e to each of how they were "sufferin' for somethin' to
eat."

The space between the two sections of our battery was occupied by
infantry. I particularly remember the Nineteenth Georgia Regiment, a
game body of men, whose excellent band furnished us fine music. It was
ordered, during the winter, to North Carolina and lost--killed in battle
soon after--its colonel and adjutant, Neil and Turner. A mile in rear of
our lines stood a church, a substantial frame building, which, for want
of better use, was converted into a theater. As in the recent drafting
every department of life had been invaded, a very respectable element
of a histrionic turn was to be found in the ranks. The stage scenery, as
one would imagine, was not gaudy and, of course, did not afford
equipment for high art in the strict sense; but the doleful conditions
of home life now in vogue in the South and the desperate straits for
food and existence in camp afforded a fund of amusement to those of us
who were inclined to pluck sport from hopeless conditions.

One of the performers--named Nash--was a first-rate comedian. As an
interlude he gave a representation of an attempt made by the people to
furnish the army a Christmas dinner. To give an idea of what a failure
such an undertaking would naturally be, when the people themselves were
almost destitute, one thin turkey constituted the share for a regiment
close by us, while our battery did not get so much as a doughnut. Nash,
in taking the thing off, appeared on the stage with a companion to
propound leading questions, and, after answering one query after
another, to explain the meaning of his droll conduct, drew his hand from
the side pocket of his blouse and, with his head thrown back and mouth
wide open, poured a few dry cracker crumbs down his throat. When asked
by the ringman what that act signified, he drawled out, in lugubrious
tones, "Soldier eating Christmas dinner!" The righteous indignation
produced among the few citizens by such sacrilegious use of a church
soon brought our entertainments to a close.

Our time was frequently enlivened by visits to Richmond. By getting a
twenty-four-hour leave we could manage to spend almost forty-eight hours
in the city. On a pass--dated, for instance, January 13--we could leave
camp immediately after reveille and return in time for reveille on the
fifteenth.

That this would be the last winter that Richmond would be the capital of
the Confederacy, or that the