All are dismounted; the freed horses stand with drooping heads and
wet sides; they are to be led off presently in groups, to water. The
little wall-tents and shelter tents spring up quickly. I see the fires
already blazing, and pots and kettles over them. Some among the men
are driving in tent-poles, wielding their axes with strong, slow
blows. I see great huddles of horses, bundles of hay, groups of men
(some with unbuckled sabres yet on their sides,) a few officers, piles
of wood, the flames of the fires, saddles, harness, &c. The smoke
streams upward, additional men arrive and dismount--some drive in
stakes, and tie their horses to them; some go with buckets for water,
some are chopping wood, and so on.

_July 6th_.--A steady rain, dark and thick and warm. A train of
six-mule wagons has just pass'd bearing pontoons, great square-end
flatboats, and the heavy planking for overlaying them. We hear that
the Potomac above here is flooded, and are wondering whether Lee will
be able to get back across again, or whether Meade will indeed break
him to pieces. The cavalry camp on the hill is a ceaseless field of
observation for me. This forenoon there stand the horses, tether'd
together, dripping, steaming, chewing their hay. The men emerge from
their tents, dripping also. The fires are half quench'd.

_July 10th_.--Still the camp opposite--perhaps fifty or sixty tents.
Some of the men are cleaning their sabres (pleasant to-day,) some
brushing boots, some laying off, reading, writing--some cooking, some
sleeping. On long temporary cross-sticks back of the tents are cavalry
accoutrements--blankets and overcoats are hung out to air--there are
the squads of horses tether'd, feeding, continually stamping and
whisking their tails to keep off flies. I sit long in my third
story window and look at the scene--a hundred little things going