Camp at Lagrange, Tenn., November 17, 1862.
Our whole regiment went on picket Saturday evening. Didn’t reach our posts until 9:30 p.m. Had plenty of fresh meat next day (notwithstanding stringent orders), and beautiful weather. Our going on picket saved us a tramp of 22 miles, for which I am duly grateful. They had a scare at Summerville while we we were out; our brigade (except we who were on duty) were started out, nobody hurt, happy to chronicle. Squads of prisoners taken by our cavalry are constantly arriving from the front. Very little skirmishing though, mostly unarmed citizens, etc. There are an immense number of slaves at the different military posts through here and in this vicinity. The officials are using them to good advantage in securing the large crops of cotton to the Government. The camps are overflowing with them, and their music and dancing furnish the boys with amusement unlimited. Don’t have half the fun with the natives that I used to, in fact haven’t spoken to any since I have been out this time. Guess I’m steadying down some. Like soldiering as well as ever but the novelty’s gone, and its more like a regular way of living to me than a spree as it used to be. Don’t see any immediate prospect of a move, but a chap can’t tell what any symptom means here. I’d bet several times that we’re on the point of starting. We have been reviewed twice within four days by Grant, McPherson, McKean, Logan and Pugh.