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John Beatty, The Citizen-Soldier; or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, December, 1862. (search)
erful reminders that the enemy was near. At an expense of one dollar and seventy-five cents, I procured a small turkey and had a Christmas dinner; but it lacked the collaterals, and was a failure. For twenty months now I have been a sojourner in camps, a dweller in tents, going hither and yon, at all hours of the day and night, in all sorts of weather, sleeping for weeks at a stretch without shelter, and yet I have been strong and healthy. How very thankfill I should feel on this Christmas night! There goes the boom of a cannon at the front. December, 26 This morning we started south on the Franklin road. When some ten miles away from Nashville, we turned toward Murfreesboro, and are now encamped in the woods, near the head-waters of the Little Harpeth. The march was exceedingly unpleasant. Rain began to fall about the time of starting, and continued to pour down heavily for four hours, wetting us all thoroughy. I have command of the brigade. December, 27
John Beatty, The Citizen-Soldier; or, Memoirs of a Volunteer, January, 1863. (search)
long rain has completely saturated the ground. The floor of my tent is muddy; but my bed will be dry, and as I have not had my clothes off for three days, I look forward to a comfortable night's rest. The picture in Harper, of Christmas eve, will bring tears to the eyes of many a poor fellow shivering over the camp-fire in this winter season. The children in the crib, the stockings in which Santa Claus deposits his treasures, recall the pleasantest night of the year. Speaking of Christmas reminds me of the mistletoe bough. Mistletoe abounds here. Old, leafless trees are covered and green with it. It was in blossom a week or two ago, if we may call its white wax-like berries blossoms. They are known as Christmas blossoms. The vine takes root in the bark — in any crack, hole, or crevice of the tree-and continues green all winter. The berries grow in clusters. January, 16 I have as guests Mr. and Mrs. Johnson House, my old neighbors. They have come from their quiet