Was on guard again last night at the same house. After supper we called up our singing crowd and amused the ladies an hour or so with our camp songs. We have a rara avis in our regiment—he has traveled nearly all over the world, speaks five or six different languages, is highly educated, of high family, a gentleman of culture and refinement, sings everything that has been written, and would be a valuable addition to our crowd—but he is the dirtiest biped this side of the river Styx, and he scratches so frequently and so vehemently that people give him a wide berth.
In the morning, when we returned to camp, we found everything in preparation for the continuation of our march, and soon we were on the road for the Shenandoah, where we expect to remain a day or so.
SOURCE: William S. White, A Diary of the War; or What I Saw of It, pp. 137-8
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