in the hands of
the Federals. Being completely cut off from our army, I set out for
Winchester. Near Martinsburg I passed the night sleeping on the
ground--my first sleep in sixty hours--and reached Winchester the
following day. In a day or two, thinking our army had probably reached
the Potomac, I turned back to join it. On my way thither I called at
"The Bower," the home of my messmate, Steve Dandridge. This was a
favorite resort of Gen. J. E. B. Stuart, where, accompanied by the
celebrated banjoist, Joe Sweeny, merry nights were passed with song and
dance. I was overwhelmed with kindness by Mr. and Mrs. Dandridge, their
daughters and nieces. They would not hear of my leaving; at any rate,
until they had time to make me some undergarments. In the afternoon I
accompanied the young ladies to the fields blackberrying, and had some
jolly laughs. They felt that a Confederate soldier should be treated
like a king, that he must be worn out with marching and fighting. They
insisted on my sitting in the shade while they gathered and brought me
the choicest berries, and actually wanted to let the fences down, to
save me the effort of climbing. At that time I weighed one hundred and
ninety pounds, was in vigorous health and strength, tough as hickory,
and could go over or through a Virginia rail fence as deftly as a mule.
It was some days before our army could recross the Potomac, on account
of high water. As I rode in, on my return to the battery, I was given a
regular cheer, all thinking that I was probably, by that time, in Fort
Delaware.

Our wounded had been captured in Pennsylvania, except Tom Williamson,
who was left at the toll-house and picked up as our battery came by. As
he had become my bedfellow since Stuart's death, I was sent with him to
Winchester, where I cared for him at the home of Mrs. Anne Magill.
During my stay Randolph Tucker, a brother of Mrs. Magill, and Bishop
Wilmer, of Alabama, were guests in the house, and Mr. Tucker kept the
household alive with his songs and jokes. After a week or more in camp,
near Bunker Hill, our despondent army passed through Winchester, thence
by Front Royal across the Blue Ridge, and encamped for the remainder of
the summer in Orange County, with men and horses greatly depleted in
number and spirits.

Our battery camped at Blue Run Church and near a field of corn. Roasting
ears afforded the chief portion of our living. It was surprising to see
how much, in addition to the