May 6, 1863,
A Rappahanock correspondent of a late Southern paper writes from camp:
There are but few tents, but the army is beginning to regard tents as a nuisance. Much soldiering has made them very sharp, and given them a full knowledge of the law of self-preservation, and they seem to have the same instincts as the beaver, for their operations seem to resemble the habits of that animal. Brigades move about near thick woods to get supplies of fuel, and for benefit to health. When the troops stop to camp, you see them scatter about and become very busy, and in course of an hour or two the whole brigade has disappeared.
You can hear voices and noises, and see moving things, and you almost think it a vision of a haunted place; but after some painful suspense you are enabled to understand this sudden and strange “transmogrification.” The drum beat summons the men to duty or inspection, and all at once, from holes, caves and cellars, over which is a roof of close brush, covered with a thick coating of dirt, to turn rain and weather, while the tenant below is warmed by a snug and well filled fireplace cut in the solid earth on the side; and such are the winter quarters of Lee’s army.