and luckily went in with
a squad under Sergeant Proctor to take breakfast, which did me a power
of good, especially the hot coffee (getting old fogy). The remainder of
the journey without event.

Rounded the point of Old Lookout handsomely 12 M. and soon found
ourselves once more in the Hawk's Nest 3 P. M. Got to the "dumping off"
place, and by dark we were in camp on a pretty knoll east of town. Stove
up, fire in it and all hands merry as a lark. How jolly a life does the
soldier lead.

Chattanooga, Sunday, Feb. 19. A most beautiful day has passed. It seems
as though we have been suddenly transferred from midwinter to beautiful
summer. The sun shone in its softest mood, everybody outdoors to bask in
its rays, content to enjoy it alone. We are camped opposite the old city
cemetery. Many of both sexes have been paying their visit to the dead,
some to satisfy idle curiosity, others to view once more the spot where
lies some home idol. It is in a shocking state of repair, and bore sad
evidence of the ravage of war, fences all gone, graves overrun, marble
slabs misplaced and marble monuments broken. The soldiers have even been
carrying off the tombstones of the dead to be used in their quarters.
Thoughtless sacrilege. We have had a guard on all day to prevent such
proceedings by order of the pro[vost] marshal.

The soft twilight was too pleasant to lie still, so D. Evans, who has
come to stay with us, Griff, and myself started off for a walk. On our
way the peal of the church bell fell on our ears, calling us thither,
but we found the house overflowing. Returned to camp. Boys sang sweet
home music till taps, and lights put out.

Chattanooga, Monday, Feb. 20. Another enchanting day and great
exuberance of spirits is to be seen in camp, ball and other active
outdoor amusements being the order of the day. On guard. Do not have to
stand till night, watching mules, etc. We are surrounded by artillery
camps, batteries that have laid here all winter. Have beautiful camps
and excellent houses (not shebangs) to live in. Much more attention is
paid to the soldiers than at Nashville, all seem happy at the change.
The fever of example is wonderful. Our officers have already absorbed
the spirit of other batteries, and require everything done according to
"military", or in camp slang, "put on style". Right, a good sign of
discipline. Lieutenant Silsby, formerly my old teacher, came to see us.
Looking well, glad to see him.