Chattanooga, Thursday, March 2. Rained fine and constant all night and all day, but we are dry and comfortable in our bed of sawdust. Read Tennyson’s new poem Enoch Arden this forenoon, and think it one of the finest poems I have ever read in English. Wrote to T. L. and read an old Atlantic Monthly in the afternoon. No mail for me.
An Artilleryman’s Diary–Jenkin Lloyd Jones
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