A few weeks of steady sway made all right again; and during those weeks I felt a perfect exhilaration of health, followed by a month or two of complete prostration, when the work was done.

This passing, I returned to duty, buoyed up by the fallacious hope that the winter months would set me right again.
We had a new camp on Port Royal Island, very pleasantly situated, just out of Beaufort.

It stretched nearly to the edge of a shelving bluff, fringed with pines and overlooking the river; below the bluff was a hard, narrow beach, where one might gallop a mile and bathe at the farther end.

We could look up and down the curving stream, and watch the few vessels that came and went.

Our first encampment had been lower down that same river, and we felt at home.
The new camp was named Camp Shaw, in honor of the noble young officer who had lately fallen at Fort Wagner, under circumstances which had endeared him to all the men.