their usual good fortune, got off with one or two slightly bruised. The rebel loss is almost unknown, but is supposed to have been severe.

As soon as it was definitely known that the rebels had retreated, the brigade, dispensing with the little formality of breakfast, marched to the top of a hill, about a mile south of the town; and after forming line of battle in an oat-field, the men, exhausted by the twenty-five miles’ march of the preceding day and the fatigue of the night, with one accord, lay down in the blazing sun and slept till late in the afternoon.

About four o’clock some breakfast (or rather supper), in the shape of a little pork and potatoes, was found; but just as we were getting ready to eat, the dulcet notes of the “assembly” burst upon our unwilling ears, and we had to “fall in,” dinner or no dinner. Of course we obeyed; but not relishing the idea of marching away from the only meal that had been seen for twenty-four hours (a thing which we had been compelled to do more than once before), a grand dash was made at the pans; and the regiment fell in and marched off, every man with a piece of pork in one hand and a potato in the other, eating away for dear life, and forming a tout ensemble not often equalled.

With the exception of a little picket duty, that night and the next day were spent in camp opposite the ruined barracks, and were devoted by all hands to the most energetic resting. To some, the day was blessed by the receipt of their overcoats and rubber blankets. Happy few! But their joy only made more melancholy the condition of the great majority whose portables still remained behind, safely stowed in Harrisburg; so safely, that as far as the owners were concerned, they might as well have been in New York; so safely, in fact, that the owners of one half of them never found them again. In truth, from the commencement of our “two hours” march until we arrived in New York (just three weeks), neither officers nor privates were ever enabled to change even their under clothing, but soaked by day and steamed by night in the suit they wore the day they started; a suit which, consequently, in no very long time assumed an indescribable color and condition. Many managed, by hook or by crook, during our subsequent marches, to beg, borrow, or “win,” some rubber blankets; but at least one in six were without that indispensable article, whose absence renders camp life “a lengthened misery long drawn out,” and more than one in four were without overcoats; while plates there were none; spoons were very scarce; and the use of such things as forks, combs, and even soap, was utterly forgotten, nor could they be procured. Soap, for instance, we would think could be obtained anywhere; but unfortunately the rebels entertained a notion that if they only washed they would be clean; an idea which any one, who ever saw them, will admit to be too preposterous to require contradiction. But preposterous or not, they acted up to it, and immediately on entering a place proceeded to appropriate every square inch of soap that could be found therein; so that when we came along a few days afterward, nothing saponaceous could be obtained for love or money, and in consequence, the absence of that essential frequently compelled us to imitate the habits of our “Southern brethren” much closer than was agreeable.

Our stay in Carlisle was pleasant—very pleasant—for in addition to the hospitable treatment we received as individuals, our regiment was honored by the presentation of a flag from the ladies of the city. But we could not stay there always; and at reveillé, on the glorious Fourth of July, without seeing as much as a single fire-cracker, or hearing an allusion to the American eagle, or the flag of our Union, we turned our backs on civilization and marched for the mountains, taking a bee-line for Gettysburg, where, although unknown to us, the greatest battle of the war was raging. General Smith having previously detailed the Twenty-second to remain as a guard for the city, we came very near being ingloriously left behind; but, at the urgent request of Colonel Aspinwall, and to our own infinite gratification, we were permitted to accompany the column to the front.

We now formed a portion of a division commanded by Gen. W. F. Smith, composed of that portion of the New York militia formerly stationed in the vicinity of Harrisburg, and who had joined us at Carlisle, consisting, I believe, of the Eighth, Eleventh, and Seventy-first regiments of New York, the Tenth, Thirteenth, Twenty-third, Twenty-eighth, Forty-seventh, Fifty-second, and Fifty-sixth of Brooklyn, the Seventy-fourth and Seventy-fifth of Buffalo, and one or two others from the interior of the state, besides two Philadelphia batteries, a few Pennsylvania troops, and the regular cavalry from the Carlisle barracks; and from this time until our return our adventures became identical with those of the whole division.

The day was clear and beautiful, the roads good, and, as we reached the mountains, the scenery became magnificent. General Smith himself directed our progress, and everything seemed propitious. By noon we had accomplished twelve miles almost without fatigue, and took our noonday rest (for under an officer who understood himself, this essential was not tabooed) in the shade of the woods which fringed one of the mountain passes, eagerly seeking information about the battle, which we now learned was in progress, and this time our information was from authentic sources. About three thousand paroled prisoners (principally of the first corps of the Army of the Potomac, captured in the first day’s fight at Gettysburg, and released on the Carlisle road, because the rebels had too much on hand to look after prisoners), passed us during the day, in a steady stream; and from them we learned that we were but one day’s march from the battlefield, and would probably be able to turn the scale of victory if we arrived in time.

So eagerly were we engaged in discussing the chances of the battle, and seeking to reconcile the different accounts we received, that no one noticed a change in the weather, until the rapid drift of black clouds overhead, and the dull sighing of the trees, warned us that rain was close at hand; in the midst of hurried preparations it came—not a rain, but a deluge. Hour after hour, in steady perpendicular sheets, the rain descended. In vain were all the ingenious contrivances of leaves and boughs; in five minutes overcoats were soaked; in ten, shelter tents sheltered nothing but small lakes; in fifteen, even rubber blankets were useless; and in less than half an hour all were united in the common misery of a thorough ducking. In an incredibly short time, the whole scene was changed: what was formerly the road had been converted, by a stream from the hills, into a torrent mid-leg deep, through which the released prisoners trudged with all the coolness of veterans; the woods, banks—everything, was flooded with lakes and waterfalls; and in front, bridges rendered insecure, and fords impassable, showed what old Aquarias could do when he set fairly to work.

One or two brigades in the advance, suspecting what was coming, pushed on and crossed the ford over Yellow Breeches creek before the worst had come; but by the time our brigade was ready to follow their example, the creek was no longer fordable, and we were obliged to wait some time before it was safe to attempt to get over; and even though the men eventually crossed, the baggage, on account of either the ford or the bridges, stayed behind; thereby acquiring a habit of doing so, which subsequently interfered very seriously with our comfort.

After long waiting, the waters subsided sufficiently to allow us to proceed, and the regiment started, drenched to the