office window. I noticed the sergeant was particularly anxious to get him out of the room, evidently not considering him a desirable acquisition to facilitate recruiting. I explained to the man what he should do. The sergeant, when he saw me make out my enlistment papers, remarked, "They won't keep you long in the ranks, because they can get better work for you to do," or words to that effect. I did not then comprehend what he meant, but my subsequent experience explained it. I was then sent to the examining physician, examined, passed, and sworn in for three years' service.

That night I went to my home, at Dobb's Ferry, on the Hudson River, and reported what I had done, intending to leave for Washington the next morning, when I was promised transportation. This interview with my parents was quite unpleasant, as my father was very angry and my mother in great distress. At that time both my father and his friends regarded my action as worse than foolish and almost as bad as though I had done something disreputable. Indeed, as I was afterwards informed, one gentleman remarked, "Well, that is too bad; that boy has gone to the devil, too."

The following morning I bade my parents good-bye, feeling that if I were wounded or crippled I should not care to return home for them to take care of me. Subsequent letters from home, however, removed that feeling. The following night, having received transportation, I sailed as the only passenger on a freight transport from a pier near the Battery to South Amboy. I well remember my feelings as I watched New York receding in the distance, there being no excitement or hand-shaking or waving of flags such as accompanied the departure of the first troops that left New York for thirty days' service the year before. From Amboy I went on a coal train to Philadelphia.

On landing at Walnut Street wharf I went into the soldiers' refreshment room, maintained by the citizens of Philadelphia, which was open night and day, and at which all soldiers passing through the city were fed free of charge. It was about two o'clock in the morning, very hot, and I was tired and depressed. Hence, when invited to partake of some refreshments, I was unable to do so but contented myself with eating a few pickles.

I then walked across the city to the Baltimore depot, which was then at the corner of Broad and Pine Streets, and took a passenger train for Baltimore, which I reached about seven o'clock in the morning, sitting up, as there were no sleeping-cars in those days. On arriving in Baltimore I walked to another part of the city to take the train for Washington. Meanwhile I wanted some breakfast. Going into a place which I supposed was a restaurant, I found that the only thing they could offer me was ice-cream. I thereupon ate some, and soon after took the train for Washington. In a few moments the Philadelphia pickles, the hot night, and the Baltimore ice-cream produced most severe cramps, and I was in a very distressed state of mind, fearing that I would never be able to reach the front, but would have to submit to the mortification of being returned home.

Arriving in Washington, I went to Willard's Hotel, and, after a good sleep, was able to take my dinner that evening. I had on citizen's clothes and was not recognized as a private soldier in the United States Army, so the head-waiter assigned me to a seat at a table where General Halleck, the Commander-in-Chief of the Army, sat opposite.

That evening, my uncle, E. V. Price, who was in Washington, met me at the hotel and took me to General Pope's room. The latter had just arrived in Washington to take command of the Army of the Potomac. My uncle procured a pass from him to enable me to go through the lines and join my regiment, the Second New York Cavalry (Harris Light). It was stationed at Falmouth, Virginia. J. Mansfield Davies was the colonel at that time, and Judson Kilpatrick the lieutenant-colonel. My uncle, who knew Colonel Davies, introduced me to him that evening at the hotel. The following morning I accompanied him on the boat to Aquia Creek and reached the regiment on the evening of that day.

In two or three days I received my uniform and a horse was given to me. The fact that I had been seen coming into camp with the Colonel led some of the non-commissioned officers and men of my company to assume that I did not intend to serve in the ranks, but would likely be commissioned shortly and probably be jumped over them, who had already been out some time, though they had not been in any battle, their previous service being confined to drilling and a skirmish or two. This made it very unpleasant for me, and for a short time I was subjected to some little annoyance.

As I wore to the front the best suit of citizen's clothes I had, a man in our company by the name of Rufus West proposed to buy them and agreed to pay me eleven dollars for them. That night he deserted and joined Mosby's command, having made the remark before leaving that he did not "propose to fight to free niggers." He owes me the eleven dollars yet.

In a day or two I was assigned to picket duty with a man of my company, on the Rappahannock River, with instructions to keep a sharp lookout, as they said a female spy was expected to cross at that point. My comrade was Henry E. Johns, who enlisted from Hartford, Connecticut. He appeared to take pity on me, and that evening we discussed our families and our affairs; and at that time a warm attachment was formed, which lasted throughout the war, and since. As we were to remain on guard all night, he suggested that we should take turns, each being on watch, two hours on, and two hours off. Before morning I found it extremely difficult to keep my eyes open, and several times walked to the river and washed my face in order to do so. Just before daylight it was my turn to go to sleep; when I awoke and looked around, I found no one on watch. Looking beside me I found my comrade, also asleep. The place at which we were posted was inaccessible in the night from our lines, because it was at the foot of a deep ravine. I don't imagine any female spy crossed at that point. If we had been caught asleep, however, it would have been an embarrassing position for both of us to have been placed in.

CORPORAL HENRY E. JOHNS

A few days later the Harris Light Cavalry made a raid in the neighborhood of Fredericks Hall, Virginia, in which movement the command marched some ninety miles in thirty hours. This was hard on the men, and many of them were confined to their tents on their return to camp, from saddle boils and lameness, for a day or two. I found it difficult to keep awake on the march and picket, yet I was able to do duty without interruption.

On this raid the regiment destroyed considerable property, and many of the men carried away all sorts of things for which they had no use. Indeed, I heard Colonel Kilpatrick laughingly remark that one fellow, in his zeal to have something, actually had a grindstone on his saddle in front of him. After carrying it about a mile he concluded, however, that he had no further use for it, and dropped it in the road.

CHAPTER II

A few days afterwards the regiment marched through Culpeper and reached the battlefield of Cedar Mountain late on the day on which that engagement was fought. We approached the battlefield through what would be called the rear, where we first saw the horrible sights accompanying a battle, which are always dead