December 24, 1863.
Thursday. Expecting the colonel back any time, and wishing to show him what good housekeepers we are, we got the drummer boys at work to sweep out the quarters and slick up the whole camp. Like boys everywhere, they started in well, but soon got tired. Gorton and I then took hold and helped them finish, and we are ready for anybody's inspection. We gave the boys each a pass to go outside, and after dinner went out to the race track, to see if any races were being run. Nothing much was going on, and after looking at the stables and the horses we came back. As to-morrow is Christmas we went out and made such purchases of good things as our purses would allow, and these we turned over to George and Henry, for safe keeping and for cooking on the morrow. After that we went across the street to see what was in a tent that had lately been put up there. We found it a sort of show. There was a big snake in a show case and a tame black squirrel running around, and sticking his nose into every one's pockets. Then there was another show case filled with cheap-looking jewelry, each piece having a number attached to it. Also a dice cup and dice. For $1.00 one could throw once, and any number of spots that came up would entitle the thrower to the piece of jewelry with a corresponding number on it. Just as it had all been explained to us, a greenhorn-looking chap came in and, after the thing had been explained to him, he said he was always unlucky with dice, but if one of us would throw for him he would risk a dollar, just to see how the game worked. Gorton is such an accommodating fellow I expected he would offer to make the throw for him, but as he said nothing I took the cup and threw seventeen. This the proprietor said was a very lucky number, and he would give the winner $12 in cash or the fine pin that had the seventeen on it. The fellow took the cash, like a sensible man. I thought there was a chance to make my fortune and was going right in to break the bank, when Gorton, who was wiser than I, took me one side and told me not to be a fool; that the greenhorn was one of the gang, and that the money I won for him was already his own. Others had come by this time and I soon saw he was right, and I kept out. We watched the game awhile and then went back to Camp Dudley and to bed.
December 25, 1863.
Friday. Christmas, and I forgot to hang up my stocking. After getting something to eat, we took stock of our eatables and of our pocket-books, and found we could afford a few things we lacked. Gorton said he would invite his horse-jockey friend, James Buchanan, not the ex-president, but a little bit of a man, who rode the races for a living. So taking Tony with me I went up to a nearby market, and bought some oysters, and some steak. This with what we had on hand made us a feast such as we had often wished for in vain. Buchanan came, with his saddle in his coat pocket, for he was due at the track in the afternoon. George and Henry outdid themselves in cooking, and we certainly had a feast. There was not much style about it, but it was satisfying. We had overestimated our capacity, and had enough left for the cooks and drummer boys. Buchanan went to the races, Gorton and I went to sleep, and so passed my second Christmas in Dixie. At night the regiment came back, hungry as wolves. The officers mostly went out for a supper but Gorton and I had little use for supper. We had just begun to feel comfortable. The regiment had no adventures and saw no enemy. They stopped at Baton Rouge and gave the 128th a surprise. Found them well and hearty, and had a real good visit. I was dreadfully sorry I had missed that treat. I would rather have missed my Christmas dinner. They report that Colonel Smith and Adjutant Wilkinson have resigned, to go into the cotton and sugar speculation. The 128th is having a free and easy time, and according to what I am told, discipline is rather slack. But the stuff is in them, and if called on, every man will be found ready for duty. The loose discipline comes of having nothing to do. I don't blame them for having their fun while they can, for there is no telling when they will have the other thing.
December 26, 1863.
Saturday. The steamer Yazoo came in this morning and brought me four letters, one of which was from father. He wants me to come home for a visit, for he has been told I can come now if I want to. Dear old soul, I wonder if he knows how much I want to. I hope now my application for a furlough may be approved. It has been so long now that I had given up thinking about it. I saw Colonel B. and told him how the case stood, that I had neither asked for nor received any special favors since I came out, and would not now if there was anything to do. He says he approved the application I made some time ago, and that he would help me by trying to trace it and see what had become of it. He says there are so many applications for leave of absence that there is nothing strange about their not being heard from, but he will try and find mine and will also try and have it allowed. Good for you, Colonel Bostwick. But what shall I say to father about it? I finally decided to write him just how it is, that I will come if I can get away and that I want to see him as much as he wants to see me, but I did not dare say how many chances there are against my getting away.
December 27, 1863.
Sunday. A heavy rain began early this morning and kept up until 3 P. M. Consequently we have not been able to do more than visit each other in our tents, or ramble about the Cotton Press. After the rain, the lieutenant colonel of the 25th Connecticut came and preached to the men. Another officer came with him, and also spoke. Altogether it was an interesting meeting. After this I settled down to write some letters, for a New York mail goes out to-morrow, and I don't allow any to go without one or more letters of mine. I met with a singular mishap while writing. Lieutenant Gorton had thrown his hat on the table and gone out to visit his neighbors. To get it out of my way I put it on my head and it having a wide brim, my candle set it on fire. The thing did not blaze, but just ate its way across the brim. I smelled it all the time and even looked about to see if any thing was on fire, but never thought of the hat, until I felt the heat and then the hat was ruined. Colonel Parker held a meeting in the hospital to-night and promises to have services in camp now right along. That looks as if our trip to Matagorda Island had been indefinitely postponed.
Father's letter has completely upset me. He needs me for something or he would not have written as he did. But there is just nothing at all that I can do more than I have. If Colonel B. can't bring about my going home I don't know of any one who can. Good night.