“weary length along.”  Light batteries of artillery came dashing at break-neck speed down the hillsides, their horses rearing and plunging as if wishing to take the river at a leap.  Cavalry, too, with their heavy-bodied Norman horses, their spurs digging the flanks, sabres bright and glistening and dangling at their sides, came at a canter, all seeming anxious to get over and meet the death and desolation awaiting them.  Long trains of ordnance wagons, with their black oilcloth covering, the supply trains and quartermaster departments all following in the wake of their division or corps headquarters, escorts, and trains.  All spread out over the hills and in the gorges lay men by the thousands, awaiting their turn to move.  Not a shot nor shell to mar or disturb “the even tenor of their way.”  Bands of music enlivened the scene by their inspiring strains, and when some national air, or specially martial piece, would be struck up, shouts and yells rended the air for miles, to be answered by counter yells from the throats of fifty thousand “Johnny Rebs,” as the Southern soldiers were called.  The Confederate bands were not idle, for as soon as a Federal band would cease playing, some of the Southern bands would take up the refrain, and as the notes, especially Dixie, would be wafted over the water and hills, the “blue coats” would shout, sing, and dance—­hats and caps went up, flags waved in the breeze—­so delighted were they at the sight and sound of Dixie.  The whole presented more the spectacle of a holiday procession, or a gala day, rather than the prelude to the most sanguinary battle of modern times.

The night following was cold, and a biting wind was blowing.  Only a few days before a heavy snow had fallen, and in some places it still remained banked up in shaded corners.  To those who had to stand picket out in the plain between the armies the cold was fearful.  The enemy had no fires outside of the city, and their sufferings from cold must have been severe.  My company, from the Third, as well as one from each of the other regiments, were on picket duty, posted in an open cornfield in the plain close to the enemy, near enough, in fact, to hear voices in either camp—­with no fire, and not allowed to speak above a whisper.  The night became so intensely cold just before day that the men gathered cornstalks and kindled little fires along the beat, and at early dawn we were withdrawn.

All knew full well, as the day preceding had passed without any demonstrations, only maneuvering, this day, the 13th, would be a day of battle.  A heavy fog, as usual, rose from the river and settled along the plains and hillsides, so much so that objects could not be distinguished twenty paces.  However, the least noise could be heard at a great distance.  Activity in the Federal camp was noticed early in the morning.  Officers could be heard giving commands, wagons and artillery moving to positions.  At half past ten the fog suddenly lifted, and away to