from the Confederate Army and were recuperating in Europe.
My leave expired, and I returned to the monotony of existence on board of the Georgia. It seemed that we never should get to sea again. Drills, watches, and meals—meals, watches, and drills. I don't think the French cared how long we remained so long as we spent money on imaginary repairs (?).
At last Lieutenant Kirby King and Sydney Smith Lee, the latter a younger brother of General Fitzhugh Lee, were ordered to us, and that put an end to the discomfort of keeping watch and watch, much to my delight. I suppose that our weariness of remaining in an uninteresting port was only equaled by that of the crews of the Kearsarge and the Tuscarora who were tumbling about in the chop seas of the Channel waiting impatiently for us to come out. They would take turns in coming in close enough to the breakwater every day or two to see if we were still there in the harbor, until I think we should have felt neglected if they had failed to take an interest in us and ceased their visits.
