To-day the rain-drops fall silently and persistently—no wind drives it against the walls of my cloth house, but the constant patter, patter soothes me beyond measure, when some days it would drive me wild. When my mood is right, I like a calm, steady rain like this; but when gusty winds drive it into frozen sleet, and my stove-pipe falls off, and it burns and blackens me in efforts to replace it, I can safely say it is not entirely agreeable to the deponent.
The rain continues, and I could not get about much, the mud was so deep and sticky. My tent leaks under the drenching, and I am not very comfortable, as I sit tucked up in my seat, feeling the chilly March air an unwelcome invader to-night. We have quite a large number of sick now—two from my own regiment, not in danger however.
The paymaster has made his welcome appearance, and the little strips of green paper were eagerly gathered up, and some changed hands rapidly. It is the staff of life as well as the bread, and nowhere better appreciated, when gone, than in the ranks of the Volunteer Army.
Still the clouds pour down their showers, yet I have waded out to see the sick, and have found some very low. How I wish they could be sent home, to be cared for by the hands of those who love them.
Miss Blackman, from the Second Corps, has been
