as
powerful, sah. Dat's my min', sah." And so Tom goes on his way,
confident that the first man was black, and that another white man has
been vanquished in argument.

13. The weather continues oppressively hot. The names of candidates for
admission to the corps _d'Afrique_ continue to pour in. The number has
swelled to eight hundred. We begin our labors at nine, adjourn a few
minutes for lunch, and then continue our work until nearly six.

16. We move at ten o'clock A. M. Had a heavy rain yesterday and a
fearful wind. The morning, however, is clear, and atmosphere delightful.

Our Board has examined one hundred and twenty men. Perhaps forty have
been recommended for commissions.

The present movement will, doubtless, be a very interesting one. A few
days will take us to the Tennessee, and thereafter we shall operate on
new ground. Georgia will be within a few miles of us, the long-suffering
and long-coveted East Tennessee on our left, Central Alabama to our
front and right. A great struggle will undoubtedly soon take place, for
it is not possible that the rebels will give us a foothold south of the
Tennessee until compelled to do it.

21. We are encamped on the banks of Crow creek, three miles northerly
from Stevenson. The table on which I write is under the great beech
trees. Colonel Hobart is sitting near studying Casey. The light of the
new moon is entirely excluded by foliage. On the right and left the
valley is bounded by ranges of mountains eight hundred or a thousand
feet high. Crow creek is within a few feet of me; in fact, the sand
under my feet was deposited by its waters. The army extends along the
Tennessee, from opposite Chattanooga to Bellefonte. Before us, and just
beyond the river, rises a green-mountain wall, whose summit, apparently
as uniform as a garden hedge, seems to mingle with the clouds. Beyond
this are the legions of the enemy, whose signal lights we see nightly.

22. Our Board has resumed its sessions at the Alabama House, Stevenson.
The weather is intensely hot. Father Stanley stripped off his coat and
groaned. Hobart's face was red as the rising sun, and the anxious
candidates for commissions did not certainly resemble cucumbers for
coolness.

Hobart rides a very poor horse--poor in flesh, I mean; but he entertains
the most exalted opinion of the beast. This morning, as we rode from
camp, I thought I would please him by referring to his horse in a
complimentary way. Said I: "Colonel