and he was never accused of showing preferment to any company.  He was kind and courteous to all, and while he mingled and caroused with the men, he never forgot his dignity nor the respect due to his superiors.  Whenever a favor was wanted, or a “friend at court” desired, he never failed to relieve and assist the poorest private the same as the highest officer.  While a strict disciplinarian, he was indulgent to almost a fault, and was often seen to dismount and walk with the troops and allow some tired or sick soldier to ride his horse.  Adjutant Pope and old “Doc,” the name of his horse, were indispensable to the 3d South Carolina regiment.  The trusty old horse, like his master, survived the war and did good service after its close.

The next day, the 13th, we took up our march in earnest.  No straggling under any circumstances was allowed.  The greatest respect was to be paid to all property, no pilfering of hen roosts, no robbery of orchards nor burning of palings or fences along the march.  Some miles in front we struck the Staunton and Winchester turn-pike, and at regular intervals the troops were halted for a few minutes’ rest.  Occasionally the bands struck up a march and the soldiers were ordered into line and to take up the step.

So away down the valley we marched with banners flying, bands playing and the soldiers with a swinging step.  Our march was regulated to about eighteen miles a day.  But with all the orders and strict discipline, a great many of the soldiers who were given the name of “Foragers” could leave camp at night and often cross the mountain into the Luray valley, a valley, strictly speaking, laden with “milk and honey.”  It had never suffered the ravages of the Shenandoah, and there everything enticing to the appetite of the soldier was found.  Before day the forager would return with butter, bread, and often canteens filled with pure old “Mountain Corn” or “Apple Jack.”  How men, after an all day’s straggling march, which is far more tiresome than an ordinary walk, could go from ten to fifteen miles over the mountains at night in search of something to eat or drink, is more than I could understand.

In a day or two we heard the news of Ewell capturing Milroy at Winchester, with 500 prisoners, and on the way a part of their troops passed us in high glee on their way to Richmond prison.  I always noticed that the Federals, on their march to Richmond, were generally in better spirits when being escorted by Confederates than when commanded by their own officers with the Confederates between them and the Southern Capital.

On the fifth day of our march we passed through Winchester, with A.P.  Hill marching parallel to us, some eight or ten miles to our right.  Ewell had pushed on to the Potomac, and was turning Washington wild and frantic at the sight of the “Rebels” so close to their capital.  As we neared the border we could discover Union sentiment taking the place of that of the South.  Those who ever sympathized with us had to be very cautious and circumspect.  Now and then we would see a window slowly raise in a house by the roadside, or on a hill in the distance, and the feeble flutter of a white handkerchief told of their Confederate proclivities.  Generally the doors of all dwellings in the extreme northern portion of Virginia, and in Maryland and Pennsylvania, were mostly closed.