s
(the progress of his suit being interpreted, aside, to me), and again
fixed his gaze on the imaginary window. Each sound made by the storm he
explained as some recognition: the creaking of a bent tree was the
gentle opening of the casement, and the timely falling of a bough broken
by the wind was a bouquet thrown to his eager grasp, over which he went
into raptures. Whether the inspiration was due to a taste of some
stimulant or to his recurring moods of intense imagination, I could not
say, but the performance was genuinely artistic.

During the last night of our sojourn in this camp I had another
experience of as fully absorbing interest. A very tough piece of beef
(instead of quail) for supper proved more than my digestive organs could
stand. After retiring to my bunk several sleepless hours passed
wrestling with my burden. About one o'clock, the struggle being over,
with an intense feeling of comfort I was falling into a sound sleep when
I heard, in the distance, the shrill note of a bugle, then another and
another, as camp after camp was invaded by urgent couriers; then our own
bugle took up the alarm and sounded the call to hitch up. Meantime,
drums were rolling, till the hitherto stillness of night had become a
din of noise. We packed up and pulled out through the woods in the dark,
with gun No. 1, to which I belonged, the rear one of the battery. A
small bridge, spanning a ditch about five feet deep, had been passed
over safely by the other guns and caissons in front, but when my
gun-carriage was midway on it the whole structure collapsed. The
struggle the detachment of men and horses underwent during the rest of
this night of travail constituted still another feature of the
vicissitudes of "merry war." Fortunately for us, Lieut. Jack Jordan was
in charge, and, as Rockbridge men can testify, any physical difficulty
that could not be successfully overcome by a Jordan, where men and
horses were involved, might well be despaired of.

After reaching the Rapidan, a day was spent skirmishing with the enemy's
artillery on the hills beyond. After which both sides withdrew--we to
our former camps.

A short time thereafter I called on my old friends of the College
company, whom we seldom met since our severance from the Stonewall
Brigade. Two of these college boys, Tedford Barclay and George Chapin,
told me that a recent provision had been announced, to the effect that a
commission would be granted to any private who