ANOTHER CHANGE IN THE
LINE.
And now another change has occurred, Capt. Clark of company
B has resigned. If this thing becomes chronic, I am not quite sure but I shall
resign and go home, and then, perhaps, I shall be given a sutler's or horse
doctor's commission and be sent back. Capt. Clark's resignation promotes First
Lieut. Emery to captain, Second Lieut. Draper to first lieutenant, and first
Sergeant John G. McCarter to second lieutenant. This again changes the
formation of the line, and company B finds itself tenth in rank. This leaves
the captain's chances for straddling a horse in the rather dim distance, but
then fame, like other doubtful things, is “mighty onsartin.”
BEAUTIFUL SPRING.
The vernal season is now upon us and nature is arraying
herself in her most beautiful robes. The trees are in leafage, while the yards
and gardens attract the eye with their almost endless variety of plants and
flowers. Roses are in great variety many of them remarkable for their size and
beauty, changing their hues two and three times a day. Beautiful flowering
vines clamber the verandas and porticos of the houses, sending out their sweet
perfume, while the air is filled with the song of birds warbling forth their
happiness. This is really a charming little city, but I reckon from neglect and
hard usage from the soldiers, it will soon lose its beauty. The migratory
birds, such as the robin and thrush, took their leave about the middle of
March. Among the birds of song that remain the mocking bird must be ranked as
king. He is a noble fellow, not remarkably handsome, of a dove color, with a
white spot under his wings. He is a noisy, loud-voiced fellow, an early riser,
commencing his song with the first gray streaks of dawn, and he keeps up an
incessant flow until about 8 o'clock, when he seeks the shade for rest and
quiet. The trees are full of them, and sometimes by the noise they make one
would think the trees were full of all kinds of birds. When he comes down to
his fine work, one unconsciously lays aside whatever he is doing and listens
with delight to his soft warble and the low trembling cadence of his sweet
trills.
SOURCE: David L. Day, My Diary of Rambles with the 25th Mass.
Volunteer Infantry, p. 52-3
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