Page:The Story of Aunt Becky's Army-Life .djvu/212

172 time draws near, and go my round as calmly as General Grant surveys the great battle-plain, I would be content. Lieut. Bowen has been here nearly all the evening, on his way home, and I am yet unselfish enough to be glad to see any of them go.

1em It is a beautiful morning, only a high wind sweeps over us, dropping down now and then to flap the white wings of my tent, and then sweep like a whirlwind around us. I had a grand night's sleep, and feel much refreshed. The transport Connecticut leaves, this morning, for Washington, with those able to be moved.

Lieut. Bowen has just left, and the old homesickness creeps over me again—the old longing for children, and friends, and the North, now throwing off the chains of old winter's forging. I shall some time go—when, only the Good Lord knows—not while they need me here, if my heart gnaws itself in the strong agony of despair.

How the wind raves and rages—it has never been so wild since I have been here, and my tent flutters like a hurt bird trying to disentangle itself from the sportsman's net.

The rain is drifting with it now in solid sheets, and my bed is soaking wet, yet I must lie down upon it, or sit up all night and hear the dismal howling of the storm. Both are bad enough, I hardly know which to choose. I think, however, that I will go to to bed, and if my tent blows over, I go with the contents.