To-day we have been ordered back to the old camp of the First Virginia Artillery,
and a lovely spot it is. In front of us is an open field, whilst in our rear is
a sloping hill covered with magnificent oaks; at the foot of this hill meanders
through a grassy dale a silvery stream, and its soft ripple is music sweet to
the ear so long wearied by the continued crash of cannon and the roll of
musketry, mingled with the cries of the wounded and the dying.
SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I
Saw of It, p. 125
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