The Log of the Empire State

and "assembly" for the regiment; mounted orderlies are galloping along the hillside with great yellow envelopes stuck in their belts; and the men fall out of their miserable winter-quarters, wit

know, nor even the colonel,-nobody knows. We are raw troops yet, a

r-boys beat gayly enough "The Girl I left behind me," as the line swee

wn up by the enemy, and small dark specks moving about along the field, in the far, dim distance, which we know to be officers, or perhaps cavalry pickets. We can see, too

drum-head in lead pencil, in that stretch of meadow by t

annock River

and are just going into battle. I am wel

ar

fray; but as the day wears on without further developments, arms are stacked, and we begin to roam about the hills. Some are writing letters home, some sleeping, some even fishing in a little rivulet that runs by us, when, toward three o'clock in the afternoon, and all of a sudden, the enemy opens fire on us with a salute of three shells

nd of that peculiar whirring sound made by the pieces after the shell has burst overhead or by your side. So loud, high-pitched, shrill

t there by the river! For up to that time I had had a very poor, old-fashioned idea of wh

shell burst and killed a dozen men or so; that is, if some venturesome fellow didn't run up and stamp the fire off the fuse before the miserable thing went off! Of a conical shell, shaped like a minie-ball, with ridges o

fuse, but which, on raising my head and looking up and around, I find is the sound of pieces of exploded shells flying through the air about our heads! The enemy has excellent range of us, and gives it to

soon done; and there, seated on a bank about twenty feet high, with our backs to the enemy, we let t

beautiful drill of the artillery in action, steady and regular as the stroke of machinery! How swiftly the man that handles the swab has prepared his piece, while the runners have meanwhile brought up the little red bag of powder and the long conical shell from the caisson in the rear! How swiftly they are rammed home! The lieutenant sights hi

t is all the more exciting that we can see the beautiful drill of the batteries beside us, with that steady swabbing a

are you tr

ay dismounts an

officer, and is greatly beloved by the boys. He rides his horse beautifully, and is said to be one of the finest artillerists

a shell through that stone barn over

e shell goes crashing through the barn a mile and a half away, and the sharpshooters come pouring out of it like be

wenty yards away from us is another high bank, corresponding exactly with the one we are occupying, and

rst shell. And there, crouching in the narrow recess of the rock, we can see him shivering with affright. Every now and then, when there is a lull in the firing, he comes to the wide-open door of his house, intent upo

ed by the laughter and shouts of the regiment, for which he cares far less, however, than for that terrible shriek in the

ht we are to cross the pontoons and charge the enemy's works; but we sleep soundly all

s us a morning salute, and the shell comes ricochetting over the hill and tumbles into a mud-puddle about which the group is gathered; the mounted officers crouch in their saddles and spur hastily away, the foot offi

cups, and the regular flop, flop of cartridge-boxes and bayonet-scabbards, pursued for two miles by the hot fire