July, the division arrived at Waynesboro’, where we were annexed to the third brigade, second division of the sixth army corps (whose white cross, artistically carved out of cracker, was at once adopted by any quantity of the men), and in the subsequent manœuvres which took place, became a part of the Army of the Potomac. We found Waynesboro’, a pleasant little place, but so cleaned out by the rebels that you could not even buy a tin cup; and although our foraging parties scoured the country both in and outside the pickets with untiring zeal, the results were meagre enough; and during the three days we remained (most of the time expecting an attack), we had almost nothing to eat the first day, and but a bare sufficiency afterward.

During these three days, by dint of sleeping about all the time, the brigade had got pretty well rested, and in the afternoon of the 11th took up their line of march for Maryland, in first-rate spirits.

We experienced some trouble on the way, and marched and countermarched a good deal, losing three hours’ time and our tempers, in consequence of our General having forgotten that, in going through a strange country, he couldn’t get on well without providing himself with a guide; and it was not till after dark that we got across the Antietam at Scotland’s Bridge. Once across, however, a pleasant moonlight march over a first-rate road, soon brought us to the border, and when our officers announced, “That house marks the line, boys!” it was with no small gratification that we shook off the dust from our feet, singing with great empressment the Union version of “Maryland—My Maryland,” together with a number of parodies not very complimentary to the “men we left behind us.”

A few miles from the line, we camped by division. Many, in reading of a camp by division, imagine a most picturesque scene, of long lines of snowy tents being pitched, while trees are felled for firewood, and all sorts of poetic things take place. Nothing of the kind occurs. On arriving at the selected spot (generally a large field), the regiments file in one after another, taking their places in the order in which they marched, and break to the rear so as to form column by companies. The orders are given: “Halt! Stack arms! Go for rails!!” And every man simultaneously drops his traps where he stands, and makes a bee-line for the tall worm fences, which are vanishing in every direction, as if by magic. One of these rails must be contributed to the company fire, and happy is he who in addition to procuring his quota, can secure a couple more for himself! Serenely reposing on their sharp edges, covered by his rubber blanket, he defies at once the rain above and the mud below; or, more ambitious grown, the spoils of four are combined, and a shelter, à la rebel, is speedily constructed, which is roofed with two rubber blankets, and the proprietors lying underneath on the other two, are at once the admiration and envy of their comrades. The company rails being obtained, are split, a fire started, and supper cooked (if there is anything to cook), and the men, after smoking the pipe of peace, lie down, some around the fire, and the rest where they halted in the first instance, and in two minutes are fast asleep; blessing the memory of the discoverer of tobacco, and the man who invented sleep.

At the first streak of daylight all are awake; a hurried breakfast is made, or not (generally not), ablutions are likewise dispensed with; the “assembly” sounds; rubbers and overcoats are hastily rolled and slung by those who are lucky enough to have them; a few hurried orders are passed along the line; the troops fall in and march off; and in half-an-hour the trampled ground, the ashes of numerous fires, and the ruined fences, alone tell that ten thousand men have camped there for the night.

For some time we had been pressing hard upon the heels of Lee’s retreating army, and at every step new signs of the rapidity of his movements were to be seen. He moved in three columns, the cavalry and artillery taking the road, and the infantry the fields on each side, through which their trampling had cut a path as wide as a city street, destroying the crops they encountered, in a way fit to bring tears into a farmer’s eyes; and throughout the whole route, numbers of wounded men were found, left in the houses by the roadside, and deserters without end were encountered, while broken wagons, abandoned ammunition, canteens, &c., &c., were strewed on every side. Yet, notwithstanding these appearances of demoralization, it was evident, from the accounts of the country people, that, though much dispirited by their late defeat, the rebel army was far from being the mere mob that it was believed by some to be.

It is true that the mountains were full of stragglers, and our cavalry were constantly passing us with crowds of prisoners in their charge; yet the main army had a good deal of fight left in it still, and when it turned on its pursuers, as it frequently did, like a stag at bay, it was not to be despised.

From the formation of the ground, in that section of country, the retreating army derived a great advantage over their pursuers, and were constantly enabled to take positions too strong to be attacked with less than the whole Union army, and where a mere show of strength would check our advance; and then before Meade could concentrate his forces, Lee would be off. At Funkstown in particular, with the simplest materials, a steep slope, fronted by the Antietam, had been converted by the rebels into a second Fredericksburgh. This was all that saved them, for General Meade pressed the pursuit fast and furious.

On the morning of Sunday, the 14th of July, we found ourselves at Cavetown, almost used up. We had had no breakfast; and, from a variety of causes, the march had been one of the most wearisome we had yet experienced. The morning was sultry and exhausting beyond expression; the atmosphere heavy, with that peculiar feeling which precedes a thunder-storm—and, in addition, our shoes were so nearly worn out that the sharp stones, which covered and almost paved a most abominable wheat-field, through which we had passed on the route, had disabled many whose feet were just recovering from the blisters of previous marches.

As soon as we had halted, the division formed line of battle, on the rise of a little hill fronting Hagerstown (to act as supports to General Kilpatrick, who had gone forward that morning to attack it), and we then lay down to rest, first sending details in all directions to forage for a meal.

While idling around, bemoaning the condition of our feet, and discussing the chances of capturing Hagerstown, the sultry promise of the morning was amply redeemed by one of the most tremendous thunder-storms ever seen; the rain fell in torrents (but this was a matter of course, and excited no remark), and the thunder pealed and the lightning flashed all around us—too near to some. Five men of the Fifty-sixth Brooklyn were struck, one of whom died instantly, and the others were badly hurt. A gun belonging to the Thirty-seventh was shattered to pieces by the electric fluid; and several men in the different regiments were reminded by slight shocks that the farther they kept from the stacks of arms the better.

During the afternoon our ears and eyes were gladdened, the one by intelligence that Hagerstown had been taken after a sharp fight, the other by the sight of our dinner (or breakfast) coming up the road, in the shape of an astonished ox, who, when he threw up his head in response to the cheers which greeted his entré, was shot, skinned, and boiling, before he fairly knew what he was