“I had taken with me but a single blanket, and a haversack containing my note-book and a few crackers.  That night in bivouac acquainted me with some of the discomforts of war-making on the Yazoo.  The ground was moist from recent rains, so that dry places were difficult to find.  A fellow-journalist proposed that we unite our blankets, and form a double bed for mutual advantage.  To this I assented.  When my friend came forward, to rest in our combined couch, I found his ‘blanket’ was purely imaginary, having been left on the steamer at his departure.  For a while we ‘doubled,’ but I was soon deserted, on account of the barrenness of my accommodations.

“No fires were allowed, as they might reveal our position to the watchful enemy.  The night was cold.  Ice formed at the edge of the bayou, and there was a thick frost on the little patches of open ground.  A negro who had lived in that region said the swamp usually abounded in moccasins, copperheads, and cane-snakes, in large numbers.  An occasional rustling of the leaves at my side led me to imagine these snakes were endeavoring to make my acquaintance.

“Laying aside my snake fancies, it was too cold to sleep.  As fast as I would fall into a doze, the chill of the atmosphere would steal through my blanket, and remind me of my location.  Half-sleeping and half-waking, I dreamed of every thing disagreeable.  I had visions of Greenland’s icy mountains, of rambles in Siberia, of my long-past midwinter nights in the snow-drifted gorges of Colorado, of shipwreck, and of burning dwellings, and of all moving accidents by flood and field!  These dreams followed each other with a rapidity that far outstripped the workings of the electric telegraph.

“Cold and dampness and snakes and fitful dreams were not the only bodily discomforts.  A dozen horses were loose in camp, and trotting gayly about.  Several times they passed at a careless pace within a yard of my head.  Once the foremost of the caballada jumped directly over me, and was followed by the rest.  My comments on these eccentricities of that noble animal, the horse, provoked the derision rather than the sympathy of those who heard them.

“A teamster, who mistook me for a log, led his mules over me.  A negro, under the same delusion, attempted to convert me into a chair, and another wanted to break me up for fuel, to be used in making a fire after daylight.  Each of these little blunders evoked a gentle remonstrance, that effectually prevented a repetition by the same individual.

“A little past daylight a shell from the Rebel batteries exploded within twenty yards of my position, and warned me that it was time to rise.  To make my toilet, I pulled the sticks and leaves from my hair and beard, and brushed my overcoat with a handful of moss.  I breakfasted on a cracker and a spoonful of whisky.  I gave my horse a handful of corn and a large quantity of leaves.  The former he ate, but the latter he refused to touch.  The column began to move, and I was ready to attend upon its fortunes.”