little later he gave orders to his
brigadiers. The Army of the Northwest would resume the march "at early
dawn."

In the harsh coldness of the morning they retraced the road to Bath, a
frightful road, a road over which an army had passed. At noon they came
to Bath, but there was hardly a pause in the town. Beneath a sky of
lead, in a harsh and freezing wind, the troops swung slowly into a
narrow road running west through a meagre valley. Low hills were on
either side--low and bleak. Scrub oak and pine grew sparsely, and along
the edges of the road dead milkweed and mullein stood gaunt above the
snow. The troops passed an old cider press and a cabin or two out of
which negroes stared.

Before long they crossed a creek and began to climb. All the landscape
was now mountainous. To the right, as the way mounted, opened a great
view, white dales and meadows, far winter forests, and the long, long
wall of North Mountain. There was small care for the view among the
struggling soldiers. The hills seemed perpendicular, the earth
treacherous glass. Going up, the artillerymen must drag with the horses
at gun and caisson; going down the carriages must be held back, else
they would slide sideways and go crashing over the embankment. Again and
again, going down, the horses slipped and fell. The weight of metal
behind coming upon them, the whole slid in a heap to the bottom. There
they must be gotten to their feet, the poor trembling brutes! and set to
the task of another hill. The long, grey, halting, stumbling, creeping
line saw no beauty in the winter woods, in the arched fern over the
snow, in the vivid, fairy plots of moss, in the smooth, tall ailanthus
stems by the wayside, in the swinging, leafless lianas of grape, pendent
from the highest trees, in the imposing view of the mountains. The line
was sick, sick to the heart, numbed and shivering, full of pain. Every
ambulance and wagon used as ambulance was heavy laden; at every
infrequent cabin or lonely farmhouse were left the too ill to travel
farther. The poor servants, of whom there were some in each company,
were in pitiable plight. No negro likes the cold; for him all the hot
sunshine he can get! They shivered now, in the rear of the companies,
their bodies drawn together, their faces grey. The nature of most was of
an abounding cheerfulness, but it was not possible to be cheerful on
this January road to Romney.

The army crossed Sleepy Creek. It was frozen to the bottom