We marched rapidly, Jones always in the lead.  The air was fine.  The morning star shone tranquil on our right.  Vega glittered overhead, and Capella in the far northeast, while at our front the handle of the Dipper cut the horizon.  The atmosphere was so pure that I looked for the Pleiades, to count them; they had not risen.

We passed at first along a road on either side of which troops lay in bivouac, with here and there the tent of some field officer; then parks of artillery showed in the fields; then long lines of wagons, with horses and mules picketed behind.  Occasionally we met a horseman, but nothing was said to him or by him.

Now the encampment was behind us, and we rode along a lane where nothing was seen except fields and woods.

“Jones,” said I; “are you furnished with credentials?”

“Yes, sir,” he replied; “if our pickets or patrols stop us, I can satisfy them.”

At daylight we were halted.  Jones rode forward alone, then returned and explained that our post would admit us.  We passed a mounted vedette, and then went on for a few hundred yards until we came to a crossroad.

“We are at Old Church,” said Jones.

“And we have nobody here?” I asked.

“Yes, sir; our men are over there, but I suppose we are to take the left here; we have another picket-post half a mile up the road.”

“Then we will stop with them and breakfast,” said I. We took to the left—­toward the west.  At the picket-post the road forked; a blacksmith’s shop was at the north of the road.  The sun had nearly risen.

The picket consisted of a squad of cavalry under Lieutenant Russell.  He gave me all the information he could.  The right-hand road, by the blacksmith’s shop, went across the Totopotomoy Creek near its mouth, he said, and then went on to the Pamunkey River, and at the place where it crossed the Pamunkey another road came in, running down the river from Hanover Court-House.  He was sure that the road which came in was the road from Hanover to the ferry at Hanover Old Town; he believed the ferry had not yet been destroyed.  This agreed with the map.  I asked him where the left-hand road went.  He said he thought it was the main road to Hanover Court-House; that it ran away from the river for a considerable distance, but united higher up with the river road.  This also agreed with the map.  I had scratched on the lining of my hat the several roads given on the map as the roads from Old Church to Hanover Court-House, so that, in case my memory should flag, I could have some resource, but I found that I could remember without uncovering.

The lieutenant could tell me little concerning distances; what he knew did not disaccord with my small knowledge.  I asked him if he knew where the nearest post of the enemy was now.  “They are coming and going,” said he; “one day they will be moving, and then a day will pass without our hearing of them.  If they have a post anywhere, I don’t know it.”