In moving along, near the city we came to a great sink in the ground, caused by nature’s upheaval at some remote period, covering an acre or two of space.  It seemed to have been a feeding place for hogs from time immemorial, for corn cobs covered the earth for a foot or more in depth.  In this place some of our troops were posted to avoid the shells, the enemy having an exact range of this position.  They began throwing shells right and left and bursting them just over our heads, the fragments flying in every direction.  At every discharge, and before the shell reached us, the men would cling to the sides of the sloping sink, or burrow deeper in the cobs, until they had their bodies almost covered.  A little man of my company, while a good soldier, had a perfect aversion to cannon shot, and as a shell would burst just overhead, his body was seen to scringe, tremble, and go still deeper among the cobs.  Some mischievous comrade took advantage of his position, seized a good sound cob, then just as a shell bursted overhead, the trembling little fellow all flattened out, he struck him a stunning blow on the back.  Such a yell as he set up was scarcely ever heard.  Throwing the cobs in every direction, he cried out, “Oh!  I am killed; I am killed!  Ambulance corps!  Ambulance corps!” But the laugh of the men soon convinced him his wound was more imaginary than real so he turned over and commenced to burrow again like a mole.

Rosecrans having withdrawn his entire force within the fortifications around Chattanooga, our troops were placed in camp, surrounding the enemy in a semi-circle, and began to fortify.  Kershaw’s Brigade was stationed around a large dwelling in a grove, just in front of Chattanooga, and something over a mile distant from the city, but in plain view.  We had very pleasant quarters in the large grove surrounding the house, and, in fact, some took possession of the porches and outhouses.  This, I think, is the point Grant stormed a few months afterwards, and broke through the lines of Bragg.  We had built very substantial breastworks, and our troops would have thought themselves safe and secure against the charge of Grant’s whole army behind such works.

If those who are unfamiliar with the life of the soldier imagines it is one long funeral procession, without any breaks of humor, they are away off from the real facts.  The soldier is much the same as the schoolboy.  He must have some vent through which the ebullition of good feelings can blow off, else the machinery bursts.

While encamped around this house, a cruel joke was played upon Captain—­well we will call him Jones; that was not his name, however, but near enough to it to answer our purpose.  Now this Captain Jones, as we call him, was engaged to be married to one of the fairest flowers in the Palmetto State, a perfect queen among beauties—­cultured, vivacious, and belonging to one of the oldest families in that Commonwealth of Blue Bloods.  The many