Lying on my cornleaf couch, and looking up at the clear sky, within the glow of our fire, is as pleasant a situation after a long ride as one could desire. I think it delightful, and while thinking so, drop asleep. But there is one more lesson in store for us before daylight. After some hours, I am awoke by a tremendous noise. There are no stars now. The sky is black as ink--the darkness is such that we can see nothing but the half-burnt brands of the fires. The wind howls through the trees like a pack of wolves, and scatters our fires so that the coals fly over our heads, and fall on our blankets and beds. The rain is not come yet, but is coming--we shall be drenched, and then have to sit up in the darkness and shiver till daylight. It is a dismal prospect. Pitter, patter on the leaves. Now we are in for it: the drops thicken; in a minute we shall be as wet as water. But Nature only means to give us a fright. The rain does not increase--the drops stop--the wind howls less loudly. Soon, through a rent in the clouds is seen a star, and then another. The rent grows larger, and every one takes a long breath, and says, "The storm has passed round." We lie down again, and wake up to find it a bright, frosty morning. After an hour's ride, we have found the new camp. It is on a beautiful wooded slope, overlooking the river and the fort, and on either side a clear, little rill trickles through the trees. Our tents are pitched on one, and the horses picketed on the other. None of us have ever seen so beautiful a camp before; and, as we dismount, the bugles blow the breakfast call. V. A FLAG OF TRUCE. Our regiment has left its pleasant camp near Fort Henry, and has crossed the Tennessee and encamped in a small field about three miles above the fort. I happened to be in command when we halted here, and named the camp after our colonel. It is a rainy day in camp--since morning it has been rain, rain, rain. The camp seems deserted; save here and there you see a man, with blanket drawn close over head and shoulders, plod heavily and slowly through the mud. The horses stand with heads down, and drooping ears, stock still--nothing moves but the rain, and that straight down. There is no light umbrella, nor rattling omnibus in camp; nor dry stockings, nor warm fire to find, at home. The tents are tired of shedding rain, and it oozes through; there were no spades to trench them, and it runs under. There is water above, and mud beneath, and wet everywhere. No fun in soldiering now.