work throwing up a line of rifle pits, to cover the road up which the enemy were now rapidly advancing, report said, only four miles off; but as companies C (Capt. Post), and G (Capt. Howland), had been previously sent some five miles down the same road as pickets, and had not yet been driven in, we took these figures with a slight discount. There was no question, however, but that they were near enough, and we dug away for dear life, from eleven A. M. to two P. M. (and the Sixty-ninth may be safely defied to produce a bigger hole than we had finished at that time); and in consideration of these unparalleled exertions, those in authority kindly allowed us to rest our wearied limbs—by chopping down a good-sized forest, which interfered with the range of the artillery.

Now, digging rifle pits in a hot sun is so very much like excavating a sewer, that axe-work was fun itself compared with it, so the boys, dropping their spades for axes, went to work with a vim, Col. Aspinwall himself setting the example, while each company did its best to outdo the others; and soon the big hickories, two and three feet in diameter, were crashing in all directions, shaking the very ground with their fall. This, by-the-by, was the “heavy cannonading at Harrisburg,” which was telegraphed on to the New York papers, where it greeted our wondering eyes in print the next afternoon.

Of course the people of the vicinity lent their experienced arms to assist in obstructing the march of the enemy; the deputation of patriots present, up to seven o’clock P. M., numbering precisely four (and two of these were blacks, but none the worse choppers for that). After that hour, through the earnest solicitations of a guard despatched by Colonel Aspinwall, whose fixed bayonets presented an unanswerable argument, the surrounding male population volunteered (?) their aid and axes towards the completion of the work, while the tired troops sought their tents to sleep.

No alarm broke the stillness of the night, and the regiment assembled the next (Sunday) morning in front of the Colonel’s tent for religious services, feeling rather more disposed to be pious than usual, for none knew what might occur before another day was passed.

Those services never took place. The men were assembled, the prayer-books distributed, the Chaplain had risen and was on the point of announcing his text, when the Colonel dashed up at full gallop, with the order—“Go back to your company ‘streets,’ and strike tents at once!”

The men rushed back to their quarters, and preparations for breaking camp went on in the greatest possible haste, in the midst of which the Chaplain disappeared for parts unknown, and we never laid eyes on him from that day to this.

Company D (Capt. Thornell) was here ordered down to relieve the companies on picket, and in obedience to subsequent orders threw up a line of rifle-pits across the road, to defend the position to which they had been ordered; where they remained, lying on their arms, until they were called in on the morning of the 30th.

In a few minutes the camp was struck, and we were marching off, little thinking, as we took our leave of the pleasant spot where our nice new tents were being loaded in wagons pressed for the occasion, of the length of time that would elapse before our heads would get under their (or any other) shelter again—perhaps, if we had, the leave-taking would have been more affecting.

While one half of the remaining portion of the regiment was ordered to hold the rifle-pits, the remainder marched to Bridgeport Station opposite Harrisburg, and proceeded to barricade several houses commanding the approaches to the beautiful railroad bridge erected at this point, with as much industry as though they had not done a thing for a week. Companies A (then commanded by Lieut. Franklin, Capt. Otis being temporarily absent) and I (Capt. Gardiner), with beams, barrels of earth, bundles of lath, railroad sleepers and sand-bags, by ten o’clock P. M., had converted the engine-house in which they were stationed into a loopholed and casemated battery to protect two pieces of the Eighth N. Y. troop, placed there to rake the railroad. In the more laborious parts of this work, lifting railroad sleepers and carrying sand-bags, they were assisted by a detachment of negroes from the large body at work on the fortifications, and it was really touching to see the patient, uncomplaining way in which these poor men worked. All the preceding night and day with scanty covering they had toiled, digging, carrying heavy beams and sand-bags, and though almost wearied out, without the slightest compulsion, without the use of a single harsh word from their overseer, they still continued. The white volunteers from Harrisburg had long since abandoned the toilsome work; the weary soldiers stopped at nine o’clock; but the negroes kept on.

At twelve o’clock P. M., the Twenty-second and Thirty-seventh, were cautiously awakened and marched stealthily out to cut off the enemy’s advanced guard, reported to be reconnoitring in our front. It was an imposing sight to see the long column dimly and silently winding down the roads and through the varying shadows of the night. Not a sound was heard—orders were given in a whisper; and as we drew nearer the enemy’s position, the silence was so profound that the heavy breathing of the men was distinctly audible.

After a long march, whispered orders were passed down the line, and amid a death-like silence we halted and formed line of battle, fixing bayonets, and freshly capping our pieces in readiness for instant service. Every eye was strained through the darkness to discern the patrols of the enemy in the wavering shadows of the woods and fields, and every ear was stretched to its utmost tension to catch the expected challenge. But the silence was unbroken, and after a few moments’ halt the column proceeded, feeling their way with the utmost caution, and expecting at every instant to hear the volley which would announce that the advanced pickets had been encountered; but our caution was unnecessary, the enemy had fallen back and there was nothing to be seen.

The movement was splendidly managed, and only wanted one thing to be a magnificent success, that was—an enemy. “As there wasn’t anybody to be captured, we could not capture anybody;” so after marching out some five miles past the pickets, we returned without seeing anything, and at five A. M. lay down by the railroad track to catch a few minutes’ rest. Company B (Capt. Remmey), were not allowed even this rest; but were obliged to return to the picket station, down the New Cumberland road from which they had been recalled to join in the expedition, and which they did not reach until after seven o’clock.

The next day was spent in line of battle, waiting for an attack; but the rebels kindly allowed us to rest during the day, and to “turn in” at our usual hour at night, without molestation, for which we were exceedingly obliged to them.

In the meantime the preparations for the defence of Harrisburg went on with all possible speed; by this time the fortifications erected there were quite extensive, and it is probable that their looks went far toward dampening the ardor of the “Confeds.” But it seemed to us that in the incessant hurry and bustle that were going on around, there was a great want of system; that there was no great mind overseeing everything, and watching that the right man was in the right place. Much of this is certainly unavoidable. A general cannot see