Since last I wrote, I have been on another tour of Pickett duty in the city of Fredericksburg.

This time I had the extreme outpost.

My line of pickets ran immediately along the south bank of the river, the enemies immediately

along the opposite bank.

There we stood, eyeing each other, but nothing more.

No firing at or conversation between the pickets are allowed.

There is often endeavor to betray or provoke some of ours into a conversation, but I believe

seldom succeed.

It is a wise regulation for many reasons that are men are not allowed to talk with them.

They deserve except an official intercourse to be treated with the greatest contempt.

Colonel James D. Nance, third South Carolina infantry, Kershosh Brigade.

The river here was full of rocks and fordable.

The pickets were stationed upon the hills overlooking the river, and in spite of orders to the

contrary, we used to frequently pass our pickets, descend to the water's edge, and signal

to the rebels opposite.

Who, if I recollect rightly, belonged to the fourth Georgia and eighth Alabama regiments?

Upon seeing our signals, they would prepare at once for business by loading themselves

with cloth haversacks of tobacco, and holding them above their heads, plunge into the icy

cold water, and make their way across to our side, sometimes passing from rock to rock,

and sometimes up to their breasts and water.

Two generally came over at a time, and as soon as they arrived, barter would commence,

and in a few minutes the tobacco would be exchanged for overcoats, shoes, blankets,

...