osed expedition, and questioned
the propriety of sending so small a force, so utterly without
information, upon so hazardous an enterprise, and apparently so foolish
a one. My language gave offense, and when I finally inquired what four
men I should take, the Colonel told me, rather abruptly, to take whom I
pleased, and look where I pleased. His manner, rather than his words,
indicated a doubt of my courage, and I turned from him, mounted my
horse, and started for the front, determined to obey the order to the
best of my ability, but to risk the lives of no others on what was
evidently a fool's errand. After proceeding some distance, I found that
the wagon-master was at my heels, and, together, we traced every
cow-path and mountain road we could find, and passed half a mile beyond
the enemy's outposts, and over ground visited by his scouts almost
hourly. When I returned to make my report, I was curtly informed that no
report was desired, as the plan had been changed.

A little after midnight the Colonel returned from head-quarters with
important information, which he desired to communicate to the regiment.
The men were, therefore, ordered to turn out, and came hesitatingly and
sleepily from their tents. They looked like shadows as they gathered in
the darkness about their chieftain. It was the hour when graveyards are
supposed to yawn, and the sheeted dead to walk abroad. The gallant
Colonel, with a voice in perfect accord with the solemnity of the hour,
and the funereal character of the scene, addressed us, in substance, as
follows:

"Soldiers of the Third: The assault on the enemy's works will be made in
the early morning. The Third will lead the column. The secessionists
have ten thousand men and forty rifled cannon. They are strongly
fortified. They have more men and more cannon than we have. They will
cut us to pieces. Marching to attack such an enemy, so intrenched and so
armed, is marching to a butcher-shop rather than to a battle. There is
bloody work ahead. Many of you, boys, will go out who will never come
back again."

As this speech progressed my hair began to stiffen at the roots, and a
chilly sensation like that which might ensue from the unexpected and
clammy touch of the dead, ran through me. It was hard to die so young
and so far from home. Theological questions which before had attracted
little or no attention, now came uppermost in our minds. We thought of
mothers, wives, sweethearts--of opportunit