Chattanooga, Thursday, June 1. This day is appointed by the President of the United States as a day of mourning for our honored Lincoln. All business stopped in town. Nothing only heavy duty to be done in camp, consequently we had little to do.
After dinner, hearing that Wilson’s Cavalry were moving through town, I obtained permission to leave camp. Being anxious to see the 1st Wisconsin Cavalry and find Johnny Evans if possible. Reached there as the 2nd Division was moving up Market Street. They presented a rich scene for Harper’s Illustrated, nearly the whole company were astride mules of all sizes and descriptions, the men having but a small portion of the blue on. Anyone would take them for the Confederate States Army. The majority dressed throughout in coarse dirty grey, and often a pair of faded shoulder straps could be seen resting on the shoulders of one in rebel grey and gilt. Then came the negroes, pack mules, carrying anything from a frying pan to a condemned ordnance. Vehicles of chivalric origin drawn by horseflesh, minus the flesh, in silver-mounted harness, and driven by the veritable “peculiar institutions”, for whom our Southern brethern buckled on their armor. It needed but Jeff in crinoline bringing up the rear, to show the last of the said chivalry. McCook’s Division in which is 1st Wisconsin Cavalry was behind. After waiting long I found that they were not coming in to-night so I started home, but not until hearing from one of his comrades that Johnny was all right and well.
To-night I am on another eight hours tread, not to break the rebellion, but my time of serving.
