P. M. we started for camp ahead of the train. We arrived on the pike a little after dark; steady rain. The pike is cut, in general, into five paths; if you can keep steady, careful, ready for mishaps, you may get along two miles an hour. Soon, the darkness was so great we could not see the track at all, nor our file leader, except occasionally, we caught a glimpse of his head against the murky sky.

Down some one would go, up to the knee in a rut full of water and mud.

We arrived in camp at midnight, coats dry (thanks to the rubber blankets for that!) pants soaked, shoes full of mud and water; the mud extending up indefinitely. Here in town, we waded through thin mud a foot deep; so you can imagine how we looked, not to speak of how we felt. Wearied out, we threw off our wet clothes, fell into our blankets and lay there till 9 A. M., put on our wet clothes, and had pork and coffee for breakfast. I never saw men so stiff. I begin to pride myself on my powers of physical endurance, inasmuch as I was not sick. This carrying knapsacks foraging, who ever heard of such a ridiculous thing? It is reported, the Colonel said it was no use putting us into the first division, - they have to fight first, for his men were being killed off fast enough already. Where we stopped we took all the corn, the

man and woman expostulating in vain. I milked a cow, and had a good cup of crackers and milk, but there is a notable difference between hard bread and butter crackers.

"We have just bought a Sibley stove, four dollars, government price two and a half. You would like to drop into our tent,' it would be the only way when we are all in.

"We hear our brigade are to be mounted as cavalry; all right; infantry one year, cavalry one year, then, 'stove up,' we will try artillery a twelve month, crush the rebellion, then home! What bubbles! Thank God if I am a year in the service; but we are well toughened; I have stood much, may stand more, then like Ponsonby, having survived a dozen wounds at Waterloo, be killed by a chicken-bone or carpettack.

"The scenery here is beautiful. I am glad I am a soldier of the Cumberland, — all glory to the Western army! yet glory is nothing; an idle hour's brief talk, a flower that blooms to-day and dies to-morrow.

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Mary, I send you the remnant of my plume; it has traveled up and down, through rain and sunshine, in cold and heat, from Oshkosh here; if it could speak, it would amuse you many an hour with its stirring tales. Mother, a letter from you to the boys, full of

patriotic fire, and at the same time appreciating what its execution costs us, would be acceptable.

"Our captain is faithful and true, a genial noble soul, not afraid of losing his dignity and so obliged to throw on airs; he can be emphatic without an oath, and cheerful without the sparkling cup, a model officer.

"Thank Mr. L

for papers; those who think to make the American soldier more brave by keeping him in ignorance have mistaken his character. We are citizens and men, and shall fight the better, the better we understand the justice of our cause.

"We should be glad to have marching orders to-night; a soldier dislikes to stay long in one place; we are ready for action.

"How I should like a tune on the melodeon ! “Yours cheerfully,

"M. HOLMES, JR."

CHAPTER X.

CAMP-LIFE.

Letter to the Sabbath school- -Chief of court martial-Keepsakes sent to friends - A scouting party-Preparation for death — Lights on the battle-field-Character developed in the armyDesires to have his father a chaplain.

FTEN did Mead in his letters allude to his beloved Sabbath school, but never found time to write except once, and then he addressed the younger members only. This letter is introduced here to show the ease and simplicity of his style in talking to children.

"MURFREESBORO', TENN., March 6, 1863.

"DEAR CHILDREN OF MY SABBATH SCHOOL:

"It has been a long time since we met last, but I have not forgotten you. I have tried many times to say a few words to you on paper, but have had no time.

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"My Father in heaven has kept me safely all this time, though many that were near me are cold in death. I love to think that the same loving eye which sees you now in Sabbatlı

school is beaming on me here in my little cloth house. It is spring here; the birds have been singing for more than a month; the grass is green, and the buds on the trees are starting, indeed, yesterday I saw a number of flowers blooming near our camp. Our camp is in what was once a beautiful garden, but you would hardly call it a garden now. The pretty fence was burnt up long ago, to cook our meat and coffee with; the nice barn has gone the same way; the fruit-trees, too, are gone, for the horses gnawed off the bark, then we cut them down for wood.

"Children, war is a very bad thing. You know there was a great battle here some time ago there was a splendid house, with a beautiful garden and front-yard and shade-trees. Oh, it looked like such a pleasant home, just such as you would like; but it was in the way of the cannon-shot, so all the fine trees, the fence and the house must be torn down. There was a large orchard too, that had to go; down in one corner of the garden were three or four graves, where the fond mother used to sit and weep because her dear little children lay there cold in death. She had a marble monument there; but a cannon-ball struck it, and shivered it to pieces. Afterward, when I passed over the ground, and saw every thing destroyed, I said