August 17, 1863.
Monday. We got cooled off before the day was over, yesterday. A shower came up and a hard gale of wind with it. The rain soaked up the ground so the tent pins pulled out, and one after another our tents went down until only one was left that stuck and hung until a fellow crawled out and started one peg, and then that went. We had to lie on our tents to keep them from blowing away.
A darkey caught a catfish to-day that weighed twenty pounds and one he called a buffalo fish that weighed ten pounds. We have spent a lot of good money for hooks and lines, but so far have not had a bite. I got fast to a log or something, and broke my hook. The weather is cloudy to-day, and there is every sign of a real rain storm.