The following, written at the entrenched camp near Norfolk, is from a member of the Mobile Gulf City Guards, only seventeen years of age:

Dear Grand Pa If you only knew the monotony of camp life you would not wonder (coming from as feeble a pen as mine) at my letters being so dull and uninteresting.

No news, no excitement at all. Every day the same old thing—drill, drill, drill; and after that the men return to their quarters, and there remain in a kind of trance until some unlucky dog comes along, when he is immediately grabbed by some one, a canteen is tied to his tail, and away he flies amid the yells and cries of a thousand men, making the old woods ring for miles around and then just is suddenly, every thing is as quiet as if nothing had happened.