May 18, 1862: Clayton
Today has been a very quiet day. We pitched the tent in a new place this morning, for the grass was worn out in the old site and we needed a “new carpet.” The boys went down to town, but a few rods distant, where a new brewery has just been started, bought a barrel of lager, brought it up in a wheelbarrow, and it reposes under a tree. Now they are out by the camp fire—it is evening—and have drawn a pail of it. I look out and see them lying around, each with his pipe and basin of beer; the bright blaze lights up the scene, and makes it one fit for a painter.