home to
Mary and have a shortcake. But no--wait awhile. I'll take them to camp
and make some for supper, in hopes for something nicer in the future.

Before Vicksburg, Sunday, June 7. Matters even here within hearing of
the enemy's voices are settling into a dull monotony. The crack of the
sharp-shooters fails to make an impression on the accustomed ear, and
the occasional roll of cannon is as a mother's lullaby to drop us to
sleep. Happily knapsacks at last arrived from Millikens Bend. The volume
of _Atlantic Monthlies_ sent me by Brother Thomas gave me much pleasure
in perusing.

Before Vicksburg, Monday, June 8. Unusually quiet during the day, our
ammunition being scarce, none at the arsenal, and we used it sparingly
for fear of an emergency. George Spencer, David Evans and myself
remodelled our shelving, which, for want of something else is this: a
shelf dug in the hillside, two feet deep above and long enough to lie
down, covered with a double roof of cane-thatch. And this is what we
call our home. Yes, it is filled with the dear ones here in mind if not
in body.

Before Vicksburg, Tuesday, June 9. A sharp engagement took place on our
right last night which almost approached a battle. General Logan was
advancing a cotton cased car under the enemy's feet with the intention
of running up in this a battery into the rebels' works. He had been
working on it for several nights and was progressing fine, but slow, as
he had to dig by the sharp-shooters. Kept the rebs down by discharging
frequent volleys in the dark, but last night they returned it with much
zeal, and threw rockets over their works which accomplished its aim and
burned the cotton to the ground. Our artillery soon made things quiet.
The caisson gone to the landing this morning for ammunition. Geo. took
his team for the 6th Wisconsin.

I am here all alone to-day, a thing unusual. For awhile I found ample
company in reading the _Monthlies_, but my mind wanders way back to dear
Wisconsin, and a strange feeling of lonesomeness comes over me as I lie
here in this, what now looks like the hermit's retreat.

[Sidenote: 1863 June Weather]

Before Vicksburg, Wednesday, June 10. A heavy rain storm came on early
and continued all day. The dusty valley was converted into a bed of a
wild rushing stream. Kept middling dry until evening, when we went to
help bring a limber down the hill, it being too slippery for the horses.
Got thoroughly drenched and slept