ns to give color and interest to the
scene.

27. Our horses are on quarter feed.

Some benevolent gentleman should suggest a sanitary fair for the benefit
of the disabled horses and mules of the Federal army. There is no
suffering so intense as theirs. They are driven, with whip and spur, on
half and quarter food, until they drop from exhaustion, and then
abandoned to die in the mud-hole where they fall. At Parker's Gap, on
our return from Tennessee, I saw a poor white horse that had been rolled
down the hill to get it out of the road. It had lodged against a fallen
tree, feet uppermost; to get up the hill was impossible, and to roll
down certain destruction. So the poor brute lay there, looking pitiful
enough, his big frame trembling with fright, his great eyes looking
anxiously, imploringly for help. A man can give vent to his sufferings,
he can ask for assistance, he can find some relief either in crying,
praying, or cursing; but for the poor exhausted and abandoned beast
there is no help, no relief, no hope.

To-day we picked up, on the battle-field of Chickamauga, the skull of a
man who had been shot in the head. It was smooth, white, and glossy. A
little over three months ago this skull was full of life, hope, and
ambition. He who carried it into battle had, doubtless, mother, sisters,
friends, whose happiness was, to some extent, dependent upon him. They
mourn for him now, unless, possibly, they hope still to hear that he is
safe and well. Vain hope. Sun, rain, and crows have united in the work
of stripping the flesh from his bones, and while the greater part of
these lay whitening where they fell, the skull has been rolling about
the field the sport and plaything of the winds. This is war, and amid
such scenes we are supposed to think of the amount of our salary, and of
what the newspapers may say of us.

28. One of my orderlies approached me on my weak side to-day, by
presenting me four cigars. Cigars are now rarely seen in camp. Sutlers
have not been permitted to come further south than Bridgeport; and had
it not been for the trip into East Tennessee the brigade would have been
utterly destitute of tobacco.

While bivouacking on the Hiawasse, a citizen named Trotter, came into
camp. He was an old man, and professed to be loyal. I interrogated him
on the tobacco question. He replied, "The crap has been mitey poor fur a
year or two. I don't use terbacker myself, but my wife used to chaw it;
but the frost h