We can see the Stars and Stripes flying from the dome.

Our pulse leaps with pride when we see the grand old architecture.

We can hear the bugle call, and the playing of the bands of the different regiments in the Federal lines.

Now and then a shell is thrown into our midst from Fort Negley, but no attack or demonstrations on either side.

We bivouac on the cold and hard-frozen ground, and when we walk about, the echo of our footsteps sound like the echo of a tombstone.