e, I suppose, as they
disappeared before the day was over.

By the roadside, or rather the sidewalk, were sitting on their bags
some hardy, weather-beaten looking men. They were what was left of the
crew of the "famous Alabama," and had just landed from the gunboats
that had been blown up on the river, which had first started us on our
march. Admiral Semmes was with them; I remember some of our young men
jesting with the bronzed veterans, but we did not then know the
renowned Captain of the great Confederate war ship was there in
person, or he certainly should not have had to complain of being left
standing in the road and dusted by the "young rascals of the cavalry
rear-guard," as he does in his book. Some one of the "young cavalry
rascals" would have been dismounted, and his horse given to the man
who had carried our flag so far and fought it so well.

Acting as rear-guard, we moved very slowly, giving time for all
stragglers, wagons and worn out artillery horses to close up. Already
we began to come upon a piece of artillery mired down, the horses dead
beat, the gun left, and the horses double-teamed into the remaining
pieces. So we went into camp that night, after marching all day, only
eleven miles from Richmond, on the "Burkville road." Burkville is the
point at which the railroad branches west to Lynchburg and south to
Danville, and was our objective point.

The brigade went into camp, or bivouac rather, by squadrons, in a
piece of woods, the men picketing their horses immediately behind
their camp fires. The fires burned brightly, the horses ate the corn
the men had brought in their bags and what forage they could get hold
of during the day. Our surgeon, Dr. McLaurin, had gotten up his
ambulance, and helped out our bread and bacon with a cup of coffee and
some not very salt James River herring, that he had among his
stores--and so ended the first day's march.

We did not move until nearly nine o'clock next morning, as at our
slowest marching gait we out-travelled the march we were covering. The
day was spent in following after the movements of the army. Occasional
pieces of artillery left upon the roadside showed that the horses were
giving out. After dark we crossed the Appomattox, some twenty or
twenty-five miles from Richmond, at the railroad bridge, which was
planked over so our horses could cross. After crossing the river we
went into camp about a mile beyond, surrounded by most of the infantry
of the