"Our camp may appropriately be called 'Hut Village.' Imagine
several avenues lined with square log huts, surmounted by
tent-coverings. The logs are placed transversely, and are clipped
at the ends, so as to fit each other more compactly. In this way
the interstices are made much narrower than they would otherwise
be. These, moreover, are filled in with mud, which, as you have
probably heard, is a staple production of Virginia. This is a
good protection against the cold, though it does not give our
dwellings a very elegant appearance.

"Around most of our huts shallow trenches are dug, to carry off
the water, thus diminishing the dampness. Most of the huts are
not floored, but mine, fortunately, is an exception to the
general rule. My comrades succeeded in obtaining some boards
somewhere, and we are a little in advance of our neighbors in
this respect.

"Six of us are lodged in a tent. It is pretty close packing, but
we don't stand upon ceremony here. My messmates seem to be
pleasant fellows. I have been most attracted to Frank Grover; a
bright young fellow of eighteen. He tells me that he is an only
son, and his mother is a widow.

" 'Wasn't your mother unwilling to have you come out here?' I
asked him one day.

" 'No,' he answered, 'not unwilling. She was only sorry for the
necessity. When I told her that I felt it to be my duty, she told
me at once to go. She said she would never stand between me and
my country.'