Rain! rain! rain! since yesterday noon. And such a night!
Pouring water, India-rubber blankets! Dripping from the branches and leaves of
my bower like a damp cave with its dropping stalactites. A leak here and a wet
place there on the bed. A sudden, more violent shower. The Doctor wakes in his
bower, and says, “By Jove, I might as well try to sleep on lily-pads in a pond.”
The Major cachinates. The Colonel rouses himself and laughs in his dribbling
bower. Doctor, again: “There, my pistol is wet to the skin.” At last, morning,
and still rain. So we go. To-morrow, sun again. I wish you all health and
happiness. Let us pray for a strong government, bent on immediate war.
SOURCE: Elizabeth Amelia Dwight, Editor, Life and
Letters of Wilder Dwight: Lieut.-Col. Second Mass. Inf. Vols., p. 72
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