em as a sort of sacred stream, on
which some day our souls will float away happily to the better country.

12. The parson is in my tent doing his best to extract something solemn
out of Willis' violin. Now he stumbles on a strain of "Sweet Home," then
a scratch of "Lang Syne;" but the latter soon breaks its neck over "Old
Hundred," and all three tunes finally mix up and merge into "I would not
live alway, I ask not to stay," which, for the purpose of steadying his
hand, the parson sings aloud. I look at him and affect surprise that a
reverend gentleman should take any pleasure in so vain and wicked an
instrument, and express a hope that the business of tanning skins has
not utterly demoralized him.

Willis pretends to a taste in music far superior to that of the common
"nigger." He plays a very fine thing, and when I ask what it is,
replies: "Norma, an opera piece." Since the parson's exit he has been
executing "Norma" with great spirit, and, so far as I am able to judge,
with wonderful skill. I doubt not his thoughts are a thousand miles
hence, among brown-skinned wenches, dressed in crimson robes, and
decorated with ponderous ear-drops. In fact, "Norma" is good, and goes
far to carry one out of the wilderness.

13. It is after tattoo. Parson Strong's prayer-meeting has been
dismissed an hour, and the camp is as quiet as if deserted. The day has
been a duplicate of yesterday, cold and windy. To-night the moon is
sailing through a wilderness of clouds, now breaking out and throwing a
mellow light over valley and mountain, then plunging into obscurity, and
leaving all in thick darkness.

Major Keifer, Adjutant Mitchell, and Private Jerroloaman have been
stretching their legs before my fire-place all the evening. The Adjutant
being hopelessly in love, naturally enough gave the conversation a
sentimental turn, and our thoughts have been wandering among the rosy
years when our hearts throbbed under the gleam of one bright particular
star (I mean one each), and our souls alternated between hope and fear,
happiness and despair. Three of us, however, have some experience in
wedded life, and the gallant Adjutant is reasonably confident that he
will obtain further knowledge on the subject if this cruel war ever
comes to an end and his sweetheart survives.

14. The paymaster has been busy. The boys are very bitter against the
sutler, realizing, for the first time, that "sutler's chips" cost money,
and that they have wasted o