aisle just beyond me.  All at once a man in dark-blue dress passed across the opening; I knew instantly that he was a Yankee, although I had never seen one in my life, and instinctively felt the hammer of my rifle, but he was gone.  Now, looking more closely, I could see glimpses of other blue men behind trees or in the bushes; I saw three of them.  They were about sixty yards from us; I supposed they were part of their picket-line.  I had a peculiar itching to take aim at one of them, and consulted the Captain with my eyes, but he frowned.

Doubtless, they had not seen us.  They were on the farther side of the Chickahominy, with a flowing stream and a wide pool stretching in their front, and were not very watchful.  We remained stiff in our places for four or five minutes; then the Captain moved slowly backward and gave us a sign to follow.

This little adventure gave me great pleasure, inasmuch as it made me feel that the Captain was favourable to me.

* * * * *

On the evening of the 25th of June we were ordered to cook three days’ rations.  The pronunciation of this word puzzled me no little.  Everybody said rash-ons, while I, though I had never before had occasion to use the word, had thought of it as rations.  I think I called it rations once or twice before I got straight.  I remembered Dr. Frost’s advice to hold fast any slightest clew, and felt that possibly this word might, in the future, prove a beginning.

The troops knew that the order meant a march, perhaps a battle.  For a day or two past an indefinite rumour of some movement on the part of Jackson’s command had circulated among the men.  Nobody seemed to know where Jackson was; this, in itself, probably gave occasion for the talk.  From what I could hear, it seemed to be thought generally that Jackson was marching on Washington, but some of the most serious of the men believed exactly the contrary; they believed that Jackson was very near to Lee’s army.

The night of the 25th was exceedingly warm.  After all was ready for the march, I lay on my blanket and tried vainly to sleep.  Joe Bellot was lying not more than three feet from me, and I knew that he, too, was awake, though he did not speak or move.  Busy, and sometimes confused, thoughts went through my mind.  I doubted not that I should soon see actual war, and I was far from certain that I could stand it.  I had never fired a shot at a man; no man had ever fired at me.  I fully appreciated the fact of the difference between other men and me; perhaps I exaggerated my peculiarity.  I had heard and had read that most men in battle are able from motives of pride to do their duty; but I was certainly not like most men.  I was greatly troubled.  The other men had homes to fight for, and that they would fight well I did not doubt at all; but I was called on to fight for an idea alone—­for the abstraction called State rights.  Yet I, too, surely had a