The heavy boom of the artillery was followed by the squeak, squeak of Admiral Porter's little tug, as he moved around making his arrangements for the morrow.

The sounds were ridiculous by comparison.

General Sherman and staff lay on the roots of an old oak-tree, that kept them partly clear of mud.
The cold was sharp, my right boot being frozen solid in a puddle in the morning.

About half-past two or three o'clock, General Sherman, with another and myself, crept in as close as possible and reconnoitred the position.

The general managed to creep in much closer than the rest of us--in fact, so close as to cause us anxiety.