taking in all within their reach to work on the fire engines. Assembly sounded in all the camp, and the reserve artillery, as indeed all others needed, marched down en masse. I followed the 6th. We reached the river bank, one engine playing on one end of the military bridge, which was in imminent danger of taking fire, another working on the roof of the brick arsenal containing 750,000 tons of small ammunition. Strings of men passing buckets. We were double quicked under the fiery breath of the burning machine by Alby Sweet, and set to work on the double-decker water engine. We were playing And now I come to another sorrowful page in my diary. When the imminent danger was over and the flames somewhat checked, some officers, prompted by the devil or some other demon, ordered whiskey barrels rolled out, and the heads knocked in around the engines. And oh, what a change. The strong arms of men working in sober earnestness were stopped by the deadly fires of poisonous drugs termed whiskey, the air rent with yells and oaths, fit only for pandemonium. This to me was heartsickening, and as soon as we could evade the guards, Milt. Hungerford and myself came to camp. About 5 P. M. the others came, but oh, what a sight. Eight or ten raving maniacs. They were not habitual drunkards, many of them heretofore strictly temperate, but under the excitement and heat lost their discretion. Ah! what pain it would have given the loving mother to see her son, her pride, the youth of the family, staggering through our camp in this condition or filled with madness. What chagrin to the loving maiden to see her idol as I did to-night. What agony in the heart of the wife it would awaken to see the husband of her bosom and the father of her children, who but a few months ago only left home with the vow of fidelity to principle and home upon his lips, reeling along or being carried an insensible lump to his bed. Oh, ye Christian churches and temperance lodges, how have thy members disgraced thee to-day. Really, my faith in human nature becomes somewhat shaken by such scenes. Late in the evening another explosion took place among the ruins. A fragment struck John Stewart in the head. Our Battery kept away. Chattanooga, Saturday, June 10. A cloudy sultry day. In vain did we await the coming of a cool refreshing shower which would settle the dust and make us all feel younger; "nary" a drop fell. Drew forage. On duty loading hay in the afternoon. Camp policed, etc. The exciting scenes of yesterday have furnished the subject of conversation to-day and happily "grape-vine" is forgotten. The inebriated look very sheepish and ashamed to-day. Well they might. Seven thousand bales of hay were destroyed yesterday. $250,000 to $500,000 of property destroyed in all. Eight lives lost. One woman broke both arms, many soldiers wounded. 1865 The Soldier and Reviews Chattanooga, Sunday, June 11. Sultry and oppressive weather. Rain still keeps at a distance. The day has passed very quietly. It was with difficulty that I managed to scribble a sheet to Sister Hannah. Read several old numbers of Cincinnati Commercial giving glowing accounts of the grand reviews at Washington, a brilliant thing I have no doubt, but I rather think unpleasant to the soldier. If the lookers-on thought of how the soldier boy would return to camp to munch his "hard-tack" and "sow belly" notwithstanding he has finished up the rebellion, while the pleased spectator returned to his hot biscuit and et ceteras—fewer flowers and more good eating, I say. Chattanooga, Monday, June 12. On guard since last night. Sat quietly in the shade and listened tamely to the wild reports flying, although nobody, except a few yearlings, believed any of them. It is amusing to see what keen interest the arrival of an orderly or the sight of an official envelope excites amongst us. The fact of it is, one day of "muster-out talk" and idleness with apparent uselessness to the government, will create more homesickness than a year of war and active service. Orders directing us to clean harness, etc., preparatory to turning over. Inspection announced at 2 P. M. Camp swept, clothes brushed and buttons polished, then it was postponed to 6:30 P. M. Rained, but it stopped long enough to be inspected by Captain Chattanooga, Tuesday, June 13. Rained a refreshing shower through the night and I slept very sound. Several squads out blackberrying. They are getting ripe. I forgot to tell you that we had blackberry pie last night. One-year men and we '62 recruits are getting wrathy. The orders that reach all other commands except the reserve ought to take us, we think, mustering out all men where term of service expires prior to October 1. One of our boys saw the General to-day. But who cares. I am not so badly excited over this matter, but that I can rest well. Chattanooga, Wednesday, June 14. Another very hot day. No drill of any kind. The other batteries go out every morning. Our officers are very easy on the boys at present. 6th Battery has changed commanders again. Simpson was mustered in this morning as captain and Jenawein as first lieutenant. This leaves a vacancy for second lieutenant soon to be filled by ——, I suppose. If he will be appointed it will cause much dissatisfaction among the men for he is not liked in the least. No "grape-vine" excitement to-day. What is to happen? Chattanooga, Thursday, June 15. Breakfast passed as usual. Charlie Pickard and myself procured a blackberry pass, and armed each with a tin pail, set out while it was yet cool, and we walked fast. We followed the old Georgia Railroad out into Chickamauga Valley, passed the vineyard which we tugged through on the 25th of November, 1863, under the rebel fire. The scene looked very natural, but the houses used as hospitals close by are burnt down, fences repaired and crops growing. Here we conversed with a negro, once a slave but now a free man. When "Massa run, aha," he staid behind, and has forty acres of good corn planted and cultivated by himself for his own benefit. We saw many others industriously engaged for the welfare 1865 Religion in the Mountains Here we found plenty of berries, but not many of them ripe yet, so we marched on, struck Chickamauga Creek, followed it about half a mile to the ferry, when cries and shrieks fell upon our ears, evidently a woman in great agony. Our minds were readily carried back to the time when such cries were often extorted from the poor slaves by the cruel hand of the master. And could it be possible that such a scene was being enacted in this valley now under the very eye of the power that had abolished it? It seemed incredible, yet we feared it, and we hastily turned our steps in the direction of the sound. As we approached, it still became more hideous and different voices could be discerned. Up high on the hill we at last discovered the place whence the noise proceeded, from a rough log negro hut. Passing a neat white house about fifty rods below the shanty, we were informed of the cause by a woman unconcernedly smoking her pipe. She "reckoned they were shouting up there". A little suspecting the cause, yet we were bent on investigation. We met a young woman on the way with long, flowing disheveled hair, looking very much excited. Charley asked "What's the row up there?" "An old 'oman 'fessed 'ligion this morn'". Now we are at the door, and such a sight I never saw before. Here two large negro women and two young white girls, 16 and 17 years old about, from all appearances raving maniacs, still screeching, yelling, jumping, hugging, dancing, crying, shaking hands, and uttering incoherent sentences, foaming at the mouth, with perspiration rolling down their cheeks in streams. No cessation, but each making as much noise as though a dagger was at their hearts. The spell appeared to be partially broken upon one of the girls seeing us. She stopped, looked at us with a mesmeric glare for a few minutes, then shrunk sheepishly into a corner, where she remained quietly until her sister (I suppose) returned to her from covering the negro woman, and commenced We looked on thus for over half an hour. I was filled with amazement and sometimes provoked to laughter. I had heard of such excitement in revival meetings where enthusiastic preachers and brethren were at work, working up the imagination of the victim. But to find it in such a sequestered place with but four solitary women was such as I never dreamt of. The superstitious character and education of the negro caused me to wonder less at them than the white girls, which looked awful. But when I remembered the unconcern of the people in the white house, I concluded it was nothing strange after all for these ignorant people (for I consider it nothing but ignorance of the true standard of the human soul). A revival is going on there, it seems, and the old woman said God had been allowing her to go on in her "devilment" for a long time, but this morning "Jesus stood right squar' in her way and she found him right in the chair," and then again she started. The girls I suppose came to see her and were taken with the influence. I felt it my duty to do what I could to restore these poor creatures to their senses, and believe if I had entered the room and spoken firmly to them in earnest, the spell would be broken and the excitement quieted. But modesty prevented me from making the experiment, and we went on in quest of berries. Found plenty of beautiful ones in a field adjoining, and we soon filled our pails and started for camp in another direction. The shouting which we heard a mile away at first, still continued while we were within hearing. Reached camp before 2 P. M. tired and very warm, having walked at least fourteen miles, well pleased with our success at berrying. Told our story of the revivalists in camp, which caused much amusement. I shall always consider it as one of the greatest psychological phenomena. 1865 Blackberries Once More Chattanooga, Friday, June 16. Rained heavy last night. Called out at 4 A. M. to harness up before breakfast. Out to Chattanooga, Saturday, June 17. Another battery drill this morning; did not go out, being on post. Awful hot. My weekly letters from home have ceased their coming, owing to their expectations of my arrival home. This is making a bad matter worse. Two men received sick furloughs, start to-morrow. Chattanooga, Sunday, June 18. To-day has passed like a hundred others which I have endeavored to note down in my diary. How can I find anything to individualize this day from others, the same mechanical duties, the same lazy nothing to do. The evening closes over us into night quietly. The very atmosphere seems an earnest voice. Discussion is not heard nor the merry laugh of the jester. The soldiers group together under the arbor in front of the quarters, conversing in an undertone of services rendered, hardships endured, and of brave comrades who are no more. With a thoughtful sigh for home and friends I close the book. Chattanooga, Monday, June 19. Grazing day. Started out 8 A. M., crossed the ridge and way out to Chickamauga. Grazed horses on our way back. Made a flank movement on a magnificent patch of dewberries and blackberries. Ordered by our superior officer to "go in". We tied our horses and fulfilled our orders to the letter. Those who had buckets, filled them, those who didn't, did better, staid there an hour. I ate long after berries had ceased to be a luxury. Reached camp 2 P. M. 20th Indiana Battery Heavy Artillery turned their guns over to-day. Has the good work begun? Chattanooga, Tuesday, June 20. Drill early. Returned to get four letters, one from sister Jane, tugging bravely on amidst her sixty-four pupils. The next from Hannah, jubilant at the immediate prospect of relief from her confinement. Third from J. L. Bugs are threatening crops, too bad. Fourth, from Miss B. of Ohio, the "J" in her name converted to "Jones". Judges I am a "literary gentleman", declares she looks with more anxiety for my letters than any other, ha! ha! Keep calm, keep calm! On duty drawing forage. Topic of the day, 20th Indiana Battery going home, guns and horses, etc. turned over. This is looked upon as an opening for the reserve, it being a '62 organization, but it was sent for directly from the State. Other batteries cleaning up harness, etc. Chattanooga, Wednesday, June 21. Griff, D. Evans and myself have contracted for a two days' pass from Captain Simpson. I was excused from guard last night, and this morning 7 A. M., after morning drill, we started out on a bold pedestrian excursion to Lookout Mountain and Lula Lake. Two days' rations of hard-tack and sugar and cup in haversack was all equipage taken along. The "King of Day" came down upon us in full force, but nothing daunted we scaled the point in its precipitous and direct route. Pantingly we reached the photograph gallery and rested. Seized with a sudden desire to carry off some memento of our excursion, we seated ourselves on the cliff and had ourselves taken, by the sun. Carried off our plate picture for $6.50, and on to Lula through Summer Town, and camp of the "Butterfly Brigade" who were all out drilling in their white gloves. 1865 Mountain Scenery Our tramp along the summit of the mountain was a pleasant walk of about eight miles, slightly undulated and timbered with a stunted growth of oaks, with an occasional house and patch of corn. Here as everywhere, enterprising Uncle Sam has his saw mills, shingle machines, etc. But here abruptly amid rocky Climbing the rocks on the south of the stream we worked our way down to the Lula Falls, several hundred yards below. We found the declivity thickly covered with a rich growth of laurel, and fine specimens of huckleberries, which were ripe and nice. We picked our cans full as we went. After climbing down a great many breakneck places we reached the foot of the falls which in beauty is equal, if not superior, to the Lake. It consists of a tiny stream falling from a shelf eighty feet high, perpendicularly dropping over solid rock. In its descent it is broken into a white sheet of spray. We slaked our thirst and mashed our berries in sugar, and ate our dinner with a keen relish. Before leaving, desiring to experience the sensation, we stripped and took a huge shower bath by placing ourselves under the spout. Found the sensation more romantic than pleasant. It fell too hard, but made us clean. The water continued in an eastward direction, and we reasoned that by following it we would come out into Chattanooga Valley and off Lookout Mountain. For a distance of about two miles, we followed this rocky chasm. On either side towering cliffs But by climbing a little raise we at last found ourselves in quiet Chattanooga Valley, ten miles from town, and about 4 P. M., seated 'neath the trees, we picked blackberries. Made sauce for supper again, then walked leisurely toward camp. This valley is good land and well settled. We saw good fields of corn, etc. but little signs of war. The people are the same ignorant, illiterate class. These people seem to have no idea as to distances whatever, showing their general ignorance forcibly. A woman told us "it was a heap o' distance" to Chattanooga; "A right smart ways" to dry valley; "A good chance" to the next house; "Only a bit" to the spring. As night drew on we felt our fatigue and we sought shelter. Asked one man for the privilege of lying down on his porch out of the dew, but he said he "never made a practice of keeping no one", so we concluded to bivouac with a small squad of negro soldiers who were out logging. Having traveled at least fifteen miles we could rest anywhere. Chattanooga, Thursday, June 22. Daylight found us snoring away in a most ridiculous condition, wallowing in the sand around the negroes' fire, but I had a good night's rest. We pulled out early, breakfasted on blackberries, hard-tack and cold water from the spring, then made for camp. It was very hot before we reached it, by 9 A. M. Tired indeed, but of the many excursions of the kind I have participated in, I never enjoyed one better. But things had changed wonderfully while we were gone. Camp in an uproar. Before I entered the tent, a two-months' furlough was thrust in my face, of one of our boys disapproved Chattanooga, Friday, June 23. After a good night's rest, I feel very tired yet. It will take some time to get over the effects of that tramp. Some batteries are cleaning up ordnance, etc. The reserve is gradually dissolving. The command will undoubtedly go home together when it goes at all. Assistant Inspector General —— inspected all our condemned goods, knapsacks and Company property. Chattanooga, Saturday, June 24. A dull, quiet morning until 9 A. M. when I was ordered to the guard house for duty. Three of us reported there. We were to guard prisoners to work on the road leading to water. Kanouse took them out two hours before noon; reported at camp for dinner. After dinner laid in guard house all day. Relieved at night by officer of the day, having done nothing. No great stir. 1865 Last Sunday in Camp Chattanooga, Sunday, June 25. Another Sabbath has been added to the long list of those passed in a soldier's camp, in the same listless, irreverent way. But now that I am once more on the eve of a change, my mind is more reconciled to camp. In contrast, many times during the day have I thought |
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