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the woods about 4 miles off—some on horseback— others in a four wheeled farm wagon called by the people on the plantation reverentially “the buggy” — shutters are taken down and laid across for seats, then restored to their legitimate office on returning.
Harness chiefly rope of various dates.
. . . A great dilapidated parlor with hardly a whole pane; and a vast blazing fireplace oa evenings, with arms and accoutrements hung all about, and people reading, working or playing perennial Euchre, with which Dr. Rogers, bless him, demoralized the regiment forever.
By day or night there are interminable rides through woodpaths over the whole island to the different picquet stations . . . your favorite yellow jasmine high and nodding and fragrant and abundant everywhere.
One day
Colonel Higginson mentioned in his journal that a few mysterious guns had been fired by the
Confederate picket.
Next day there was a Flag of Truce and a courteous young Captain from the other side was asked for information, as it is usually the understanding that the picquets will not fire or be fired on. He only answered, smiling, “You gentlemen are training your Buckinghams (which, it seems, is now their cant phrase for colored soldiers) to shell us from the gunboats, and this little bombardment was our only way to retaliate.”
