At eleven o’clock on the night of the 2d of June we started for Phillippi.  It commenced raining about seven o’clock in the evening, and we were all wet to the skin.  The night was very dark, and the road, though they called it a ‘pike,’ was one of the worst imaginable; it wound ’round and round,’—­

  ’It turned in and turned out,
  Leaving beholders still in doubt
  Whether the wretched muddy track
  Were going South or coming back,’—­

and seemed to run in every direction but the right one.  It was a road such as can be found only in Virginia.  The mud was almost up to the hubs of the wagon-wheels; the horses pulled, the drivers laid on the lash and a string of oaths at the same time; the wind blew, and the rain came down in torrents.  More than once on that awful march did we lend a helping hand to get the horses out of some ‘slough of Despond.’  Over the mountains and through the woods we went, at the rate of about two miles an hour.  Many gave out and lay down by the wayside; and when at last morning dawned, a more pitiable set of beings never were seen upon earth.  The men looked haggard and wan, the horses could hardly stand, and we were in anything but a good condition for invading an enemy’s country.

At daylight we were within two miles of Phillippi.  Col. (now General) Lander was with the advance, and had discovered that the enemy were ready for a retreat.  Their baggage was loaded, and if we did not make the last two miles at ‘double-quick,’ he was fearful we would be too late to accomplish the object of the expedition.  So the order was given, ‘Double-quick!’ and jaded horses and almost lifeless men rushed forward, buoyed up with the prospect of having a brush with the rascals who had given us so much trouble.

We had gone about a mile and a half, when, at a turn in the road, an old woman rushed out from a log cabin, and, in a loud and commanding voice, exclaimed,—­

‘Halt, artillery, or I’ll shoot every one of you!’

Not obeying the order, she fired three shots at us, none of which took effect.  At the same time three men rushed from the back of the house toward the rebel camp at the foot of the hill, shouting at the top of their voices to give warning of our approach.  A squad of our fellows took after them, and soon overtook them in a corn-field, when they denied coming from the house, and said they were out planting corn!  A likely story, as it was hardly daylight, and the rain was falling in torrents.  However, during the forenoon they took oath, and were set free!

Past the log house we went at ‘double-quick,’ and in less time than it takes to tell it, the artillery took position in a small piece of wood on the summit of a hill overlooking the town.  At once the order was given, ‘Action front!’ and the first the rebels knew of our approach was the rattling of canister among their tents.  Out they swarmed, like bees from a molested hive.  This way and