through the tents as if they had been made of paper, and streams of water like little rivulets poured underneath, wetting our blankets and everything else. Some were entirely drowned out and emerged “to stand the storm,” looking like so many soaked rats. We were more fortunate than many, in having our tent pretty well drained, but were, nevertheless, thoroughly watered. After the rain had somewhat slackened, we endeavored to arrange things as comfortably as possible, but about dark we were informed that we would leave for Harrisburg before morning, so there was no sleeping to be done that night. The men were in excellent spirits, with the prospect of, going home, and gathering together all the brush, fence rails, logs and wood of any kind that could be found near, they made a bonfire of them and kept it burning until we marched. The Captain had a few potatoes in his tent, which were brought out and some of them eaten, while the remainder were used for throwing at each other's heads for amusement. We took down our tent and dried it with the blankets by the fire, and packed them up in our knapsacks in order to be in readiness when the Colonel's whistle should be heard. While waiting, a mail arrived, which contained for me two copies of the “Phoenix” and a letter from Lloyd in answer to one I had written to him a few days before. About two o'clock the sound of a whistle rang through the wood, and with a shout we “fell in” and were soon on the road. It was still raining, exceedingly dark, and as we went sometimes on the pike and then in the fields, we had a regular time of it slipping into mud puddles and scrambling over fence rails, before we reached Chambersburg. We were then packed in dirty freight cars, forty in each, so that in sitting down, our legs had to be intertwined, and at four o'clock moved slowly away. It was
