under the stars. The boys of Co. G thought hard and rapid that night as they gathered like frogs along the margin of the stream and bathed the pouching blisters which adorned their heels. No matter what they thought of other matters, the men of G were never known to lack in respect for one of those old army blisters; and the more the blisters smarted, the more they were respected.

Co. G were tired and even the snorers of the company were quiet. There was Jerome Forbes a capital snorer; he was soon promoted to a lieutenancy and probably then gave up snoring. And Hub Suits who bunked with Jerome, was an excellent second. But they all slept quietly that night for those fields were reminders of serious conflict. Around them lay a good-sized army, victims of two great battles: lay as fallen soldiers are buried on the battlefield, in shallow trenches or above the ground with a thin cover of earth over them; their fleshless skeletons protruding to mock the so-called glory in war. And only the stars looked down compassionately. Those sleeping forms of the living also were offerings, and of the 157th, every ninth man was to be lain on the nation's altar before the close of the war. Still they slept on, perhaps dreaming of home, of mothers, wives, babes. What a miserable trade is war?

It was on that terrible field the chaplain of the regiment received the acceptance of his resignation. He was a good man,—had served the gospel but little to the men. He declared later, that he was discouraged. He never did any harm, if he did no good. Co. G were very sorry to lose the chaplain, for they felt the dignity of the regiment was well guarded so long as a man of peace was with them. No, no, Co. G had done nothing to discourage the chaplain; possibly he was shocked by those long-rolls on Arlington Hights.—But the bugle sounds the reveille.

"It appears to me people are in the habit of rising early in this part of the country," remarked Doc White, as he gazed upward into the constellated arch.

"Yes," spoke John Miller, "and I must carry that grist to mill to-day."

"You'll carry it on your back, Miller," called out another, in memory of a knapsack.

"Co. G, fall in for roll-call!" sang out the orderly sergeant.

The line of march this day lay toward Thoroughfare Gap. Not far from Hay Market the column halted and were drawn up in double-column on the center.

"Attention-n-n!" yelled Col. Brown. "My men, the enemy are supposed to be near. They have been seen to-day. You may shortly be called into action and I expect every man to do his duty. Remember, the eyes of Cortland and Madison counties are upon you. Attention! By division, right wheel! For-w-a-r-d, March!"

Off into a field and skirting the woods, moved Co. G. Another wheel and to the left, and the advance began. They moved briskly and steadily along, until one of those narrow wash-outs peculiar to Virginia soil, yawned fully four feet in width before them. Over went the divisions like sheep, the major in the lead, for alas, the horse ridden by the colonel—the old cow—refused to take the ditch. Fortunately the eyes of Madison county were not present at the circus which followed. Thump! thump! went the colonel's heels against the ribs of the cow; then he whirled and dashed at the obstacle again. All the time Co. G were on a still hunt for wandering rebels. And when the colonel, by making a wide detour, succeeded in overtaking his men, they were well across the field and had not bagged a single johnny. The company generously shared their disappointment with Colonel Brown, just the same as though he had kept his place with the column. The colonel had been foiled—and that, his first Virginia ditch. In fact that was not a day really rich with glory for Madison and Cortland counties.

As the field manoeuvre was over, the column again took the road—it was doubtful if there was a force of rebels within twenty-five miles.

Toward night Thoroughfare Gap (an opening through the Bull Run mountains) was reached and Co. G bivouaced in the oak woods with an abundance of leaves for bedding. Two nights they slept on the ground without tents—no great hardship in good weather; but the second day at the Gap the shelter or dog-tents arrived; the day following they were pitched, after a fashion.

While at the Gap the entire division of Gen. Schurz appeared to have run wild. Every house, the fields, all property was exposed to the looting soldiers, who were well supplied with government rations but craved chickens, fresh mutton and tender beef, honey, home-made bread, jams, and jellies. The camp of the 157th resembled a market. Cattle and sheep were lowing and bleating in pens, fowls were plenty and dressed carcasses, hams and many other articles and things hung from the trees. Guns were popping and stray bullets flying, for the brave boys had discovered the presence of the saw-back hog, a species common in the South, usually running at large. They had first met him on the road while marching in, when the big saw-back with long snout to the ground claimed the middle of the road, and got it too; going down from the head of the regiment to the rear, the ranks opening graciously to allow him to pass. And he minded little the bayonet jabs pushed at him as he sped as only his family can run. But many a saw-back fell that day, of all ages, from roaster to patriarch.

After some hours of such ill-becoming looting, strict orders were issued and guards thrown out about the camps. A few hours later the doctors were busy with sick men who had gorged on honey and fresh pork.

Thoroughfare Gap witnessed several contests during the war and many times the cavalry, either of yanks or johnnies, saw each other's heels flying through that winding defile with warm spurs. And the place was remembered ever after in the annals of Co. G, as the camp where much property was stolen and also the locality where Dan Brockway left his little leather-covered trunk.

Dan was formerly a peddler of various kinds of flavoring extracts, ink and bluing. For some funny reason he carried a stock of his essences with him into the army; a strange freak indeed. He had lugged that package thus far, patiently bearing the compliments of officers and men as they urged him to keep in place. He was one of the smallest men in the company, but it took one of the largest and the strongest to land him on his back at square-hold. Brock was always good natured and always busy.

The day came for another moving and the captain said in a firm, but pleasant, way,

"Brock, you must get rid of that blinkity-blim box of yours. Do you understand me?"

Brock understood, as when the captain spoke that way he was in earnest. So the box of beautiful extracts, cinnamon, peppermint and the rest, was left at a house near the gap and is there still, perhaps, for Co. G never saw it again.

The 11th Corps had been thrown forward to guard the supplies for McClellan's army then on the march from Harper's Ferry. Large quantities of stores came up and were in waiting for the advancing columns, and as soon as the Army of the Potomac had gone into camp near Warrenton the 11th Corps was moved to New Baltimore.

Orders for marching came Nov. 7th, a chilly, cloudy day. Before the march of twelve or fourteen miles was half concluded, snow began to fall and Co. G pitched their tents at New Baltimore, in a brisk snow storm, and in a cornfield. Corn stalks were plenty and served for tent-flooring. It was a blundering piece of work, ordering men to camp in a muddy cornfield while a few rods distant was a desirable rise of ground, to which they were removed within a few days. The 157th had many experiences among corn stubble, until the boys came to counting upon such a bivouac as sure whenever one was found conveniently at hand. Blame was unjustly attached to Col. Brown for those cornfield camps.