Read Ebook: Hope Benham: A Story for Girls by Perry Nora Merrill Frank T Illustrator

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COMPANY K.

WOBURN.

Life at a rendezvous camp is much the same, wherever found. The change from the untrammeled habits of home to the restrained conditions of military life is seldom made without friction on the part of the newly enlisted men, and if there were a lack of quarters, an insufficiency of food, and if the latter were of indifferent quality, they were only features to be expected wherever and whenever inexperienced citizens undertake the transforming act of becoming soldiers. However disagreeable some of the conditions at Camp Stanton may have been, nothing was encountered there that would not have been laughed at, when two years later the men were passing through the exactions of the "Battle Summer" or later still, when they realized the horrors of Salisbury and Andersonville. Nor were the days of Lynnfield altogether disagreeable to the recruits, for were there not the visits of home friends who always came laden with the best of goodies for the "boys," and passes for brief trips to the homes themselves? Besides every day had its round of duties, such as guard, the policing of the camp and the early induction to drill, even before the giving out of uniform and arms.

Col. Edward F. Jones, who had won distinction in the earlier months of the war as commander of the Sixth Regiment, and later had been assigned to the colonelcy of the Twenty-sixth Infantry, was in command of the camp and occasionally the newly made soldiers repined at the rigor of his commands, quite uncalled for to their undisciplined minds. Nothing, however, better exhibited the adaptability of the American soldier than the speed with which the material from school, shop and farm, caught the step, learned the manual and responded to the command of superior officers. In the case of the companies that were to constitute the Thirty-ninth Regiment, they arrived after the most of the desirable quarters had been taken by the men of the Thirty-fifth and the Thirty-eighth Regiments. The first named departed for the front on the 22nd of August; on the 24th, the Thirty-eighth took train for the South and as colonel went Timothy Ingraham who originally had been commissioned as the leader of the Thirty-ninth; a Captain in the Third Infantry during the three months' service, he had been lieutenant colonel in the Eighteenth Infantry and there were feelings of regret when the New Bedford officer was transferred to the earlier numbered organization.

BOXFORD

The limitations of Lynnfield finally became so apparent that the authorities determined to seek a new location and officers were directed to investigate, the result being that Boxford, still further away from Boston was selected. Here were the grounds that had been used as a musterfield by the Second Brigade, Second Division of the State Militia and, on this extended plain by the side of a beautiful pond of water, it was determined to pitch the new camp. Orders were given for the cooking of three days' rations and on the 28th, by special trains the troops were transferred from Lynnfield to Boxford. It is possible that had the nearness of the day of starting for the front been known the trouble of removal had been avoided. Colonel Jones still commanded the camp which continued to be called "Stanton" and the commandant's rules were quite as rigid as ever. On the 29th, some of the soldiers were gladdened by the receipt from the State of twenty-five dollars' bounty and they soon found ways enough for disposing of it, though many of them had signed allotment papers, agreeing to have a portion of their pay reserved for friends at home.

BOXFORD TO WASHINGTON.

Though the crowds were great and friends by the hundred, not to say thousands, were there to say "Good-bye," the greetings and partings were had in passing, as the quickstep was kept through the city. At the station, the regiment was soon entrained for Worcester, as its next step on its southern way. There was no lack of interest in the departure by people all along the route to Worcester, and there the good citizens were not slow in supplying food, somewhat more appetizing than the rations borne in the haversacks; said rations in many cases became useless through the taste imparted by the recently painted receptacles, the traces of turpentine working through. One veteran relates, at this late day, his anguish over the spoiling of a quantity of fresh mother's made doughnuts. Thence, via the Norwich route, the way was southward, the first train reaching Groton, Connecticut, the summer terminus, about 10.30 in the evening. As the soldier-laden train was in two sections, there was a somewhat prolonged wait here for the arrival of the second part. However, sometime between 10.30 and midnight the steamer "City of New York" proceeded on its way to the great city, along the Sound, over which had passed so many New England men and boys on their Union-preserving mission. Though there was ample space on the soft side of the respective decks for the soldiers to lie down, there was altogether too much novelty for them to encamp at once. While the majority secured some sleep during the passage, there were those who watched the night through and were ready to greet the dawn and to experience the sensations of an early approach to the mightiest city of the Western Continent. Those who saw that sunrise and the course through East River and the final round-up at the Jersey City landing never forgot it; besides, the morning sights included a view of the "Great Eastern", the famous British steamship, then the greatest in the world and the wonder of all beholders.

Sunday morning at 8 o'clock, the steamer was docked at Jersey City and soon afterward the regiment was again embarked on a train for the trip through New Jersey and, though it was Sunday and, presumably, many people were at church, there seemed to be no lack of generous citizens, ready to supply the most luscious of fruit and to prove that whatever fun might be had at the expense of the state's being a "foreign country" the hearts of the people were all right. The day itself was in that delightful early fall, when Dame Nature does her best to outdo her June wonders, and the hearts of the Massachusetts travellers were all aglow as they saw the possibilities of the Garden State and when, having been ferried across the Delaware River, Philadelphia was reached, every man was in splendid appetite for the lavish lunch that the ladies of the City of Brotherly Love had prepared for them in the Cooper Refreshment Rooms. Few Eastern soldiers failed at some time in their experience to test the hospitality of William Penn's great city and that veteran is yet to be found who does not wax eloquent over the spread there afforded, and that was his without money and without price.

The march through Philadelphia was an enjoyable one, the people being in such evident sympathy with the men, who at every step were going further from their own homes and loved ones. When the station was reached, whence they were to start for Baltimore, there was a considerable halt during which the Massachusetts boys had a fine chance to make the acquaintances of certain of the fair daughters of the Keystone State and addresses were exchanged which, in subsequent months, afforded pleasure to both man and maiden, as letters passed between those in the field and the loyal dwellers on the banks of the Schuylkill. The ride southward, according to some of the chroniclers, was not as enjoyable as the previous portions had been; indeed one careful writer says, "Here the comfort of our journey ceased for we were put aboard cattle cars, with rough and hard seats"; in most cases, no seats at all; yet the time would come when that writer would be delighted to ride standing, on platform cars even, if thereby he could the sooner gain his destination. Wilmington, Delaware, reached at midnight or thereabouts, was the first stop and, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour there was a modified repetition of the Philadelphia reception, every one being anxious to contribute to the well being of the "boys in blue." Among those in waiting were former dwellers in the Bay State who were delighted to grasp the hands of men just from the old home.

The crossing of the Susquehanna River from Perryville, Delaware, to Havre-de-Grace was a source of great interest to these tyros of travel, and whole trains of cars, run aboard great ferryboats at once, for a trip over the river to the Maryland town opposite, excited not a little wonder, if not admiration. On reaching the further side of the river, the usual waiting was experienced and, though it was in the dead of night, those young soldiers were too full of life to allow the time to waste and in their search for mischief they discovered that the place abounded in geese and, long after midnight, these representatives of staid and sober New England awoke not alone the squawking fowls but the people as well and, over and through the gullied ways of this first bit of "Maryland, My Maryland" that they had encountered, these men, on fierce battle bent, pursued these poor feathered bipeds, though what they were to accomplish by a complete round-up, they had not the least notion. However, from any such test they were happily saved by the appearance on the scene of Colonel Davis who, apprised by the noise of the need of his presence, admonished his valiant followers to cease harrying the birds; nor were the mischievous fellows sorry, for they had gone about as far as they could and not have their fun changed into serious fault.

Ellicott's Mills, not so very far from Baltimore, towards the west, was at first announced as the destination of the regiment, but, as there was no supply of tents or wagons, the order was countermanded and cars were taken for Washington. The sight of the incomplete Capitol and other public buildings was a glad one to these Massachusetts men who, in spite of warlike intentions, were alive to all of the geographical attractions that they might encounter. Reaching the Nation's centre of activity somewhat late in the afternoon there was some time in which to take cursory glances of many edifices, already familiar through picture and print. Supper and lodgings were found in the barracks, close by the Baltimore and Ohio depot, and those who did not like the fare at the barracks, and could afford the price, had the privilege of supping outside. Weariness can sleep upon a flinty bed while lazy sloth may toss upon the softest of couches, hence the floor of the so-called "Soldiers' Rest" afforded comfort for the cattle car travellers. In the morning of the 9th, it was discovered that the Tenth Vermont had arrived during the night and was encamped outside, a regiment with which the Thirty-ninth was eventually to be brigaded for a time.

POTOMAC CROSSED.

The breakfast was not of a sort to elicit any great amount of praise from the soldiers and once more those who could got their food outside, and the forenoon was passed largely in seeing the sights of the Capital. Very likely the folks at home were thinking that their boys were so much needed that they were to be ordered into battle-line at once; but all concerned were to learn that in the fiercest of wars there are many waits, and this delay in Washington was incident to finding out just where the Thirty-ninth was to report, for all knew very well they were not to halt there long. The orders came from Gen. Silas Casey in time for them to move out of the city about noon and so to take their way across the Long Bridge, the thoroughfare connection between Washington and Alexandria, then the most famous structure of its kind in America; on account of the vibrations the regular route-step was broken. The day was hot and sultry, the dust intense, made so by the constant passing of horses and men, and the newly enlisted soldiers, loaded down with their bloated knapsacks and other burdens, began to think that soldiering was no joking matter.

While thus advancing into Virginia the Thirteenth Massachusetts Infantry was encountered, the men having all of the activity and swing that come from long experience, though thinned ranks spoke volumes for the encounters they had passed through, but they were in no halting mood and with only the greetings possible in passing the Bay State men kept in motion. It was the time when the disastrous Second Bull Run had necessitated realignment, and measures were afoot which in a little more than a week were to lead up to Antietam. It was a march of seven miles which brought the dust begrimed men to the vicinity of Fort Albany, an extensive fortification situated on the estate of Gen. Robert E. Lee, the famous Virginian so prominent in the Confederate Army, a locality rapidly growing in reputation as Arlington. Though camp equipage had not as yet made its appearance, the weather was so dry and warm no trouble was found in camping without other outfit. In every direction the eye could see very little save tents and campfires, with the passing of long baggage trains, and the night air bore the strains of many bands of music, all joining in a mighty effort to keep the minds of the soldiers alert and free from the care which besets solitude and repose.

On the slopes of Arlington the morning of the 10th found the regiment, its members all alert to observe and learn the lessons of each successive day. The night had brought about great changes, for a large portion of the camps so apparent during the watches of the night had entirely disappeared; to be sure there had been some extra fires during the preceding hours when, as it appeared later, camp debris had been burned, but all of these indications were lost on the newcomers, to whom the symptoms of breaking camp were unfamiliar, and how should they know that already the fates were preparing for Antietam, the bloodiest single day's fight of the entire war? That the enemy was not very remote was currently reported and many of the young soldiers thought they might be ordered into the fray at an early hour. Then too, for the first time, they saw the coming into the Union line of escaped negroes, the "contrabands" of General Butler's ruling; "strange looking beings," one of the observers remarks. The 11th day differed in no essential from its predecessor save that the arrival of tents permitted the pitching of them and the instituting of regular and strict camp orders. The proximity of great earthworks, known as forts, prompted many to visit them and thus to appreciate the efforts that had been made to render safe the nation's capital. Drills were begun, roll-calls were frequent and the first dress parade in Dixie was recorded for the Thirty-ninth on this day.

After a day of routine on the 12th, while companies were forming for battalion drill, orders came to pack up and be ready to move out. It was after dark and in the midst of a driving rain that the start was made, but through the mud and darkness the regiment proceeded with as much willingness as the circumstances would permit till, at last, after what seemed a very long time and a great distance, really the latter was only two miles, the welcome command, "halt," was heard, and as it was not followed by one to move forward the men were content, the rain having stopped, to throw themselves upon the ground and there to find the rest that ever comes to the weary whatever the conditions. The regiment was now near the outermost lines and pickets were thrown out. The next morning, 13th, revealed the location as near Fort Tillinghast, and work was immediately begun on clearing the ground for a camp, this being the third effort for this purpose made by the men and some of them hoped they might be allowed to remain long enough to see just how a real camp at the front would look. It appeared that to the Thirty-ninth had been assigned the duty of picketing the line between Forts Tillinghast and Craig. Here Sibley tents were received, the same having been left by the Sixteenth Maine on the departure of the latter for the march into Maryland. This was the introduction of the Thirty-ninth to an organization whose later history was considerably involved with that o "This is Aunt Angel's busy hour; I'll finish the story some other time."

The blood mounted to Dolly's forehead. That glance of surprise pricked her sharply. It angered her too. Who was this boy to set his priggish manners above hers? And in hot rebellion, she cried out flippantly,--

"No, no, tell it now, tell it now! Ten minutes longer can't make much difference."

She had been accustomed to persist in this fashion at home; and beyond a "Dolly, how impolite!" or "Be quiet, Dolly!" spoken at the moment by father or mother or Mary, not much further notice was taken of her offence. But neither Miss Marr nor Victor made the slightest suggestion of a reproving comment now. They made no comment whatever. The boy simply stared at her a second, then lowered his eyes, showing clearly that he was embarrassed by the girl's rudeness. Miss Marr looked at her with an expression of wondering astonishment that was in itself a shock and a revelation to Dolly. There was not a particle of personal resentment in this expression; it was the wondering astonishment of a person who is regarding for the first time some strange new species of development. Dolly had hitherto gloried in her impertinence, as something witty and audacious. Now all at once she was made to see that to another person, and that person this "stylish girl in a stunning plain gown," this audacious impertinence looked vulgar. The shock of this revelation was so sudden to Miss Dolly that all self-possession deserted her, and again Miss Marr saw her apparently shy and awkward and speechless. The deep red flush that overspread her face at the same time added to the appearance of shyness, and pleaded for her more than words would have done.

"She'd be a jolly girl, if she didn't break up into such Hottentot ways. I wonder where she came from?" was Victor's inward reflection. His concluding reflection, as he went out of the house, was, "Wonder what Aunt Angel will do with her."

Aunt Angel wondered, too, as she accompanied Dolly up to the room that had been arranged for her; and as she wondered, she could not help thinking, "How glad I am the girl is going to have a room to herself, and not with any one of the other girls!"

The room was small, but it was charmingly furnished,--a little pink and white chamber, with all sorts of pretty contrivances for comfort and convenience. As Dolly looked about her, when Miss Marr closed the door upon her, she thought of what her mother had said, after inspecting the room the day before: "It isn't in the least like a boarding-school,--it is like a visitor's room, Dolly, as you will see."

And Dolly did see, but she was in no mood to enjoy the pretty details just then, for the sense of humiliation was weighing heavily upon her. In vain she tried to blow it away with the breath of anger,--to call Miss Marr "old Madam Prim," and Victor "that prig of a boy." Nothing of this kind availed to relieve her. Never in her life had she been so impressed by anybody as by Miss Marr, and she was also sure that she had also begun to impress Miss Marr, in her turn. And now and now!--and down on the pink and white bed Dolly flung herself in a paroxysm of mingled regret, rage, mortification, and disappointment, and, like the big, overgrown, undisciplined child that she was, sobbed herself to sleep.

The short October afternoon had come nearly to an end when she woke; and she looked about her in dismay. It must be late; and, springing up, she glanced at her watch. It was half-past four. At this moment she heard, in the hall outside, a murmur of girls' voices. One called, "Miss Marr;" and another said, "The Boston train was delayed, or I should have been here earlier."

Then followed a soft tinkle of laughter, a little tap of heels, and an opening and shutting of doors. Dolly, listening, knew what this meant,--knew that these girls were the late arrivals, the returning pupils.

"And they all know each other," she commented rather lonesomely and enviously, "and I shall dress myself and get down before them. I'm not going to enter a room full of strange girls, if I know it!"

Dolly's taste was generally excellent. She knew what to wear and when to wear it; but some mistaken idea of outshining those strange girls at the start took possession of her, and instead of putting on a gown suited to the occasion, she donned a fine affair,--a combination of old-rose cashmere and velvet, with rose ribbons at her throat. As she left the room in this finery, she saw a door farther down the hall open, and a tall slender girl, dressed with the severest simplicity, come forth.

One of those strange girls! And Dolly, as they met, stared at her, with her head in the air. But the strange girl, with a matter of course manner, gave a little courteous inclination of greeting as she passed, whereat Dolly grew rather red. "I wonder if that is the girl who talked about 'my train,'" thought Dolly. "I'll bet it is. She has a look like that girl I saw one day last spring with the Edlicotts at Papanti's dancing-school. I wonder what her name is."

As the girl ran lightly down the stairs, one of the maids came up. Dolly stopped her and asked, "Is that one of the pupils?"

"Yes, miss."

"What is her name?"

"Miss Hope Benham."

Miss Hope Benham! It was five years since Dolly's encounter with Hope in the Brookside station, and four years since she had heard her or the name of Benham referred to. This later reference was made by Mr. Dering one morning at the breakfast-table.

"Well, Dolly," he had suddenly said, glancing up from his newspaper, "that lfound the regiment making coffee around fires that were larger than usual, owing to the moisture that pervaded everything, but wet or dry, there was to be no protracted halt here and the village, later to be quite familiar to the Thirty-ninth, was left behind as the regiment plodded along about three miles further. Turning off into some woods, camp was established, rations drawn and preparations were progressing for staying a while when orders came, directing five companies to go on picket at once. Marching about two miles further, the river was reached by the companies at Edward's Ferry. The latter is thirty-five miles from Washington and the section had been more or less mixed up with the war from the very start. Edward's Ferry was familiar on account of the Battle of Ball's Bluff, just across the Potomac, on the 21st day of October, one year before. Out in the river is Harrison's Island, a bit of land that had been seen in fancy by thousands of Northern people whose loved ones had died there. The road, traversed by the men, was the Leesburg pike, the ferry being one of the features of the way. While the country is attractive, with the historic river flowing through it, the soldiers were not there for historic studies. Posting one company at the Ferry as the extreme left, the men were strung along the river to Conrad's Ferry, five miles further up the stream. So on the banks of Old Potomac began the duties of soldiering in a region that had already echoed to battle's din. Parallel with the Potomac, sluggishly flows the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal and along its banks many of the picket groups were posted. Five miles to be under observation by about five hundred men or, as they were posted in groups of five, there were twenty posts to the mile and, if stationed at equal intervals, each set of sentinels was responsible for sixteen rods, but other circumstances than mere distance determined the placing of men on picket. Probably no more vigilant soldiers than these of the Thirty-ninth ever watched the river and opposite shore, for the novelty of the situation and the knowledge that the rebels were within shooting distance made the responsibility great. Besides, the rumbles from distant Antietam, throughout the 17th, were calculated to waken apprehensions in the minds of men who had no means of knowing what way the fight was going.

PICKET DUTY.

Thence onward till the 23rd of the month this tour of duty continued and however irksome it may have been to many, as a rule, men preferred such service to the routine of roll-call and almost constant drill in camp. Happily for these tyros in military experience, nothing of note disturbed the general quiet of the period, though every man was on the alert for the first indication of hostile approach. The proximity of Maryland farms and well-filled larders suggested foraging and, while some of the men paid for the food which they obtained, others did not, and a considerable raid is recorded which resulted in the bringing into camp of a great variety of material, both animal and vegetable, as well as cereals and fruit. While it was new business for the majority of these well brought up young men, they speedily adapted themselves to their new conditions, and rare was the soldier who could not secure food to eat if anything of the kind were within reaching distance. It is said that bills, aggregating fifty dollars, were presented to the Colonel by suffering farmers from the afflicted locality and they were paid by someone, though the amount was later assessed upon the offending companies. Sickness made its appearance among the men, largely the result of indiscretion in eating, the abundance of all sorts of fruit inducing indulgence therein to the extent of serious stomach and bowel difficulties. Also, the individual cooking done by the men may have had a share in the disorders named, for while some of the combinations of fried pork, apples and molasses may have been very palatable, they certainly were a surprise to many of the stomachs, into which they were introduced. At the same time the lesson of self help had to be learned.

On the 23rd, the companies on picket were relieved by those in camp and there came a chance to receive the knapsacks left at Arlington on the 14th, and the extra clothing thus was appreciated by all to whom the coldness of Southern nights was a revelation. Shelter tents were distributed and every one speedily learned how much comfort could be found beneath them. Here too began in good earnest the school of the soldier, and four drills a day, along with roll-calls at frequent intervals, induced a degree of attention and a weariness that made many a lad seek his rest, when possible, without any prompting. The first death in the regiment came on the 27th, when Nathan Mitchell, a Bridgewater boy, Company F, twenty-one years old, passed out of this life. The funeral was held the next morning, an impressive lesson for the soldiers of the possibility of death in camp as well as on the battlefield.

Since reaching "Old Potomac's Shore" no more memorable day had been recorded than Sunday, October 12th, when the regular inspection was interrupted by the arrival of a courier with orders to march at once since the enemy was crossing the river at one of the upper fords, and skirmishing was already in progress. Much to the wonder of some, in spite of the urgency the inspection was finished and the rations drawn before the Thirty-ninth, in heavy marching array, started off at a double-quick, to make up for lost time. The heat of the day and the heaviness of the attire made the march exceedingly trying, but Conrad's Ferry was reached at last, knapsacks were unslung, line of battle was formed, and the approach of the enemy was awaited; but in vain, for the rapid riders of J. E. B. Stuart had already crossed at White's Ford, two miles further up the stream. Some of the hypercritical soldiers thought that if the inspection had been ended at once and the march made in light order, the Thirty-ninth might have arrived in time to interrupt the placid passage of the Potomac by the venturesome Confederates.

STUART'S RAID.

It is in place to state that the affair was the termination of one of the most picturesque incidents of the entire war. On the 9th of October, Confederate General Stuart with eighteen hundred of the best mounted and most reliable men in the brigades of Wade Hampton, Fitz Hugh Lee and B. H. Robertson started from Darksville, a place some miles above Martinsburg in the valley of the Shenandoah and, moving northward, crossed the Potomac at McCoy's Ford and reached Chambersburg, Penn., in the evening of the 10th. In the Keystone State the troopers had helped themselves to whatever they chose to take, but they had carefully refrained from molesting property on their way through Maryland. In Chambersburg and vicinity, horses and whatever might contribute to the welfare and comfort of the invaders were appropriated. The night in the Pennsylvania city was spent in drizzling rain which added not a little to the peril of the situation, for Federal authorities were astir, hoping to surround and capture the entire rebel outfit. The morning of the 11th, the horsemen turned their steps eastward, proceeding towards Gettysburg as far as Cashtown; thence the route was directly southward, through Emmitsburg, New Market, Hyattstown, etc., with only momentary halts, to the Potomac. There was no bivouac for the night, since any hour might confront the riders with a Union force to effectually block their way. Stuart had the good fortune to be guided by Capt. B. S. White, a Poolesville man and a member of his staff who knew the entire country thoroughly, so that, while the Federal forces were looking for the enemy further down the stream or at points higher up, White piloted them to the ford and saw them in safety on the other side.

It was one of the great events of military history; General Stoneman with infantry and cavalry was stationed at Poolesville, and Pleasanton was in readiness at the mouth of the Monocacy, places which the astute Confederates carefully avoided. The net results of the expedition were the destruction of public and railroad property in Chambersburg to the amount of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars; two hundred and eighty wounded and sick prisoners, paroled; thirty United States government officials and other citizens of prominence, captured and forwarded to Richmond, to be held as hostages for Confederate citizens held by the North, and more than twelve hundred horses brought away to replenish the mounts for the daring rebels. Within twenty-seven hours, the Confederates had ridden ninety miles, encumbered with artillery and captured horses, and had forced the final passage of the Potomac virtually under the very eyes of the Union forces, their only loss being two men who wandered away, and the only casualty was the wounding of one man. Not a few observers in the Union ranks wondered why things were thus, and Hooker's pertinent question, "Who ever saw a dead cavalryman?" is remembered.

An interesting postscript to the escape of Stuart and his men came about soon after when Poole and Leslie of Company K, in spite of the strict orders as to watchfulness and care, laid off their clothes, when on picket, and swam over to Harrison's Island where they found no other rebel than an old mule, feeding in solitary, but on their way back they found in the river a pair of saddle-bags that had belonged to the Chaplain of Hampton's Legion, one of Stuart's force, and evidently lost in the crossing. The contents consisted in pious tracts, a vest with Confederate buttons, needles and thread, and a hospital flag, a yellow cotton affair, which years afterward would be one of the finder's choicest relics. Leslie was always very sorry that those tracts were not distributed among the Johnnies, for he thought they needed them badly.

The same rain that had made the rebel raid all the more difficult rendered the return of our men to camp very uncomfortable, but they had learned something of what might be expected of them. Besides, during the evening they acquired a bit of military knowledge from certain troops under Gen. D. B. Birney of the Corps, lately commanded by Gen. Phil Kearney. They too had come in a hurry from Hall's Hill and found themselves too late for the game.

It had been a hard day and the men were tired and hungry; flocking over to the camp of the Thirty-ninth, they were cordially received and the Massachusetts men generously gave what they could to the comfort of the weary soldiers, receiving in payment many thanks and some pretty large stories of the fights in which the older soldiers had been. One of the latter's first acts was to build great fires, using therefor the fence rails, hitherto untouched by the Bay State lads, this being in conformity with orders, but the experienced campaigners cared not a copper for rules, but speedily laid hold on the combustible matter and lighted roaring fires that astonished the lately arrived. Such desecration was not to be tamely endured by those who strictly interpreted the law, so the colonel of the Thirty-ninth undertook to stay the hands of the wet and muddy soldiers and thus to save the fences, but the veterans of the Peninsula, Groveton and Antietam were not to be diverted by mere language, and the conflagration continued till long lengths of zigzag fence had disappeared.

MOVING AGAIN

During these days, while there were drills, inspections and other camp duties, the enlisted man had time, or he took it, to visit neighboring farms, to quiz the natives, to sample the products of the land and in many ways to prove his derivation from Yankeedom. The men found the negroes glad to see them and ready to hurrah for the flag, while suspicion was generally harbored that professions of loyalty on the part of slave-owners were not particularly sincere. Target shoots were indulged in, a practice of which there should have been more throughout the army; Sunday, the 19th, was remarked as quite uneventful, since there were only inspections and dress parade, and no alarm of any sort. October 20th orders came to pack up, and a removal to the mouth of Muddy Branch was made, possibly three miles nearer Washington, where the old routine was continued. As the name of the stream would indicate, the locality was still very unhealthy, being low and damp, but the duties were less arduous when on picket, through there being less posts and less hours of duty. Illicit traffic with the enemy had to be strictly watched and prevented.

On the 21st, a long stretch of embankment on the canal breaking away, a detachment of five men from each company was made to proceed to the scene, some three miles down the stream, and to repair the same, an employment hardly contemplated when they enlisted. However, they succeeded in stopping the crevasse and permitting the renewal of transportation. Though comparatively near the base of supplies, provisions at times were scarce and hardtack and water seemed scant rations for men accustomed to more generous fare. If, under such circumstances, soldiers foraged occasionally, sometimes paying for what they got, more often not, why, it was only a part of the game that the North and the South were playing; and to prove themselves rapidly progressing, October 24th, ostensibly in retaliation for excessive charges, a raid was made on the regimental sutler, mulcting his assets to the amount, so said, of about eighty dollars.

The section guarded by the Thirty-ninth and the other regiments of the brigade, being on the canal and river, was one pretty thoroughly traversed by the Union soldiers and those who kept diaries made many interesting entries. There was a constant passing of boats on the canal and all roads led to Washington. Negroes on their way to the Nation's Capital might be intercepted, but if the black man asserted that he was running away from his master, he would have been a rare soldier who would turn him back. One colored person, thus halted, very aged, claimed to have been a slave of General Washington and, in reply to a query, said that the Father of his Country looked very brave. Though situated on the top of a hill, the constant wet weather made the surroundings of the camp anything but agreeable, the soil being soft and sticky; to crown all misfortunes, occasionally a tent would collapse upon its occupants in the midst of rain and wind, resulting in hurried action on the part of the unfortunate fellows who may have just come in from the exactions of a prolonged tour of picket duty.

Lucky was the man on picket when the last day of October rolled round, for on this date there were inspections and waitings in line, armed cap-a-pie, sometimes at a "shoulder arms," drills, reviews and a muster for pay. Everything seemingly that could be rung into a day's work was had. Perhaps the fact that the muster for pay covered two months of service was as agreeable an exercise as the day afforded. It was during these days that at least one company, possibly more, undertook to repeat the game so nicely played by Birney's veterans when they camped near the Thirty-ninth at the time of Stuart's crossing the Potomac; in other words, representatives of the companies, under supposed proper orders and directed by sergeants, went out some distance from camp and secured a good supply of well dried fence rails for the use of the company cooks in the preparation of food. The matter was thought quite proper, until the men were ordered into line and compelled to pick up what rails had not already been chopped into firewood and to carry them back to the place where they were obtained, though in depositing them the soldiers surely raised a sign of offense before the doors of the parties making complaint. Somehow the men could not be made to appreciate the tender manner in which some in authority thought the residents should be treated.

While each day brought its regular round of duty, there was little of novelty in successive days, the soldiers gradually hardening into the restraints and exactions of camp life. The 7th of November brought the first snow fall of the season, and though only about two inches of the fleecy reminder of northern regions fell, it was enough to impart a robe of whiteness to Mother Earth and boys-in-blue had the pleasure of snow-balling while it lasted, which was scarcely more than twenty-four hours. The 9th was Sunday and it brought the regular inspections, though the rain and cold prevented religious service and dress parade. The cold was severe enough to freeze liquids left by the occupants in their tents while out on duty. Monday, the 10th, marked a brigade inspection by General Grover, which the men inspected voted much easier than those made by their Colonel. This was the last appearance of General Grover in the brigade since on the 11th he was ordered to report to General N. P. Banks, who was organizing reinforcements for the Department of the Gulf. A native of Maine and a graduate of West Point, 1850, he had won honors at Williamsburg, Fair Oaks and at the Second Bull Run. As commander of a division in the Nineteenth Army Corps he will win still further laurels both in the extreme South and in the Valley of the Shenandoah. His independent brigade had grown to respect him highly.

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