What a beautiful
day! How prone we are to note only the stormy days, whilst the days of beauty
seem to be taken as belonging to us by right, and we fail to render thanks unto
Him to whom praise is ever due.
All nature shines
resplendent in the soft beauties of a spring-day morn; the noble oaks and
stately elms are budding forth in all their spring-time loveliness, and the
earth is with verdure clad; even the little chirping birds seem plumed with
brighter colors than is their wont and are singing their songs of joy, bathed
in the mellow morning's light.
Oh! war, horrid war,
too soon your cannon's sound and bugle note may change this lovely scene.
We left camp early
this morning to resume our march into the interior of North Carolina, but were
ordered back to our camp of last night. We are now in Gates county, some eight
or ten miles from the Virginia line.
SOURCE: William S.
White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, p. 114
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