athizer, yet he turned away from the poor boy,
with a sad face and a deep drawn sigh, to join the moving column.

Early next morning we passed through the somewhat dilapidated village of
Fairfield. Our advance threw a few shells down the street, scattering a
body of cavalry, which had been left in town, and killing some of the
horses attached to their battery. A mile beyond the town the South
Mountain range rose in our front, the road running through a narrow
pass. Here the rear guard of the rebel army was strongly posted. Neill's
and the Jersey brigade advanced against the rebel skirmishers, but after
losing some six or eight men they were ordered to halt. General Sedgwick
deeming the position too strong to assault with his corps from the
front, reported to General Meade that the pass was very strong, and one
in which a small force of the enemy could hold in check for a
considerable time, a force much larger than its own. The main body of
the army, therefore, was moved around their flank by way of Frederick;
while Neill's brigade, with Colonel McIntosh's brigade of cavalry and
two light batteries, all under command of General Neill, were made to
form a flying division to harass the enemy in the rear.

Our march over the mountain that day was by a wild, romantic route, than
which none more charming could be asked by tourist in search of nature's
wildest moods. Before each little log house by the roadside would stand
a wondering group, astonished at seeing such multitudes of men in those
secluded regions, where scarcely a dozen travelers usually passed in a
week. At one place, as the column was passing a cottage half hidden by
sunflowers and flowering beans, those at the head of the column were
heard cheering heartily; and, as we advanced, other voices took up the
cheer, exciting the curiosity of those behind. In the midst of the
noise, sounded a shrill voice; and as we approached, we saw, sitting
upon the fence in front of the cottage, a little boy, about four years
old, his face flushed with excitement, his flaxen hair flying in the
wind, as he was waving his little hat, and with childlike indistinctness
shouting in his shrill tones, "Hurrah for 'e Union! Hurrah for 'e
Union!"

Soon those in the rear of the line heard those ahead shouting again, and
another shrill voice was heard between the cheers of the men. There by
the roadside stood an old man, over whom more than eighty years had
passed, with voice indistinct w