reak. Bright fires blazed in front of the tents, and the men who
occupied them were enjoying an unusually hearty meal. The faded
uniforms of the men were tattered and torn; some of the soldiers were
almost barefoot, wearing wretched apologies for shoes, which had been
supplemented when practicable by bits of cloth tied about the soles of
the feet. The men themselves were gaunt and haggard. Privation,
exposure, and hard fighting had left a bitter mark upon them. Hunger
and cold and wounds had wrestled with them, and they bore the indelible
imprint of the awful conflict upon their faces. It was greatly to
their credit that, like their leader, they had not yet despaired. A
movement of some sort was evidently in preparation; arms were being
looked to carefully, haversacks and pockets were being filled with the
rude fare of which they had been thankful to partake as a Christmas
dinner; ammunition was being prepared for transportation; those who had
them were wrapping the remains of tattered blankets about them, under
the straps of their guns or other equipments; and the fortunate
possessors of the ragged adjuncts to shoes were putting final touches
to them, with a futile hope that they would last beyond the first mile
or two of the march; others were saddling and rubbing down the horses.

A welcome contribution had been made to their fare in a huge steaming
bowl of hot punch, which had been sent from the farmhouse, and of which
they had eagerly partaken.

"What's up now, I wonder?" said one ragged veteran to another.

"Don't know--don't care--couldn't anything be worse than this," was the
reply.

"We 've marched and fought and got beaten, and marched and fought and
got beaten again, and retreated and retreated until there is nothing
left of us. Look at us," he continued, "half naked, half starved, and
we 're the best of the lot, the select force, the picked men, the
head-quarters guard!" he went on in bitter sarcasm.

"Yes, that 's so," replied the other, laughing; then, sadly, "Those
poor fellows by the river are worse off than we are, though. What
would n't they give for some of that punch? My soul, wasn't it good!"
he continued, smacking his lips in recollection.

"Where are we going, sergeant?" asked another.

"Don't know; the command is, 'Three days' rations and light marching
order.'"

"Well, we're all of the last, anyway. Look at me! No stockings,
leggings torn, no shirt; and you'd scarcely call t