A TRIP TO ANTIETAM.

The great battle of the Antietam had been fought, and a veteran army was gathered around Harper's Ferry recruiting for fresh campaigns. Here was a chance to see a battle field and warriors to be celebrated for all time. From childhood up we have been taught history; and all history, except some few dry constitutional treatises, has been accounts of great commanders, of the marches and retreats of bronzed soldiers, of empires won by the sword, of dynasties established by conquests. Our hymn book, our clergymen, and our Bible have exhorted us to be soldiers of the cross, to buckle on our armor, and to fight the good fight, even when turning the other cheek when smitten on the one. Now this opportunity to see actual history, a battle field, and veteran troops, and great leaders whose names are to be household words, could not be resisted; so, taking a couple of blankets apiece, and a few clothes, and money wherewith to pay our way, we started by rail for Baltimore, and thence for the army.

Around Baltimore were several regiments. Those that we visited were of the recent levies, and were improving fast in discipline and drill. They were placed in strong positions to prevent a rebel attack from the west, and to command the city. The stars and stripes floated over houses in all parts of the town. We met a little company of boys seven miles out playing soldier, with the star-spangled banner, a cheering sign of the loyalty of the place.

At Baltimore my friend and I took seats in the car for Harper's Ferry. The train was crowded with a most miscellaneous set of passengers, officers of all grades, from general with stars to second lieutenant with plain bands, common soldiers, sutlers, Jews, and country people. Some of the Jews, after a time, became the most noisy part of the crowd, and belied their proverbial reputation for shrewdness by imbibing from bottles, which they circulated very freely, becoming very talkative, and most decidedly drunk. The most interesting companion we met was a member of the Maryland House of Representatives, a very sensible man, and of course a strong Unionist. He did not approve of the President's emancipation proclamation; thought it would alienate Union men in the Border States, and made other objections to it. He informed us that his negroes were of no profit to him; that the proclamation had made them believe they would all be free; that they did pretty much what they chose; and that Maryland would have to accede to the President's advice to the Union Border States to emancipate their slaves and receive compensation for so doing.

The railroad, after leaving the Relay House, runs along the Patapsco river, amid most beautiful scenery. We passed numerous trains with Government stores—one of baggage cars fitted up with rough seats and crowded inside and on the top with a regiment of Uncle Sam's bluecoats, cheering and singing as new troops only do. There were no signs of the devastations of war until we approached the Monocacy river. During their campaign in Maryland, the rebels at one time made this river their line of defence: it was supposed that they would make here a stand against McClellan's advance from Washington. They had burnt the woodwork of the bridge, twisted the long iron rods of the structure to one side, destroyed all the railroad building, engines, and cars they could lay hands on, and had done everything to retard our force. A new bridge had now been recently built, over which we were obliged to pass slowly. Immediately after leaving the river, the road branched, one track leading to Frederick, then an immense hospital containing seven thousand wounded soldiers, the other keeping on and striking the Potomac at the Point of Rocks. We saw soldiers and sentries at several places, but were surprised that we did not see more. The road keeps close to the river for some miles to Harper's Ferry. On the other side the ground was frequently occupied by the enemy's pickets; the difficulty of approaching the river being the only impediment to the shelling of trains on our side. The Potomac was unusually low; there had been a long season of dry, beautiful weather, rendering it fordable in many places.

At the Point of Rocks we enter upon the mountains of the Blue Ridge, and the railroad winds in the deep valley worn by the river, amid the most picturesque and beautiful scenery. The canal is between the railroad and river: its locks had been destroyed and the water drained out by the rebel hordes; for it is a great artery of life to Washington, and invaluable to an army encamped along its borders, furnishing economically the transportation of the great supplies necessary for the soldiers' subsistence. At this time it seemed of no use except as a depository for the carcasses of dead horses.

With the exception of this dismal empty canal, there were very few signs of the ravages of the armies which had lately swept through these charming valleys. A few miles from Harper's Ferry, by the side of the railroad, were great hayricks, and the barns were full to overflowing. As we approached Sandy Hook, a village of a few houses on the north side of the Potomac, about a mile from Harper's Ferry, we saw on the road, which ran close to the railroad track, thousands of the blue-bodied, white-topped army wagons. In the most crowded thoroughfare of London one would not see so many teams. From this neighborhood the great army of the Potomac drew the most of its supplies. The ninth army corps was moving this day to its camp, two or three miles northward; and part of its cannon, their brazen throats still tarnished by sulphurous smoke, added to the throng. It is surprising how large a portion of the army is composed of these baggage trains, and of the camp followers, teamsters, servants, and sutlers. A regiment of infantry, under the little shelter tents is crowded, into a small space; but the bulky baggage trains cover much ground. We spent the best part of a day, in going to and returning from the army, in the neighborhood of a small wayside tavern in this little village of Sandy Hook, with no other amusement than watching the moving of the teamsters, chatting with stray officers and soldiers, and seeing what may be called the back-stair life of the army. And we wish here to protest against the abuse which has been so abundantly heaped upon the teamsters: we found them, as a class, a respectable body of men, quite skilful in the management of their animals, comparing well with those in the same occupation in our great cities: there was certainly not so much swearing, and not so much abuse of their mules and horses, as one sees in New York. I remember their kind attention to me, some days afterward, when, in my impatience to get by a long train of teams filling up a little country road, I had imprudently urged my horse on to a ledge of rocks, where he, not being an old warhorse, hesitated, slipped, and fell flat on his side, among the mules of one of the wagons; and, as the horse, with my leg under him, was rolling to recover himself, the anxiety of the teamsters as to whether I was hurt, and then as to my horse, a fine animal, who had cut himself a little on the rocks. Their proffered assistance was very different from the oaths I should have met under similar circumstances in some Northern cities.

The army wagons are large, with great white cotton coverings, and generally drawn by six mules: the driver, usually a colored man, rides the first nigh mule, and has one rein, called the 'jerky rein,' running over the head of the mule before him, through a ring fastened to his headstall, and dividing on the back of the leader, and fastening to his bit. The mule is directed to one side or another by the driver twitching the rein and shouting. There were some few wagons driven from the box, but in all these cases that we noticed, the animals were horses, four in number, and their drivers were white. The mules and horses were generally in good condition, and quite a contrast to those in the cavalry service, which, even in a crack regiment, like the sixth regular, presented a most sorry appearance of overwork and terribly hard usage. The baggage trains and camp followers are a necessary portion of every army, and its efficiency depends in a great measure upon the perfect organization of this essential part. In the French army this organization is carried to a high degree of perfection. A small army of ten or twenty thousand men can get along with a fewer proportional number of followers, as it lives more upon the country, than a great army of one hundred thousand.

Every regiment has its own baggage wagons to carry its tents, cooking apparatus, officers' mess chests, and personal baggage. At the beginning of the war, each of the Massachusetts regiments was fitted out with from fifteen to twenty-four wagons. A recent United States regulation has limited the number to six for one regiment. The personal baggage of the regiments, however, forms a small part of the great transportation of an army. The spare ammunition is no small matter; every cannon having a supply of round shot, shell, canister, and grape: all these may be needed by each piece in a battle, as the shot used depends upon the distance of the foe. A full regiment of infantry may fire in one battle sixty thousand rounds of ammunition, weighing nearly three tons. The pontoon trains, the baggage of the staff, the forage for the horses of the artillery and of the generals, field officers, and their staffs, the food of the army, and the food and forage for this further army of camp followers—all have to be transported. The cavalry are expected to forage for their horses from off the country; all the rest have to be provided for. To carry the subsistence of a regiment of nine hundred men for one day, requires one of the six-mule teams: for a march of twenty days there must be twenty wagons. One will see from this that, next to the general, the quartermaster has the great post of responsibility. He has to see that all the supplies are obtained and forwarded to the right place. He commands all these countless wagons with their teamsters. It is also his duty, when on the march, to pick out the camp, unless the general may take it from out of his hands. The army, as a general thing, will not fight well unless it is well fed and well cared for. To assist him, the quartermaster has his necessary clerks, for he carries on a large business, with Uncle Sam as his principal, and he must account to him for every pound of coffee, bacon, flour, and hay, barrel of vinegar, keg of nails, tent or tent pin that he receives, and finally return them, or tell him satisfactorily where they have gone, and produce his vouchers; or he and his bondsmen must pay their value. All this is done by system and rule: there are mounted wagonmasters to look out for every small string of wagons, and some sort of discipline prevails among these non-enlisted men. A great army must be a moving city, capable of subsisting itself in the uncultivated and desert regions through which it often passes. Every cavalry soldier carries his spare horseshoes and nails; and every cavalry regiment and every battery of artillery has its own forge, tools, and materials for shoeing its horses and making repairs: even the quartermaster's train must have its blacksmiths and their supplies.

In travelling down the Rhone during the Crimean war, I was vainly trying to make out the meaning of the letters on the military button of an officer sitting before me; when one of his companions, who happened to be at my side, a well-educated, intelligent man, good-naturedly informed me that they indicated that the wearer belonged to the bureau of the post. He and several others on the boat had been educated for this branch of the service at a military school in Paris, and were en route for the sole purpose of taking charge of this department. We have not arrived at this perfection; for ours, after all, in many respects, is an army of volunteers; but still a messenger had to go every day to Washington for the letters of the army corps, and the telegraph and its wires travel with the camp. The officers' servants alone, in an army of a hundred and fifty thousand men, number more than the thirty-nine hundred soldiers the city of Boston has to raise for her proportion of the levy of nine-months men. The number of servants and horses of an officer depends upon his rank; he draws subsistence for the number allowed to him. A mere cavalry captain can draw for and usually has two horses. His horses and trappings, his mess, must be cared for by others; and hence the thousands of servants that must go with the thousands of officers.

But let us pass from this, which is common to every army, and proceed on our journey. The easily pulverized, light, clayey soil around Sandy Hook was raised in huge clouds by the countless wagons and the hoofs of the horses of the squads of cavalry officers, couriers, and wagonmasters. The little tavern was once, the old woman who kept it assured us, surrounded by a pretty fence, and a garden with grass and flowers: now the fence was half gone, and to its pickets were tied the horses of officers, quartermasters, baggagemasters, and orderlies, and the flowers were trampled into light dust. The provisions in the house had been eaten by hungry travellers, who were supplied with very scanty fare, and were thankful to get that. The old woman, having dealt out to us the little she had left, for which she demanded most abundant compensation, amused us with her tales. Her house had been alternately the home of Unionists and rebels. It was not many days since divisions of rebels had gone by and encamped there, both before and after the surrender of Harper's Ferry. The shells fired in that fight had passed over her tavern. Her description of the hungry, tired troopers, arriving in the evening, and surrounding the house, the men falling down asleep under their horses' bellies, horses and men packed in together as thick as a swarm of bees, was quite graphic. Her accounts of her conversations with the great rebel leaders were interesting, but I feared were apocryphal, as she ended by assuring us that General Lee had to sleep supperless on her woodpile. If it were not for this last tale, kind reader, you would have been entertained with the conversations of the great chiefs of rebeldom, as related by a reliable witness. We did hear from her, and from officers who saw the rebel soldiers at Harper's Ferry, of the pitiable condition of some of the infantry, of their naked, bleeding feet, and their gaunt looks. Our landlady affirmed that we could not find a dog in the neighborhood; for they had gone before the rebel hordes in the way that such flesh disappears before the Chinese and Pacific Islanders. It is probably true that at times they were hard pressed for food, and many badly off for shoes; but we were told by officers who saw the dead at Antietam that, though not so well shod as our men, they were shod, and they had provisions in their haversacks. The rebels have flour dealt out to them as rations on the march, and they have to cook it. Our troops have hard biscuit, called 'tack;' it is made in squares, and some which was fresh was very good; but it often comes to the regiments with maggots. This is not so much objected to; but when, in addition, it is mouldy, the men grumble. By the side of the fresh tack were some Sandy Hook veteran biscuit, that had been through the Peninsular campaign, and had come last from Harrison's Landing; the outside of the boxes was enough to condemn them, and the commissary was saying that he must get Uncle Sam's inspector-general to examine and pass upon them. When we saw this hard, mouldy old tack, we appreciated the joke of the Western boys, who declared they found the date of the baking on their biscuit in the letters 'B. C.,' 'Before Christ.' The luxury of soft bread is prized by the troops. Near Baltimore, where the 38th Massachusetts were stationed for some weeks, nice ovens were built, after the fashion of the French army, and fresh bread, meats, and the Yankee Sunday beans cooked. With the army in the field this cannot be done, but the ovens could have been built during the weeks our soldiers were resting on the banks of the Potomac. Our troops at this time were fed on the hard tack and fresh beef; and some of the men in a camp near Sharpsburg complained of the want of salt provisions. This seemed unreasonable, until we heard that they had no salt, the long distance it had to be teamed being the excuse given for the unpardonable want of it. This hard tack is doing one good thing: it is giving the men white teeth; you can tell an old soldier by his polished ivory; his teeth approach the appearance of the Italian and Swiss peasantry, who also chew hard bread. Reader, did you ever try to work your way through the hard loaf of the peasant's fare? The army regulations require tooth brushes for the men; it is supposed that the proper use keeps off ague and disease; still many regiments were without one to a company.

But to return to our old woman at the little tavern of Sandy Hook. She had tales, too, of our officers. That morning she had seen our handsomest and our most splendid-looking general—in appearance the ideal of the brigand of the romance—Burnside, riding by, with his black, tall, army felt hat, without plume or gilt eagle, brim turned down, his dark blue blouse covered with dust. 'Why,' said she, 'he looked, in his dusty blue shirt, with two old tin dippers strung by the handle at his belt, like any farmer; but I suppose he had some better clothes.' Her lament for the gallant fellows who had fallen by disease, torn by the cannon shot, or struck by the deadly rifle ball; for the sufferings of the poor, sick, lame, and mutilated soldiers; and her solemn asseverations that there was something wrong in the hearts of the leaders on both sides, to permit this suffering and loss of so many good men, was truly touching. We could not reason it out with her; logic had to give place to her pathetic lamentation. I do not, however, intend to keep my readers so long a time at this little wayside inn as I was; and will pass on to Harper's Ferry, a mile beyond.

But before we part, we certainly should not fail to notice a modern addition to the camp follower that Napoleon did not have in his grand armies—the newsboy—the omnipresent, the irrepressible gamin of the press. New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, all had contributed their quota, and what a glorious harvest they were reaping! Baltimore Americans, at five cents each; New York Heralds, Tribunes, and Times, at ten cents; and everything sold early. One little fellow was strutting around with a pair of spurs on, and styled himself 'colonel;' the others he introduced as his staff. The day's work was over, and larking had begun. I found the spurs were for use. The colonel had bought an old condemned brute, which his companions were trying to buy at the advanced price of ten dollars. The camps were at a distance, from two miles upward, and a mounted boy could bring his wares to market first. And so the whole afternoon every rider of a particularly bad horse was pestered by an offer of five or ten dollars, from a throng of dirty, noisy, scampish ragamuffins. Later in the evening, the guard went by with some three or four of the boys, for once without a grin on their faces, under arrest. We asked the colonel, who had the reputation of being an honest fellow, what was the matter with his suite. He only replied that it was hard times for newsboys, if that was the way things were going; and walked off, clanking his long spurs over the stones.

The railroad and road from Sandy Hook to Harper's Ferry run under the Maryland Heights, the rocks having been blasted away for a passage. The railroad bridge had been rebuilt, not permanently, but so that trains could again cross. Lower down the river were the remains of the pontoon bridge destroyed by the rebels. Higher up on the other side of the railroad was a new pontoon bridge, built on boats, painted with Uncle Sam's light blue color. Farther up, the wagons were fording the stream. As you crossed the pontoon bridge, you came directly to the little stone engine house, with its belfry, where John Brown held the power of the great State of Virginia at bay. All else of the Government buildings are in ruins. The long lines of brick and stone walls blackened by fire, and the picturesque broken arches of the engine-house windows, were a fit greeting to one's entrance upon the ruined grandeur of the Old Dominion. Through the clouds of dust and the noise and confusion of the village upon the hill rising immediately above the river, we rode, noting the signs of the recent contest, or looking down on the blue Potomac, flowing peacefully below. One large brick house had a breach in the basement story large enough for us to ride in, caused by some bursting shell. Dead horses still lay in the road; the tailpiece of a broken cannon was yet there. As we emerged out of the dust at the top of the hill beyond, toward the afternoon sun, rose Bolivar Heights, and the innumerable white tents of General Sumner's large army corps. The soldiers were out for drill or dress parade. The distant sounds of the bands and bugles and drums, sometimes succeeding each other, then mingling together, fell softened but constantly on the ear, and everywhere was the gleam of the declining sun on glistening sword or bright musket barrel. Behind us to the east, and beyond the Shenandoah, which flowed at the foot of the village, arose the high Loudon Mountains; on the north, on the other side of the Potomac, were the Maryland Heights, with the road to Sharpsburgh and Williamsport winding along its wooded base. The tops of these mountains were lighted up and wreathed with the smoke of the fires kindled to destroy the thick woods that might afford shelter to approaching enemies. It was most charming mountain scenery. We enjoyed the view long, but had to turn our backs at last; and as we recrossed the pontoon bridge we wiped off from the soles of our feet a large portion of the sacred soil of Virginia. Yes, the sacred soil of Virginia, the mother of presidents, the home of Washington, Patrick Henry, Jefferson, and Madison, and of how many others famous in our history. O Virginia, what a contrast is there now! the blood of thy boasted chivalry struggling manfully stains the ground; thy soil is ground to powder under the heel of the hated mudsils of the North; thy fertile plains and beautiful valleys are trodden down by armed men; the fierce contest, and desolation and want have come to every household; and the cry arises for thy sons that are not!

The headquarters of Gen. McClellan were two or three miles north of Knoxville, a little village on the Potomac, about three miles below Harper's Ferry. The day that we were there, the General was absent on his way to meet Mrs. McClellan, and though the telegraph wires ran to headquarters, nothing was there known of the foray Stuart had begun early that morning from Hancock, in the rear of our forces; not till evening, and until his arrival at Chambersburg did the news arrive. If the telegraph wires had been laid, or the signal corps so stationed as to have given warning of the inception of this movement, these bold rebels could not have advanced so far, but would have been compelled to retreat as they came. Between the General's headquarters and the river were the famous sixth cavalry of regulars and some batteries of artillery. He had no guard in the direction of Pennsylvania toward the northeast, where Stuart's cavalry passed on their way to the Potomac. The camp itself was not well placed, and was soon changed. In going from it we rode through a most beautiful country by the side of an officer of the sixth cavalry, and listened to his enthusiastic account of scouting in front of our lines, in the footsteps of the retreating enemy, over the very roads we were travelling safely and without concern; and yet we were not many miles from the foe, and within reach of the marvellous flight of the minié ball, which some lurking rifleman might aim from the other side of the Potomac. These cavalry soldiers and horses have had a terribly hard time of it. The horses of the sixth were more broken down and thinner than in the artillery or baggage trains. Two squadrons had lately been part of the force sent on a reconnoisance to Leesburg; and upon the return of our troops it had been the duty of our companion, then in command, to bring up the rear and drive in the infantry stragglers. Some two hundred had fallen out of the ranks from mere exhaustion. To leave any of these soldiers behind would be giving them up as prisoners, and affording the enemy the opportunity of obtaining information which it was of the utmost importance for the safety of the expedition to keep back. The troopers had therefore to drive them on with their swords—not a pleasant duty, when the poor fellows were faint and used up by fatigue—still it must be done. This service creates quite a dislike between the two arms. The infantry man hates the horseman, and the cavalry man despises the foot soldier. At this time straggling was quite prevalent: we saw on byroads many who had left the ranks, almost invariably having thrown away their arms, and subsisting on plunder. The cavalry were scouring the roads for them, and were bringing them in as prisoners for punishment. This sixth cavalry, like all the old regiments which had been through the Peninsular campaign and the disastrous retreat under Pope, was frightfully reduced in numbers: only three hundred and seventy were around the standards out of the eleven hundred who first took the field. Many had fallen on picket or been cut off singly, more by disease, but alike doing their duty, unmentioned and unnoticed. A larger number were yet suffering from overwork and sickness; and the regiment would in time recruit to seven hundred, from men now disabled, if there should be no more casualties.

A few days in camp, in a good-sized tent—none of the two-feet-high shelter affairs—in pleasant summer weather, is, on the whole, something new and exhilarating. The ground, to be sure, is rather hard, particularly when you have no straw; and a soldier's table is not always the most luxurious in the world. Now that we are safe, dry, and warm, at home, we can venture to declare that we were very unfortunate in losing the sensation of going without food, of sleeping in the mud and in the rain—our arms girded on—any moment to be aroused by the whistle of the bullet or the roll of the drum calling us to the deadly strife.

To us, however, it was all couleur de rose. In the early morn, at break of day, it was not the crow of the cock, or the jarring rattle of the wheels of the city baker or milkman, but the reveille that waked us from our martial dreams. The drum of the infantry, the bugles of the cavalry and artillery would begin; some early riser would rouse up his regiment; then another would take it up; until the call had gone through every corps. The old staid rub-a-dub of the English drummer is giving place to the stirring French rat-a-plan. And there was one band that generally led off in a splendid style. They did beat their drums lively and sharply. Not being obliged to be up with the sun and cook our own breakfast, we generally contrived to get a little more sleep. After breakfast, the bands were playing for guard-mounting; and we sat gazing down into the valley from our tent upon the large army corps encamped below. We were on the western slope of the Blue Ridge, through whose gaps not many days before, a few miles farther north, Franklin had successfully fought his way. Still farther up, Burnside, with Reno and Hooker under him, had at South Mountain driven the enemy in—that battle which came to us so welcome, the first victory after Pope's disasters, and the retreat from the Peninsula. The valley below us was Pleasant Valley. The opposite side to our tent was a short spur of the Blue Ridge; the southern extremity of which is the Maryland Heights, so well known in the history of the surrender of Harper's Ferry. The valley between is fertile and highly cultivated, full of mountain springs and brooks, emptying into one stream of sufficient size to turn the wheels of a large mill; the water is delicious; the prevailing limestone does not reach this valley. In the morning before the army moved there, the little river was clear as crystal; at night it was changed into an opaque white color, a stream of soapy water; a pleasing witness to the cleanliness of our men. There were no clothes lines, however, but many of the washers were so scantily off for clothing that they put their garments on to dry. The farmhouses in the valley are mostly of stone. It is a most charming and beautiful place, and appropriately called 'Pleasant Valley.' The farmers are prosperous; and the land so rich that it sells for the high price of seventy and eighty dollars an acre. The mountains rising on the sides of the valley are thickly wooded; and in the cultivated fields between were crowded the tents of the ninth army corps. With the exception of one or two new regiments who had wall tents, the soldiers were under little shelter tents, of which each man carries a piece. The infantry were encamped in divisions and brigades; the cavalry generally picketed along a fence; the horses and men, except the officers, without shelter. The encampments of the artillery and cavalry with their horses, forges, and wagons, covered much ground; but the infantry were thickly crowded together; and it was surprising to see how many men a small encampment would turn out.

In the afternoon came drills, sometimes of regiments, sometimes of brigades, and the unfailing dress parade. There were a few regiments of new levies just arrived, a thousand strong; all provided with overcoats, and looking finely in their new, clean clothes—quite a contrast to the old soldiers. In one of the old regiments on brigade drill we saw an officer, probably a sergeant, in a checked knit undervest, his neck and part of his arms bare—commanding a company. A sentry on guard before the quarters of the general in command, had great holes in both elbows of his dirty jacket, and his shoes were untied. The brigades were generally of five regiments, a new regiment being one, and composing fully two fifths of the line. It is not wholly, however, by the casualties of the battle or the greater losses from exposure, overwork, and disease, that the regiments are diminished. If a good blacksmith is found, he is detailed to the forge; others are detached as ambulance drivers, or as hospital attendants or clerks. This thins the ranks of the old regiments. It is surprising, however, to see how much better the veterans will bear exposure than men coming fresh from home. The old regiments were frightfully diminished by disease on the Peninsula; but I saw very few that could not rally more men than the 35th Massachusetts, that had been out of the State only a little over a month. They had but three hundred men of the original thousand. They left Washington without their knapsacks; and had marched without even the shelter tents, officers and men alike bivouacking on the ground, wearing the same clothes without a change. The long marches, the exposures, the excitement of battle, and the unaccustomed food had disabled four hundred men; some of them undoubtedly never strong enough to have enlisted, and who should have been rejected by the examining surgeons. The old regiments, who had gradually been hardened to this life, and who had learned to thrive on the soldier's fare, lost comparatively few in this way.

The brigade drills and the manœuvres in line were not so well executed as we expected. There was no practice in firing at a mark; probably from a want of ammunition. From accounts of officers on the field of battle, it certainly is the case in our army that some of the fresh soldiers will fire in the air, and even close their eyes. The Hythe system, as now taught in the English army, and among the rifle clubs, makes excellent marksmen; and the greater part of the instruction is without the use of powder. It is a pity it cannot be more extensively introduced in our army.

One does not expect to find the same training before the enemy as in the great French camps of instruction. It was my good fortune to visit the camp of a portion of the great Crimean army. The privates, besides their military drill, were exercised in running, leaping, fencing, and boxing; and some sergeants were teaching dancing. I followed a regiment of the chasseurs of Vincennes to their field of drill. For an hour or two they went through different manœuvres by the bugle, performing many of the movements at the double quick. Then came a rest; as soon as that was ordered, the fine band of the regiment came forward and struck up a lively dance, to the tune of which several of the privates amused and refreshed themselves by waltzing round the field.

Returning, however, to our picturesque camp in this charming valley. There was no more striking scene than when darkness came on and the thousand camp fires and lights in the tents were all in sight. The rail fences, bought by the thoughtful quartermaster, and paid for as an army supply, were used as fuel; a truly considerate act, for a quartermaster can buy fuel for the army, but he cannot pay damages done to property. This same ground, now covered by our troops, had been camped over by Lee's army; who had also used the fences, not even paying for them in the worthless Confederate scrip. Soon after dark, the bright lights of the signal corps appeared on the mountain north of the Maryland Heights, and messages were sent to McClellan's headquarters. Flags are used in the day, and at night lanterns. The signal officer has two lights; they are held one above the other, the lower one being stationary; moving the upper light to the right means number one; moving the light to the left, number two; moving first to the right and then to the left, number three; by lowering the upper light in front of the under one, a fourth signal is given; and so on. There are about five numbers; and by the different combinations of these five numbers, there is made a great number of signals, which can be read by the officers who have the key. The mode is much the same as that used by our mercantile marine with their signal flags. The signals are given very rapidly, and a few minutes suffice for the sending of the messages.

Evening is the time for talk around the camp fires; and the conversation often turns upon our rebellious brethren. Among our regular officers you meet the classmates and old companions in arms of the rebels, and hear of little traits and peculiarities that only intimate acquaintances can relate. Civilians who had known General Lee at Washington, have spoken of him as very formal, and rather pompous in his manner, giving the impression that he was a man of more show and pretence than abilities. We learned here, however, that, in Texas, or California, where he was for a long time before he took his high position on Scott's staff, he was famous for marching his men without the usual encumbrances of baggage, on the most severe expeditions against the Indians, in the snow and cold of the winter. Stonewall Jackson has always been famed for his peculiarities. When a young man, he was possessed with the idea that he was in danger of having his limbs paralyzed, and he would pump on his arm for many minutes, counting the strokes, and annoyed beyond measure by the interruptions of his companions breaking up his count. Our officers, both regular and volunteer, who have been in actual battle, have a great respect for the rebel leaders and soldiers; they speak very highly of their drill, and believe that straggling exists to a less extent among them, in battle, than with us. From the rebel newspapers I should doubt whether this is the case. One thing we have not considered, which has given the rebels a great advantage in this contest. It is the large number of military colleges in the South; not like our few private schools at the North, but well-endowed academies. In the summer of 1860, immediately before the election of Lincoln, I visited the military academy at Lexington, Virginia. It was supported at the expense of the State, with two hundred and more pupils, coming from the different counties in proportion to their population. They were practised in the actual firing of cannon and mortars; and every afternoon were drilled as infantry for about two hours, much of the time at the double quick. The principal was a graduate of West Point; and he was assisted by a respectable board of instructors. A good civil and military education, after the mode of instruction at West Point, was afforded to the students. This institution had been in existence for years; and one can readily appreciate the advantage that Virginia has in this war from the graduates of this school. Alabama and several other of the Southern States have similar colleges; while we at the North have been obliged to educate all our volunteer officers by actual service.

The morning Stuart with his cavalry left Chambersburg, we rode forth for the battle field of the Antietam. We noticed the disappearance of some of the camps of the infantry brigades. We knew of the patrolling of the cavalry along the road we were pursuing, and found the picket guards farther out, and passes and countersigns necessary where before we went unchallenged. We were several hours in getting to the battle field, and stopped to get some refreshments at a large brick farmhouse, where the battle on the left began. The hospital flag was still flying over the building, though no patients had been there for a day or two. Twenty-seven died in that one farmhouse from wounds received in that bloody fight. On the night of the battle, cows, sheep, poultry, and fences disappeared before our cold and hungry troops. But since then, though the house was in the neighborhood of several camps, the old lady and her daughters, who alone were at home, had been undisturbed, except by the small pilferings of stragglers.

The great battle has been so well described by the correspondents of the newspaper press, and by those who were over the field before we were, that I shall only mention a few incidents to which our attention was called. The principal contest was on the right, west of the Antietam river. Here Hooker with his army corps began the battle, and fought so long and splendidly. Both armies crowded their forces to this part of the field. Sumner, whose troops had been with their belts on since three in the morning, brought up his large corps, drawn up in three columns, forty paces apart, to reënforce Hooker's hard-pressed soldiers, who were retreating before the fresh and overwhelming reënforcements of the enemy. In less than an hour, the whole of Sumner's corps was swept back, broken and entirely routed, and never appeared in the field again; the column in the rear not being in position to fire a gun, but losing as many men as those in front.

The manner in which General Sumner brought his troops into action has been severely criticized, even by officers of his own corps; whether justly or not, it is difficult to decide. No commander was more confided in by his soldiers than Sumner. 'He has risen from the ranks, and been through all the grades of the service,' 'He knows how to treat his men,' were expressions constantly heard. General Hooker's reputation as a fighting general was admitted everywhere; his coup d'œil of the battle field was represented as most excellent.

It was also on the right that the desperate fighting in the woods and the deadly struggle at close quarters in the cornfield with such fearful loss of life took place. An officer who was on the battle fields of Magenta and Solferino, says that the scene here was much more horrible. Many spoke of the scenes they saw with a shudder. They could not throw off the impression made by the masses of wounded and dead; the wounded often lying neglected and helpless under the dead, sometimes crushed to death by the wheels of our own artillery.

Our left at Antietam was far off from the right: in these days of guns of long range the line of battle is longer than it was formerly. At Waterloo the English occupied a front of less than two miles. In this battle ours was about four miles. In the battle of Solferino the engagement extended for eighteen miles.

The contest on the left was fought by General Burnside with only one army corps, the ninth. The battle at this place was a most gallant affair, but has excited less attention than the bloody fight on the right. In the dusty, tiresome march through Maryland, in the skirmishes in and around Frederick, during the glorious hearty welcome our troops received in that old town, the advance, consisting of both Hooker's and Reno's army corps, had been commanded by Burnside. With them he had fought the successful and brilliant battle of South Mountain, coming to us so gratefully after the disastrous repulse and retreat of Pope. Reno had unfortunately fallen, and General Burnside took command of his corps: it was his old force from North Carolina, increased by General Cox's Kanawha troops, and some new regiments, in all a little short of twenty thousand men. On the morning of the battle, Burnside took his station on the east side of the Antietam, in a field overlooking the country on the other side of the river. The gathering of his staff to their breakfast brought the shells of the enemy in their midst, and compelled a change of position to the rear of some haystacks. On the same hill was placed a formidable battery of rifled cannon, throwing twenty-pound shot, commanded by Lieutenant Benjamin, of the regular artillery. The guns are so heavy that they each have eight horses to drag them, and the caissons have six. There was unfortunately a short supply of ammunition, and the battery was fired slowly during the day. The guns were well placed and served, and aimed with wonderful accuracy. Shells were planted in two of the enemy's ammunition carts, blowing them to pieces; and the fire of cannon was so hot that it compelled a rebel battery two miles off, coming down a road to get into position, to wheel round and gallop over the hill. Proud, indeed, were the Lieutenant's men of their exploits on that day, and wonderful stories they told of their famous battery.

The Antietam in front of Burnside was deep, not fordable, flowing in the bottom of a charming valley, and overshadowed by trees. There was a solid stone bridge over it, with three arches, rising picturesquely in the centre, with stone parapets on the sides, the parapets spreading at both ends of the structure. One would almost imagine that it was an old Italian bridge transported to our wooden-building land. The side of the valley held by the rebel troops rises sharply, not densely wooded, but covered by large trees thickly placed, as in an old English park. Along the top of this ridge ran a solid stone wall, thicker and of heavier stones than any we saw in the neighborhood. Where the wall ended rifle pits had been dug. Behind the massive trunks, and in the branches of the old trees, behind this wall and in the pits, were crowded the sharpshooters of the rebels. The ascent from the bridge out of the valley on the enemy's side, was too steep for a straight road up the ridge. If ever a bridge could be defended, that should have been; the only disadvantage the rebels were under was that they could not sweep it with artillery.

Our left had vainly attempted to cross the bridge; twice had they been repulsed. On the right our troops were hard pressed; much of the ground gained in the morning had been lost; Hooker was wounded, Sumner's corps routed, Mansfield killed, and his corps beaten back. Then McClellan ordered Burnside to take the bridge, and hold it at any cost. Burnside sent some troops farther down the river, where it was fordable. He called up one of his old brigades that had been with him in North Carolina, saying, if any brigade could take the bridge, that one would. It was composed of the 51st New York, 51st Pennsylvania, 21st Massachusetts, and a Rhode Island regiment; on their colors were inscribed, 'Roanoke,' 'Newbern,' two of our most glorious victories. With these veteran troops was the 35th Massachusetts, a new regiment that had left home only a month before, but who nobly did their part. Down went the 51st Pennsylvania in column in the advance, at the run, shouting and crowding and firing as they hurried across the bridge, bringing down the rebels from the trees, suffering themselves, but never halting. They crossed and deployed on the other side. Next came the 35th Massachusetts, over the bridge, up the valley, then forming in line of battle on the top of the small hill commanding the stream. The enemy were drawn up before them, quite a distance off, on the top of the next hill. Every inch of ground between was commanded by the rebel fire; but our brave fellows charged on up this hill, driving the foe before them: they did not halt there, for another still higher hill, which could now for the first time be seen farther on, rose up before them. Nothing daunted, they followed up their charge, and drove the enemy from this hill, and took this most commanding position. There they halted, close to Sharpsburg, almost in the rear of the rebels. Some of our troops even penetrated to Sharpsburg itself, and were taken prisoners. A short distance farther would have cut off the enemy's direct retreat to the Potomac. Rebel troops were seen hurrying on the road to the river. Our men were now fired upon by artillery, and attacked by fresh bodies of infantry coming up, as the enemy say in their account, from Harper's Ferry. Our brave fellows, however, stood their ground, waiting for reënforcements, which Burnside called for. But McClellan, unfortunately, dared not throw in his reserves; his object had probably been gained in making a diversion from the hard contested field on our right. Our gallant fellows had to stand there unsupported until their ammunition gave out; they fired their sixty rounds of ammunition, collecting all they could from their dead and wounded comrades, and then began to retreat. Benjamin's battery of artillery was also short of ammunition, and could not support them. Our brave boys only retreated to the next hill, not to the hill above the Antietam, and then lay on their arms during the night, and there they stayed during the next day, expecting the order to advance.

Little mounds of earth, covering fallen heroes, point out the course of our soldiers all the way from this side of the Antietam to the top of the farthest hill. Here our men were so much more exposed than the rebels that our loss was greater than theirs. On the right the rebel loss was much the larger.

In the battle beyond the river, the Hawkins Zouaves, another of the regiments distinguished in North Carolina, captured a rebel battery at the point of the bayonet. In the rebel account we are told how the brave General Toombs, with a whole brigade, retook the battery and defeated this single regiment, which they magnify into an immense force.

General McClellan, with all his knowledge and great skill and success in defensive warfare, as shown in his Peninsular campaign, after our defeat at Gaines's Mill, is wanting in the rapidity of comprehension and audacity which are necessary components of the highest military talent. He waits for too many chances, and fears any risk.

In the battle of Antietam, he had fifteen thousand fresh men under Fitz John Porter in the centre. The enemy had probably used their last soldier, for the correspondent of the Charleston Courier, who has given the best rebel account of the battle, impliedly states that they had no reserves left. Ignorant of our unused troops, he laments the want of a few more rebel men, and says, that if only five thousand of their stragglers, who were on the way to Winchester, had been present, a most decisive rebel victory would have been obtained. If McClellan had added Fitz John Porter's reserve to Burnside's soldiers, he would have had nearly thirty-five thousand men flanking the enemy, already beaten, and threatening their retreat across the Potomac. Who knows what those fresh men might not have done? Many think that the doubtful victory would have ended in the most brilliant decided success, and the stone bridge of Antietam would have stood in history by the side of Arcola and Lodi. But let us be thankful for what we did achieve: never should the nation forget how a retreating, discouraged, defeated, demoralized, and even mutinous army, that had suffered terribly in killed and wounded, and lost prisoners and large numbers of cannon and material, was again reformed, and marched triumphantly against a victorious foe; achieved on Sunday the brilliant victory of South Mountain, and on Wednesday fought the bloody fight of Antietam. There we captured cannon, small arms, and standards, and lost none. Many have forgotten that ever since spring the rebels have boasted that the war was to be carried within our territory; that they had begun this programme; and that General Lee in entering Maryland had issued a boasting proclamation, promising to redeem it from a hated tyranny. If he had succeeded, and defeated McClellan, as he had beaten Pope between Manassas and Washington, we had no reinforcements or forts to prevent his march to Philadelphia. McClellan's presence stirred the common soldier as Napoleon's did, and it was this unbounded enthusiasm which he excited, that saved the nation when he took command at Washington. I know of nothing that made me more indignant than the folly of some ladies who, among his soldiers on the Potomac, decried and denounced him as an imbecile. What treachery can be worse than the attempt to destroy the confidence of the soldiers in their leader, when their lives depend upon his judgment and skill, and there can be only dejection and despair when that judgment and skill are doubted.

Upon our return from the battle field to Pleasant Valley, we heard that orders to McClellan to advance had come from Washington. The only answers to inquiries when the advance would take place, were ominous shakings of the head or shrugs of the shoulders, which were indicative of anything but belief in a speedy movement. We also heard of the appointment of General Burnside to the command of three army corps, the precursor of a greater command yet to come. We have in our new commander-in-chief a general who has an implicit belief that our cause is just, and a trust in Providence that he will make the just cause victorious. In General McClellan we had also a general who believed in Providence, and who has always shown great reverence in his writings. General McClellan is reticent. You can, however, tell somewhat of the opinion of the head of the house from his children; and judging from the tone of belief among the General's military family, from that long delay after Antietam, it was pretty evident that in his opinion the South cannot be subdued, and that the question between us was a matter of boundary. With General Burnside we have no such belief. His faults, if they are faults, are those of the bold general, not of the Fabian order. At Newbern he brought at once into the fight every soldier he had, not keeping one in reserve; and he gained the battle by his audacious policy. And it is the wonder to this day of every one who has been over the battle field, that the enemy should have been beaten. With all this boldness, he is a modest man; twice before having refused the chief command: once when it was offered to him at the time Pope was appointed; again when McClellan took it before Washington. Of a commanding figure, every inch a soldier, one cannot look upon him and his kindly eye without instant admiration. His modest way of riding among the men, alone or attended by a single orderly, will make him beloved by our republican soldiers. He was so then, and 'Old Burn,' as they familiarly called him, was everywhere heartily received. By the way, McClellan's nickname on the Peninsula was 'George,' and not 'Little Mac,' as is generally supposed.

General Burnside, we believe, is a good judge of men. The generals he selected for his North Carolina expedition, though previously unknown, and but captains in the service, have already distinguished themselves and justified his choice. General Foster, now commanding the department of North Carolina, has shown himself an able, active general. All who have been connected with him, speak highly of him. Though not a Massachusetts man, he has a peculiar penchant for Massachusetts troops: he was first at Annapolis, and picked out for the first brigade the Massachusetts soldiers. Recently, through the Governor, he has obtained some eight or ten more regiments, and in some way or other he has the crack ones.

General Reno, who was Burnside's second brigadier, has made a reputation that will live forever in his country's history. At the battle of Roanoke the little general, but a month before a captain of ordnance, stood up fearlessly in the swamp amid his men, when they were lying down by his direction, and coolly gave his orders and encouraged them, entirely regardless of the balls flying round him on every side. In Pope's retreat, and amid disaster and defeat, he acquired new reputation by his skill, energy, and daring. A Virginian by birth, he was truly a loyal man; and, unlike some generals of our army corps, obeyed orders, and did all that could be done for the country and the general in command. His testimony that Pope's dispositions were good, if he had only been obeyed, should weigh much in that general's favor. After the victory of South Mountain, he was reconnoitring the enemy, when he fell by a random shot, which came, so those who were in the action say, from some soldier of our force. Lyon, Kearny, Reno, gone! Have we three such men left?

General Park, an accomplished soldier, who particularly distinguished himself at the battle of Newbern, was General Burnside's third brigadier. The country will feel renewed confidence from his remaining with our new commander as chief of staff.

On the morning we left the camp, a squad from a new regiment just arrived had been detailed for the guard at headquarters; one of the sentries was smoking his pipe as he marched up and down; another, who should have been patrolling his beat, was seated on the ground, cleaning his musket with a piece of wash leather he pulled from his pocket. The General was not near to stop these unsoldierly occupations. We came to the opinion that the boys in that regiment had never been to a country muster; but they were stout fellows and looked like fight.

At Sandy Hook, on the day of our return, we had to wait until nine in the evening for the train to Baltimore. Stuart's cavalry had been over the road in the morning, making their escape into Virginia. They dared not stay to do mischief; our forces were at all the important points. Considering the immense supplies in the rear of the army, Stuart did very little harm; his eight hundred fresh horses were not worth the risk he ran. If he could have seized our supplies at Monocacy Station, and burnt the bridge there, he would have inflicted a serious loss upon the army. The nature of his raid seemed well understood, and there was no apprehension then of the enemy's holding the railroad; for the train from Baltimore had passed over the restored rails a few hours after the retreating troopers. At every important point we found soldiers, and near Frederick we were glad to hear that seven of the sick troopers, used up by their hard service, had fallen behind and been taken. We learned that General Pleasanton with some of our cavalry was in pursuit, and there were several stories about an engagement: the firing of cannon had been heard. General Pleasanton at that time was held in very little esteem, and seemed to have particularly disgusted those who had served under him, and was often cited as an example of McClellan's lack of judgment in men. He appears since to have acquired a newspaper reputation for ability and energy. I only hope that it is deserved, and that the opinions we heard so often were not well founded.

We arrived at the Baltimore depot at four in the morning amid a rain, and found it occupied by some one or two thousand soldiers, standing and sitting about in their blue overcoats with their arms stacked. Not a carriage could be obtained, and so, shouldering our bag in military fashion, we marched for the Eutaw House. At the door was stationed a guard, marking it as the headquarters of Major-General Wool. We passed by unchallenged; in our bag, however, we had rebel ammunition: a loaded shell fired at our men as they were crossing the stone bridge at Antietam. Fortunately the fuse had gone out, and it remained a trophy for one of the despicable Down-East Yankees. We heard the old General was still the centre of attraction to the pretty secesh ladies who had friends or relatives in durance vile in Fort McHenry. The veteran hero, though rich, wears a uniform that shows the marks of service. That, however, does not prevent the constant presents of delicious fruit and beautiful flowers, and invitations to drive to the fort, from those bewitching belles of Baltimore: whereat some strong Union people grumble loudly.