e are going out to take a
farewell look at some of our old haunts. Our friends are all out of the
city, and Jackson Barracks is too far away for such a warm day--besides,
there is no one there now that we know.

It seems quite natural to be in this dear old hotel, where all during
the past winter our "Army and Navy Club" cotillons were danced every two
weeks. And they were such beautiful affairs, with two splendid military
orchestras to furnish the music, one for the dancing and one to give
choice selections in between the figures. We will carry with us to the
snow and ice of the Rocky Mountains many, many delightful memories of
New Orleans, where the French element gives a charm to everything. The
Mardi-Gras parades, in which the regiment has each year taken such
a prominent part--the courtly Rex balls--the balls of Comus--the
delightful Creole balls in Grunewald Hall--the stately and exclusive
balls of the Washington Artillery in their own splendid hall--the
charming dancing receptions on the ironclad monitor Canonicus, also the
war ship Plymouth, where we were almost afraid to step, things were
so immaculate and shiny--and then our own pretty army fetes at Jackson
Barracks--regimental headquarters--each and all will be remembered, ever
with the keenest pleasure.

But the event in the South that has made the deepest impression of all
occurred at Vicksburg, where for three weeks we lived in the same house,
en famille and intimately, with Jefferson Davis! I consider that to have
been a really wonderful experience. You probably can recall a little of
what I wrote you at the time--how we were boarding with his niece in her
splendid home when he came to visit her.

I remember so well the day he arrived. He knew, of course, that an
army officer was in the house, and Mrs. Porterfield had told us of his
coming, so the meeting was not unexpected. Still, when we went down to
dinner that night I was almost shivering from nervousness, although the
air was excessively warm. I was so afraid of something unpleasant coming
up, for although Mrs. Porterfield and her daughter were women of culture
and refinement, they were also rebels to the very quick, and never
failed at any time to remind one that their uncle was "President" Davis!
And then, as we went in the large dining room, Faye in his very bluest,
shiniest uniform, looked as if he might be Uncle Sam himself.

But there was nothing to fear--nothing whatever. A tall, thin old m