vide up, and
by the immutable law of camps it was always proper to hang a choice
piece of mutton or pork at the door of the officers' tent. This helped
to soothe the conscience of the men and pave the way to immunity
from punishment. The stereotyped orders were issued every night for
"Captains to keep their men in camp," but the orders were as often
disregarded as obeyed. It was one of those cases where orders are more
regarded "in the breach than in the observance." Officers winked
at it, if not actually countenancing the practice, of "foraging for
something to eat." Then again the old argument presented itself, "If
we don't take it the Yankees will," so there you were.

Most of the soldiers took the opportunity of visiting Lookout Mountain
and feasting their eyes upon the finest scenery of the South. While
they had crossed and recrossed the Blue Ridge and the many ranges of
lesser note in Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania--had gazed with
wonder and admiration at the windings of the Potomac and Shenandoah
from the Heights of Maryland overlooking Harper's Ferry--yet all these
were nothing as compared to the view from Lookout Mountain. Standing
on its brow, we could see the beautiful blue waters of the Tennessee
flowing apparently at our feet, but in reality a mile or two distant.
Beyond lay the city of Chattanooga, nestling down in the bend of the
river, while away in the distance occasional glimpses of the stream
could be had as it wound in and out around the hills and mountains
that lined its either side, until the great river looked no larger
than a mountain brooklet. From the highest peak of Lookout Mountain we
catch faint streaks of far away Alabama; on the right, North Carolina;
to the north, Tennessee; and to the south and east were Georgia and
our own dear South Carolina. From this place many of our soldiers cast
the last lingering look at the land they loved so well. On the plateau
of the mountain was a beautiful lake of several acres in extent,
surrounded by lovely little villas and summer houses, these all
hurriedly deserted by the necessities of war--the furniture and
fixtures left all in place as the owners took their hastened
departure. In one house we visited was left a handsome piano, on which
those who could perform gave the soldiers delightful music.

There was a roadway winding around the base of the mountain and
gradually up its slopes to the plateau above, where wagons and other
vehicles passed