worms, for the bread was very wormy; but we must eat it, or have none. After getting our rations, we marched two miles, to Liberty; here we went into camp, and the next morning formed our line of picket-guard, but not knowing how long we should remain here, did not build our winter-quarters for a few days.

Finally, we concluded to run the risk, and put up cabins. We then commenced, and in two days had what we called a good home. The cabins were constructed of pine-logs, piled together like a log-house, and for the roofs we used our shelter-tents; thus forming our winter homes, which were very comfortable. We had a fireplace and chimney, made of small sticks and mud. In Virginia, the mud makes good mortar, being mostly red clay. The guard-duty was every third day; we had to stand two hours, and off four, rain or shine. Thus you may judge what it is to be broken of your rest every third night, and perhaps be drenched with rain; then to stand all night on guard, with your clothes frozen stiff. This was the condition that we were in on picket-duty; but we have often since looked back to those days, and thought what easy times we had. They were easy to what we had after General Grant took command of the armies of the United States. For our fires, we had to carry our wood about half a mile, while the teams were lying idle. The officers had a good time at this place, as they seldom went on duty; but the private soldiers had the work to do.

An incident occurred here, that may be worth relating. The major of our regiment thought he would go out and see a young lady by the name of Whitehouse. So, one day, he and his orderly started, and passed our picket-guard (as he had command of the lines, we could not stop him), to see his sweetheart (a lady he had got acquainted with some time before, I know not how). But he went, as many young men do; and, as he rode up to her gate, found, to his surprise, her brother there with a strong guard. They came out with drawn pistols, and he, with his orderly, were taken prisoners and sent to Richmond. We started in search of them, but with no success. The second day, we heard from them by way of the lady, for she came and told the colonel that they were captured. He went to Libby Prison, and there remained about four months; when he and others made their escape. Some being retaken, were treated worse than before; but the major returned home. Prison-life was his punishment for disobedience of orders. He remained at home a short time, and then returned to his regiment, which was lying near the James River.

But to return to the scenes of camp-life. The weather was cold, and the snow often fell to the depth of one foot, but did not last but one or two days, making the ground very splashy. We had to be out, let the storm be ever so hard. When in camp, we had nothing but our log-huts with cloth roofs to keep us warm. Our camp was laid out in streets, one company forming one street.

In a short time, there was a call for soldiers whose time was nearly expired, to re-enlist, and get a heavy bounty and thirty days' furlough. The men thought more of the furlough than they did of the money. The Thirty-second most all re-enlisted, and came home as a regiment, bringing their arms with them, which but few regiments had the privilege of doing. But we could not all come home. There were one hundred and fifty of us that had to remain behind. The service was harder than before, as we had to do fatigue-duty; besides, we built a fort at Warrenton Junction. But time wore slowly away until the regiment came back. We were all glad to see them.

One of my comrades was taken sick a few days after returning, and I took care of him, besides doing my duty on the picket-line, which made my work very hard,—harder than my constitution would endure. After he had got better, I was taken sick with a fever while on the line; I had hard work to get to my cabin. When I arrived there, I could not sit up. The doctor was called, and he did what he could for me, but to no use, I had to go through with the fever. Our beds were constructed by driving a crotched stick down at each corner, and then placing a pole from one to the other. After this, we laid small straight sticks across them, then spreading our rubber blankets over the whole, we thus formed our beds; we used our knapsacks for pillows. How long those days seemed, my flesh burning with fever, and the bed being so hard! But I had as good care as could be expected, in such a place as that. There I remained four weeks, before I was able to sit up; those were the longest weeks I ever saw. I little thought, as I lay there, that I should ever return home to my family, for I was married two years previous. But God saw fit to spare my life, perhaps to aid in conquering the foe.

It was not long after I got well before I started on the campaign of 1864, under the generalship of U. S. Grant. He was appointed to that position March 9, and on the twelfth of that month, he took command of the whole United-States' armies. Then we knew that we were to do some fighting. But that was what we went for; and we thought the quicker we commenced, the sooner we should be through and return home (what there was left of us).

Spring came, and the season was beautiful. Cherry and pear trees were in blossom, then apple-trees took their turn. We longed to remain there, but as the ground became settled, we heard of the forces beginning to concentrate around Brandy Station and Culpepper. As we were left at our old place, we began to entertain hopes that we should remain. But we were not kept in suspense long; for, on the morning of April 30, 1864, the bugle sounded for us to pack our knapsacks and be ready for the march. About noon, we bade farewell to the spot where had been our homes for the past few months, and moved on, bidding good-by to some of our southern friends we were to leave behind. Some of them were very friendly and kind to us. When I had nothing else to do, I used to make axe-handles, and helped one of our neighbors mend his wagon. I also repaired clocks, and for my pay would get milk and tobacco. So I had the privilege of sending my money all home to my family, thinking, that if I lived to return, it would be of use to me. But I was destined to disappointment, for the money was all gone before I returned home.

On the thirtieth of April, 1864, we marched to Rappahannock Station, and there camped for the night. In the morning, we again set out; but had only a short march before we arrived at Brandy Station, where we again halted and remained two nights, the first and second days of May. While I was there, I called on my cousin, who was a member of the Thirty-seventh Regiment. While I was gone, the bugle sounded the advance, and I was obliged to run to overtake them, but did not until they halted again. At eleven o'clock, the orders for advance were given, and the whole of the great Army of the Potomac was again in motion. We knew not where we were going, but at the dawn of day we were at the Germania Ford. After crossing, we halted to rest. We improved the time in making coffee and getting our breakfast; then we were ordered forward again. We took the plank-road leading to Fredericksburg, and marched to the pike-road running by the Wilderness Tavern; turning, and marching on that about half a mile, we halted, placed our guard, and remained until morning. When we crossed the Rapidan River, we turned and cast a wistful glance back, for we thought it was the last time we should ever cross it; and so it proved.

In the morning, the guard was called in to resume their march. We did not know that the enemy were near, when a squad of cavalry came