Vicksburg, Wednesday, July 8. No immediate prospect of moving. Boys busy putting up tents, shades, etc. I strolled among the Alabams on the right. Got a “fly” fixed for which we had use. Found some of the greenest specimens of humanity I think, in the universe, their ignorance being little less than that of the slave they despise, with as imperfect a dialect. They “reckoned as how you ‘uns all would be a heap wus to we ‘uns all”. They wished they could come back to the old Union again.
An Artilleryman’s Diary–Jenkin Lloyd Jones
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