umed.

That day (26) we passed the First army corps, commanded by the lamented
Reynolds, and reached the village of Frederick as the sun was setting.
The clouds had cleared away, and a more enchanting vision never met
human eye than that which appeared before us as we debouched from the
narrow defile up which the road from lower Maryland ran, on the
commanding heights that overlooked the valley. The town was in the
center of a most charming and fertile country, and around it thousands
of acres of golden grain were waving in the sunlight. The rain of the
early morning had left in the atmosphere a mellow haze of vapor which
reflected the sun's rays in tints that softly blended with the summer
colorings of the landscape. An exclamation of surprise ran along the
column as each succeeding trooper came in sight of this picture of
Nature's own painting.

But more pleasing still, were the evidences of loyalty which greeted us
on every hand, as we entered the village. The stars and stripes floated
above many buildings, while from porch and window, from old and young,
came manifestations of welcome. The men received us with cheers, the
women with smiles and waving of handkerchiefs. That night we were
permitted to go into camp and enjoy a good rest, in the midst of plenty
and among friends.

On Saturday morning (27) much refreshed, with horses well fed and
groomed and haversacks replenished, the Fifth and Sixth moved on toward
Emmittsburg, the Seventh having gone through the Catoctin Valley by
another road. The march was through the camps of thousands of infantry
just starting in the same direction. Among the distinguished generals
who were leading the advance, I remember, particularly, Reynolds and
Doubleday. During the day it was a constant succession of fertile fields
and leafy woods. Commodious farm-houses on every hand and evidences of
plenty everywhere, we reveled in the richness and overflowing abundance
of the land. There were "oceans" of apple-butter and great loaves of
snow-white bread that "took the cake" over anything that came within the
range of my experience. These loaves were baked in brick ovens, out of
doors, and some of them looked as big as peck measures. A slice cut from
one of them and smeared thick with that delicious apple-butter, was a
feast fit for gods or men. And then the milk, and the oats for the
horses, and everything that hungry man or beast could wish for. Those
were fat days and that was a fat