such), through the City of Boston walked, with heavy hearts and
down-cast eyes, two Quakers.

Here on this dry and pleasant island in the midst of the beautiful
Massachusetts Bay, we have the liberty of the camp, the privilege of air
and sunshine and hay beds to sleep upon. So we went to bed last night
with somewhat of gladness elevating our depressed spirits.

Here are many troops gathering daily from all the New England States
except Connecticut and Rhode Island. Their white tents are dotting the
green slopes and hilltops of the island and spreading wider and wider.
This is the flow of military tide here just now. The ebb went out to sea
in the shape of a great shipload just as we came in, and another load
will be sent before many days. All is war here. We are surrounded by the
pomp and circumstance of war, and enveloped in the cloud thereof. The
cloud settles down over the minds and souls of all; they cannot see
beyond, nor do they try; but with the clearer eye of Christian faith I
try to look beyond all this error unto Truth and Holiness immaculate:
and thanks to our Father, I am favoured with glimpses that are sweet
consolation amid this darkness.

This is one gratification: the men with us give us their sympathy. They
seem to look upon us tenderly and pitifully, and their expressions of
kind wishes are warm. Although we are relieved from duty and from drill,
and may lie in our tents during rain and at night, we have heard of no
complaint. This is the more worthy of note as there are so few in our
little (Vermont) camp. Each man comes on guard half the days. It would
probably be otherwise were their hearts in the service; but I have yet
to find the man in any of these camps or at any service who does not
wish himself at home. Substitutes say if they knew all they know now