the rebels, who were scattered in small parties through this entire region of country. We had expected to meet with opposition at the ford, on the Little Kanawha, some twenty miles from Glenville, but with the exception of a small band of guerillas, who were very careful to keep the river between ourselves and them, we saw no rebels.

It was not until the evening of the 25th that we broke camp, and then to cross a range of hills only, into the valley of the Elk, where we remained until the 27th of July.

At this camp we learned of a rebel force at Flat Woods, distant six miles, in the direction of Sutton. On the 27th we moved out, in a heavy rain, to attack their camp, but at our approach they fled in dismay.

We remained at Flat Woods till the following Sunday, when we moved on to Sutton, a distance of ten miles.

Sutton, the county-seat of Braxton County, is situated at the base of a high range of hills, on the right bank of the Elk River. The river is crossed by a suspension bridge. Back of the village, and about two hundred feet above it, is a fine table land, with a range of hills for a back ground. This table land was to be approached only by a narrow defile fronting the river, which was easily defended; for a battery properly planted would command every approach for a mile around; besides, the enemy would have to cross the Elk River under fire. Nature had made the position a strong one.

The command, now swelled to about two thousand, encamped on this table land, with the two companies of the First Virginia, and Mack's Battery thrown forward across the river, to keep open the road in front.

The command at once proceeded to erect fortifications, Captain Asper being sent to the front of Captain Mack's position on the Summerville pike, with instructions to select a proper position, after which to erect a fortification commanding the road. Finding a point where the road makes a sharp angle, the captain constructed the work, which, although of no account during the stay of the regiment at Sutton, afterwards proved a good point of defence, when the wreak garrison stationed there was attacked.

The second day of August, the regiment left Sutton, and crossing the river again advanced towards Gauley Bridge. The day was one of the hottest, which, added to the hilly nature of the country, made the advance difficult. Both officers and men fell out of the line, unable to proceed, being so oppressed by the heat, and wearied by the difficult state of the roads. At night we had crossed but one range of hills, and found ourselves in the valley of the Little Birch River, at the foot of Birch Mountain. The following morning we again took up the line of march, reaching the Great Birch River at early twilight, having made but a few miles during the day.

In the afternoon we were joined by our chaplain, who, when we were at Glenville, volunteered to make his way across the country with a message to General Cox. And now, after an absence of more than two weeks, on a perilous message, he was again with us, as fresh and light-hearted as when he left for his daring enterprise. He joined us by the way of Gauley Bridge, having been the first to make the trip. Alone, through a country infested by murderous bands of guerrillas and outlaws, he traveled more than a hundred and fifty miles. Before such deeds of individual heroism, all but the grandeur and magnitude of large battles fade into obscurity. In such single exploits there is a stern, silent daring, that obscures the maddened bravery of a battle-field.

From our chaplain we learned that General Wise had left the valley, burning the bridge over the Gauley River, after crossing his command. He had become frightened and fled. And thus the rebel general, who at Charleston had said: "By G—, the stars and stripes shall never wave over this town again;" on the Wednesday following exclaimed: "The enemy are on us, why the h—ll don't you pack my wagon," and, taking counsel of his fears, fled in dismay.

But let us return to the Seventh Regiment, which we left at its camp near the Big Birch River.

On the morning of August 6, we broke camp, and taking a mountain road arrived at Summerville on the following Wednesday, and encamped on Addison Hill.

The country about Summerville is beautiful in the extreme. It is slightly undulating, having more the appearance of an open country, or in some respects a prairie, than of a valley between two very high ridges. It is sufficiently rolling to hide the mountains which separate the Gauley from the Elk River.

At our former camp we were surrounded by very high, precipitous mountains, with large rocks projecting from their summits. After passing over Powell Mountain, we came into the valley of the Gauley, and after marching a short distance, entirely lost sight of these mountains, over whose rocky crests we had, but a short time before, pursued our slow and weary way.

The contrast between this camp and the one at Big Birch was striking. Here we were reminded of Ohio, our native State, the one which had more attractions for us than any other; while at the latter camp we were constantly reminded of some lonely country, described only by the novelist, and inhabited alone by robbers and outlaws. And yet, upon this mountain region, nature was lavish with her charms. The scenery is grand beyond description. Peak after peak rises, one above another, until the tired eye arrows dim in its endeavor to trace the outlines of the distant mountain, and seeks the beautiful valley, wherein to restore its lost vision.

From the top of Powell's Mountain, the beauty of the scenery is lost sight of in its magnificence. This mountain is the highest in Western Virginia, and commands the finest view. The first time I ascended it was on horseback. When near the top we struck into a bridle path, and, urging our horses into a gallop, we were soon at the base of the projecting rocks. Below, a lovely panorama was open to our view. The side of the mountain, as well as the distant valley, seemed covered with a carpet of green, for both were densely wooded, and in the distance the foliage seemed to blend with the earth. We could see far away into the smaller valleys, and from them trace the ravines, in which the small rivulets make their merry descent from the side of the mountain.

At last, tired of gazing at this beautiful spot in nature's varied scenery, we again urged our horses forward, and, after partially winding around the mountain, we were at the very summit of this mass of earth, rocks, and herbage. We now obtained a view of the opposite side of the mountain from which we had ascended, where beauty expands into sublimity. We could plainly trace the course of the Kanawha River, as on its banks the mountains rise higher, and are more abrupt, while beyond they lessen into hills, and the hills waste into a valley. On the side of the distant hills we could see an occasional farm, with its fields of golden grain ready for the harvest. On the very top of this mountain was living a family.

Notwithstanding their great height, these mountains seemed fertile; and the farms are apparently as good as those in the valley. Springs frequently make their way out of the rocks by the roadside. Water is abundant in any part of these mountains, and springs more common than in the valley.

Near the top of Powell's Mountain, in a kind of basin, is a very fine farm. It is well watered, and well timbered, and quite fertile. The owner lives and flourishes in this quiet home, and, I should say, is quite as happy as if in a city. He has become accustomed to the loneliness of his mountain retreat. The wild scenery has become familiar—its very wildness has a charm. He is content with two visits each year to the distant settlement. It is literally true that "home is where the heart is."

Although this country was well supplied with provisions of every kind, we were not allowed to appropriate any of it. The property of rebels was considered sacred. The authorities were confident of putting down the rebellion