Chattanooga, Sunday, April 9. Notwithstanding a night as delightful as could be imagined, to-day it rained nearly all day most desolately. Had to ride to the river to water twice, got well soaked every time. We have to go over a mile on account of steep banks. Wrote home. In the evening the spirit moved all in our house and we had singing in variety, good old orthodox hymns mixed in with “John Brown” and “Dixie” most irreverently. It seems to relieve the spirits, but I do not know but it is wicked.
An Artilleryman’s Diary–Jenkin Lloyd Jones
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