Three Years in the Confederate Horse Artillery — George Michael Neese.

August 8 — A farmer from the neighborhood drove into camp to-day with a load of watermelons. He also had a keg of something in his wagon that he called cider-oil, but judging from the sportive effects it produced all over camp the cider had something else in it much stronger than common apple juice, for it had more fun and merriment mixed with it to the square inch than any cider that I ever saw or tasted. Soon after the delicious and palatable draught passed the palate dull care and the wearisome monotony of camp life began to hie away and hide in the woods, while innocent mirth, jollity, and fun ruled the hour and hilarity reveled and reigned in its merriest glee. Some of the men were making happy little stump speeches, while others were singing comical songs, as “A little more cider for Miss Dinah,” etc. Some of the boys got a little lower down and were crawling around on all fours and trying to squeal like pigs. The whole pleasant comedy commenced and ended in frolicsome fun, and it was undoubtedly the merriest afternoon that the old battery has ever seen, and in days and years to come cherished memories will ofttimes return and lift the curtain of time and gaze with playful delight on the joyous scene of cider-oil day on the banks of Stony Creek in the pines of Sussex.