there I saw the burying parties in this place still at work.
This gloomy night's work had at least one humorous incident.
Our worthy commander, Comrade Hugh R. Smith, then adjutant of the Twelfth, I am glad to know, lives to-day to vouch for the correctness of what I am about to narrate:
Comrade Smith had selected for his night's rest a grassy spot near the men in the trench, all of whom, except those on guard or special duty, were fast asleep, and like them was wrapt in the arms of Morpheus.
He had the advantage of his sleeping comrades, in that he had a soft and cool bed of grass upon which to rest; but he was in close vicinity to the pile of dead men then being buried.
Things, however, were fairly evened up, when, some time during the small hours of the night, one of the negro prisoners, looking out for a corpse to bury, seized our gallant adjutant by the ankle and was hurrying him to the grave, when the adjutant, not then ready to be buried, awoke, to the great consternat