officers, for the late battles had dealt hardly with us, and I was ordered to take command of the outposts. I marched with the right wing of the regiment a hundred rods up the road, whence we deviated into the middle of a large field. "Here leave a company for reserve," said the officer whom I relieved. I did so, and then, hoping to become immediately familiar with the ground, I accompanied the other four to the picket line, which I traversed from end to end, a distance of rather more than a mile, and was quite glad to find my way back to the reserve in the dark, after being made the subject of suspicion by the vigilance of every sentinel.
I wrapped my poncho about me, and reclined before some smouldering embers. Little or nothing could be judged of our position; nothing could be seen more than the occasional glow of a distant fire from the long line, or a gleam of light from the town. Of a sudden, a burst of instrumental music came to my ears, and the familiar strains of "Dixie," played by a full band, came across the river. It was, I presume, the headquarters band of one of the Confederate generals, on their extreme right, and, though I then judged it to be very near, and sent out immediately to warn the pickets to increased vigilance, it was in reality more than a mile distant. Certain conditions of the atmosphere of a still night are surprisingly favorable to the transmission of sound, of which truth this was a striking example. After "Dixie," we were regaled with "Bonny Eloise," and then, wonderful to relate, with "John Brown," and "Yankee Doodle." The two last raised serious doubts within me, for the moment, as to which side this music came from; but there could be no real doubt. It was a Confederate band, playing within the Confederate lines, although it seemed decidedly unique to hear the old air of "John Brown" from such a source.
When daylight came our position was at once made clear. Straight in front of us was the stalwart Massanutten, his gigantic bastion rising frowningly above our heads, hardly a rifle-shot away. The river ran at his base; our picket line was posted obliquely to it, covering the left flank of the corps, with our backs to Strasburg. A stretch of meadow land lay between us and the river; across it were scattered houses, and the land beyond gradually ridged up to the mountains. There was no reveille along our extended line, nor was there note or sign of attack. I visited the outposts during the morning, and repeated orders and cautions; and the day wore away till noon without change or excitement.
Not without incident, however; during the morning there was a misadventure among us, which I recollect as the most ludicrous among all my experiences. A vagrant soldier, one of the class of
