buckets and tubs and gave water to those who wanted it. It was very thoughtful and I know their kindness was appreciated. The custom in marching is to keep in ranks and step through the towns, but in the open roads the command is given “route step, arms at will,” and each one is at liberty to walk as best suits his convenience.
Our next stopping place was a small village called Greenville. Here, while sitting by the roadside, two little boys, scarcely old enough to wear breeches, came along asking the men for their canteens in order to fill them. I was pleased with the idea of children coming on such an errand, and when one of then approached me, wishing to hear him talk, I inquired whether he had seen the rebels. “Yes,” he said, “they were naughty men; they took my little dog,” and in sorrowful accents he told me further that his dog was black and had a white spot on his tail. A large flag was hung across the road and each company as it passed underneath cheered lustily for the stars and stripes. It was nearly dark when we reached Chambersburg, after a march of some twelve miles during the afternoon. There was a large army of militia encamped in that neighborhood, comprising, I suppose, many thousands, though I am unable to form any definite idea as to the exact number. Apparently there was some hesitation and doubt as to where we were to go, but finally we were taken to a clover field on the right side of the pike, belonging to Col. A. K. McClure, and there stacked arms. From the aspect of the clouds, we were apprehensive of rain before morning, but as the facilities for putting up tents were exceedingly slim, we spread our blankets upon the ground and went to sleep, trusting the weather to fortune. Upon that occasion the fickle goddess favored us and we remained dry.
(Monday, July 13th.) Doc. Nyce and I went to a house
