none others. No pen can describe it. We can never forget our triumphal trip-how proud we felt as we passed the cities and towns of our own Michigan. At every station we are met with the wildest enthusiasm. The people of Lowell bid us God speed; the gallant little city of Ionia has everything ready to fill up the inner man and our train starts off amid wild huzzas. At St. Johns the firemen are drawn up and give us three times three, which we return with a will. Owosso greets us with the same welcome. Dashing past Corunna and Gaines, the iron horse takes a drink at Holly and after an hour's ride the lovely city of Pontiac is reached. The whole town turns out and gives us a substantial greeting. Men and women, boys and girls, carry baskets filled with all the good things that can be found at any time in Pontiac-hot coffee, cakes, oranges, lemons, apples, etc. The soldiers of the Third will keep the people of this city always fresh in memory. Nothing was talked about for a long while but the perfect ovation received there. The iron horse is impatient, and off we start amid the cheers of the multitude, who came from far and near in old Oakland County to bid God speed to the first regiment that passed through to the front. An hour's ride brings us to the City of the Straits, where we are well entertained for a few hours, and then we take the boat for Cleveland. Passing down the beautiful Detroit River, we are soon ploughing the lovely waters of Lake Erie. Will we ever ride upon its bosom again? is asked by many a hero, who, alas, never will, for they have met the grave of the patriot, and sleep in their long home in the South.

We arrive in Cleveland next morning, and the good people of the Forest City have everything ready for a good breakfast, and off we start again for the smoky city of Pittsburgh. The patriotic people of the Buckeye State meet us at every station, and have good things for us to eat. Beautiful flowers are given us by the fair daughters of Ohio, which were kept as reminiscences of the fair donors. After a short stay and fine entertainment at Pittsburgh, we are all aboard again for the capital of the Key Stone State, where we arrive after passing the beautiful scenery of the

and are

Alleghanies. Here we receive some munitions of war, ready for the land of secession. We take the train for Baltimore, and there is a rumor that the engineer is a rebel, and means to tip us into the ditch. We have an engineer too, and our gallant Sutler, Ben Luce, mounts the engine and tells the rebel that if he plays us false he will be the first to suffer with his life. No accidents happen, however, and we arrive safe in the Monumental City on Sunday morning. We have to be on our guard now, for we are in the enemy's country, which was shown a few days before by the shedding of the blood of Massachusetts' patriot sons. We get out of our box cars, take in the situation, and draw up in line. Our noble Colonel, Dan McConnell, gave the order to prime our pieces, which gave the roughs who gathered around to understand that we were not to be trifled with. The order is given to get into platoons, for we have a march of about three miles to the Washington depot. Our Colonel says: "If a man in my regiment is hurt, the streets of Baltimore will run with blood." The order forward is given, our band strike up the tune of Dixie, and one thousand and forty men keep step to the music. The mob on the streets could tell by the steady tread of the soldiers and the watchfulness of their eyes that it would be useless to try the Sixth Massachusetts game on us. Arrived safe at the depot, we take the cars for Washington, where we arrive after a forty miles ride. The first object that meets the eye is the grand Capitol building, a worthy monument to this great Nation. We take up our line of march to Chain Bridge, distant about eighteen miles. The day is fearfully warm, and we suffer greatly on our march, not being used to marching under a southern sun. As we pass through Pennsylvania Avenue and Georgetown, we would give anything for a half hour's rest under the beautiful shade trees, but no, we must keep on if it kills us, and glad were we to halt at our future camp, and not yet accustomed to the fatigues of the soldier's life, our stragglers are numerous. We throw our

selves down on mother earth, on the banks of the beautiful and historic Potomac, to rest our weary limbs. Here Lieutenant Ryan, an old soldier, is ordered to lay out a camp, which he does, and we call it, after our Michigan War Governor, Camp Blair.

CHAPTER II.

FIRST NIGHT ON PICKET-A SCARE-GRAND ROUNDS-THE RELIEF PICKING CHERRIES A DANGEROUS ANIMAL.

I shall never forget my first night on picket. A detail is made from each company, and off we start for the outposts, a few miles from camp. There are two or three men on each post, and I am sure there will be a sharp lookout this night, as it is our first night on picket. One man keeps watch on each post, which are about ten or fifteen paces apart, while the others lie down to sleep. All is as still as the grave. Nothing is heard but the distant hoot of the owl or the chirp of the insects on the trees. What is the sentinel thinking of? Perhaps of the far off loved ones at home, or of his own position in an enemy's country. Probably some hidden rebel is not far from him, and in an instant his life may be taken by the lurking foe. How long is this war going to last, and will I live to get home again? is his reverie, which is cut short by the sharp report of a musket. He peers into the darkness, and thinks that the enemy is near. Every one is awakened, enquiring the cause of the noise, but the mystery is solved, for a soldier, while asleep, turned over on his side, kicked the hammer of his piece, firing it off and causing the scare. The soldiers sleep on, and dream of the loved ones left behind. All is still again. The hour of midnight approaches and with it a challenge is heard: Who goes there? A voice answers: Grand Rounds. The rounds advance, give the countersign. The Officer of the Day gives strict orders to keep a sharp lookout, and passes on from post to post, leaving the lonely picket to keep his watch. One of his comrades relieves him on his post and he lies down to sleep and awakens in the morning to hear the birds sing over his head. The relief comes, we start for camp, and end our first night on picket.

At this time it was common to make raids into Maryland to pick cherries that grew in abundance, and such other fruit as we could get. There is a field about three miles from camp with some nice trees, and thither we would go and eat our fill. One day, while up in a large tree eating away, we heard a loud, rumbling noise, like thunder. Looking down we saw a large bull beneath the tree, scraping the ground and bellowing fearfully. It was very likely he was anxious for us to come down and pay for the cherries we had eaten; but no, we stay up the tree and wait for his majesty's departure. Tired of waiting, he majestically walks away. We get down from the tree and leg it for the road. The bull gives chase and we fly ignominiously, for we would rather be excused from taking a horn, especially in that shape. I don't think there were any more cherries picked in that field, by any of our crowd at least.

CHAPTER III.

GUARD MOUNTING-FOURTHI OF JULYA SCENE IN THE NATIONAL CAPITOL-GETTING READY FOR OUR FIRST CAMPAIGN AND BATTLES.

Soldiers generally pride themselves upon appearing well on guard mount, for it is one of the nicest maneuverings in the service. A detail from each company is made by the Adjutant, and sent to the orderlies, who select men who have not been on guard recently. These form on their company ground, the band meanwhile forming on the parade ground and playing a lively tune as each detail marches on the ground in line, coming to an open order. When all are on the ground the band ceases playing. The Adjutant gives the order: Inspection-arms, at which the ramrods are sprung and let drop into the pieces. They are all inspected, during which the band plays some slow tune. The Adjutant takes his place in front of the guard, telling them to come to a shoulder arms. The next order is: "present arms." He turns on his heel and salutes with his sword the Officer of the Day, telling him the guard is formed. Next, "close order march;" after which the guard wheel into platoons and march past the Officer of the Day, coming to a shoulder arms. The latter acknowledges the salute by raising his head covering, and they pass on to relieve the old guard at the guard house.

The reliefs are told off into first, second and third. The first relieve the sentinels on guard, and stay on the beat two hours and get off four, and so on for the next twenty-four hours. After the old guard gets off he is at liberty these times to go where he pleases. Guard mount takes place in camp every morning, at half past eight.

Hurrah for the Fourth of July. I am going to Washington to see Congress open, which is called together by our beloved Presiident, Lincoln, to see what can be done under the present circum