everything done with his own eyes, but still the unusual manner in which things were managed—the rushing at a thing for half a day, then leaving that unfinished, and going at something else; the subordinates at a loss for orders, and almost every one doing what seemed right in his own eyes—was the subject of frequent comment, especially among the “thinking bayonets” of the rank and file. But in justice it must be said that their opportunities of judging were very limited.

At about ten o’clock on the morning of the 30th of June, an order came from the General commanding, for the Twenty-second and Thirty-seventh New York to prepare for a two-hours’ march, nothing to be carried but canteens. A hasty roll of the drum, a few hurried orders from the company officers, the line was formed, and in less than fifteen minutes the regiments were off, leaving everything behind them. They have not got back from that two hours’ march yet!

After marching and counter-marching all over the country for some fourteen miles, the brigade, in the afternoon, encountered the enemy near Sporting Hill or Hampden, and quite a smart engagement ensued, the Twenty-second, supported by some Pennsylvania cavalry (who skedaddled at the first shell), advancing through woods and wheat-fields on the left—Co. A (Capt. Otis), being detached as a reconnoitring party to cover that flank in the advance—while the Thirty-seventh advanced on the right, as skirmishers, the Philadelphia battery having the centre. At first, a portion of the rebels, posted in one of the immense barns for which Pennsylvania is so celebrated, was enabled to annoy the brigade considerably, wounding a lieutenant and several others of the Thirty-seventh; but they were finally compelled to evacuate, and in a very short time their artillery was silenced, and they were in full retreat along the whole length of the line. This success must be ascribed in a great measure to the gallant conduct of the Philadelphia battery, which, as far as we were able to see, was unquestionably the most efficient of the organizations, that the invasion of her soil had elicited from Pennsylvania patriotism; and in the eyes of our boys, the Philadelphians therefore stood very high.

In this affair the rebels lost some fifteen killed, and twenty or thirty wounded (this being the account given by themselves to the farmers in the vicinity). The Union loss was very slight, though, as usual, there were all sorts of semi-miraculous escapes. After a short pursuit, the approach of darkness admonished us of the necessity of caution; a halt was therefore ordered, and in a short time orders came to go back to camp. Full of life and spirits, although considerably exhausted by the fatigues of the day, the brigade took up their line of march for Bridgeport. A wagon filled with provisions, belonging to the Twenty-second, had been sent out from the latter place to meet the column as soon as it was known that there had been a “scrimmage,” and hearing of the return of the troops, those in charge had halted when some six miles out, and were busily engaged in preparing supper. Orders, however, were sent forward to repack and hurry everything back, so that the men would have supper ready on their arrival in camp.

Supper! how the word put fresh vigor into weary limbs, and kept up the flagging spirits. No one can know, till he has tried, what a difference it makes in the marching powers whether, after a prolonged fast, you are proceeding toward your supper or away from it.

While we were marching merrily along, suddenly the order came to halt! Rest. And then it was discovered that, for some unknown reason, the powers that be had decreed that the brigade should spend the night where they were; and there, drenched with perspiration, without rubber blankets, haversacks—anything, in the wet grass by the side of the road, in the midst of a drizzling rain, they lay down to sleep, about as uncomfortable as men could well be.

When the wagon came up, a little coffee and hard tack were dealt out, but as this event did not take place till about two o’clock in the morning, the number of those who could keep awake to wait for it was very limited. At daylight in the morning, three crackers per man and no coffee composed a light and frugal repast, on which we started on our first long march.

At about four A. M., the regiments were massed in column to hear a speech from their Brigadier; but it was lamentably evident that, however skilled in the art of war he might be, the mantle of eloquence had never fallen on his shoulders. He stated to the men that he had endured as much as they had, slept and eaten as little; that he (on horseback) didn’t feel tired, and therefore they (on foot) shouldn’t; that he (on horseback) could go to Carlisle, and therefore they could.

Now as no one had objected, or in fact knew, that we were going to Carlisle at all, this assumption that we were trying to shirk our duty, at a time when all were flattering themselves for making extraordinary sacrifices, did not add many to the rapidly diminishing circle of the General’s admirers.

At the time of starting, and for some time afterwards, it was supposed that Carlisle was in possession of the rebels, and that we would have to fight our way through. Skirmishers were therefore thrown out, and the column, composed of one (I) company of the Twenty-second as an advanced guard, another (B) company deployed as skirmishers, then the Thirty-seventh and Twenty-second (Col. Roome being senior to Col. Aspinwall) moved cautiously forward; but after going some five or six miles the skirmishers were drawn in, information having been received from paroled prisoners and farmers that the enemy had left the town (though their pickets were still in the immediate vicinity), and we proceeded without any precautions whatever.

The day was beautiful, though rapidly becoming too warm for comfort, and the route lay through a most lovely country. Scarcely anywhere can the eye rest on finer scenery, more beautiful fields, more comfortable houses, or more magnificent barns (for magnificent is the only adjective applicable to those structures) than those of southern Pennsylvania. But alas! the houses were deserted, the farms pillaged—everything of value, everything that could walk, or be eaten, or—stolen, was gone—swept away by the invader, and the peaceful population driven from their homes by the ruthless hand of war.

A few hours’ marching brought us past the scene of yesterday’s “scrimmage,” and enlivened by the prospect of another fight, as the fatigue and stiffness of the previous night wore off, the echoes of song and laughter floated down the column, taken up and re-echoed from company to company till they died away in the distance, “and all went merry as a marriage bell”—for a time.

The roads were good, the air pure, the halts frequent—there was nothing to find fault with. The people, hitherto the only objectionable feature of the country, were as kind and hospitable as we could desire; and in Hogestown, a little village on the “pike,” and all along the road, wherever there were occupied houses, the women (and very pretty women some of them were, too) turned out en masse, with trays of bread and apple butter, and buckets of cool spring water, to help along the tired troops. A happy contrast with the customs of the capital we had left behind us.

A regiment of Reserves, who had started fresh and well-fed from Harrisburg that morning, and had gained on us while we were retarded by the slow progress of the skirmishers through the tall grain and tangled wheat, hurried up when the rumor began to spread that Carlisle was evacuated, and in a