on our center. They might as well charge on the big fort at Fortress Monroe as to try to break our lines at Malvern Hill. The enemy retire and bring every available man they can spare from other parts of their lines, and form for their last charge. Meanwhile our noble chief is not idle, for every piece of artillery is being brought to the front. The big siege guns are all ready, and every one now is on the lookout for what is to come next-the great charge of the whole campaign on the peninsula. At about 5 o'clock the enemy is seen to emerge from the cover of the woods. They cross the open field seven or eight lines deep. They commence their horrible yells, thinking they can frighten us some-but we don't scare worth a cent, for we all feel confident that our lines are impregnable. They are close up to our lines, and five hundred guns belch forth their missles of death into their ranks. They falter, but are urged on by the imprecations and threats of their officers. Our infantry pour their deadly bullets into them. The bravest men in the world cannot stand against such fire, and they fall back for shelter in their friendly woods to mourn over and count their great losses, and leave us to fall back at leisure to our base of supplies, at Harrison's Landing. Part of the army commence to fall back after night sets in, and about 3 o'clock we leave the bloody field of Malvern Hill behind, amid a rainstorm, and in a short time it pours down, making the roads very bad to pass over. "How far is it to Harrison's Landing?" we ask of an old inhabitant whom we pass. He answers: "Indeed sah, I don't know, but it is a right smart ways, I reckon," and before we got there we found it was. We are put through on a forced march, and the number of stragglers is fearful. When we arrived at Harrison's Landing there were about enough that kept up to make a Corporal's guard. A great many fell out by the roadside and never rose again. Arrived at the Landing, we try to cook our favorite beverage, coffee, but the rain would put the fire out as fast as we could build it. At last we hold our old clothes over the fire, and think we are going to have our coffee sure, when we hear a tremenduous cheering up the road, and coffee is soon forgotten. Running out to see what is up, a horseman is seen riding along the road followed by two cavalrymen. We see that it is our gallant Little Mac., the hats and caps commence to fly in the air, and men cheer as though they were crazy. The General, commanding his own army of the Potomac, acknowledges with graceful waves of the hand, assures us we are all right now, and passes on, leaving us to go back and attend to our coffee, which we find tipped over in the smouldering chips. Again dipping some water out of the ditch and rebuilding the fire, we cook and drink our coffee, eat our hard-tack, smoke our pipes, and feel happy, but not very long, for the enemy open up their long range guns at us, and send some shells among the masses of soldiers in the fields. We hear some cheering in the direction of the Landing, and soon find out the cause. It is a fresh Division from the Shenandoah Valley under the immortal Shields. They pass by us on a quick march and keep on to the front. They walk around our tormentors, capture their artillery and all the force that supported them, bringing them back in triumph amidst the cheers of the old army of the Potomac, thus ending the seven days' fight on the Peninsula. I will say here that the soldiers in the army of the Poto mac loved their brave commander with such a love that a Napoleon would envy, for every one feels confident that no other man living could take the army out of such an ordeal as occurred on the last seven days. Fight every day, and march every night, whipping the enemy in almost every battle, and that, too, against heavy odds. No good soldier ever fought under the gallant General Geerge B. McClellan but will always recollect him with the greatest pride, and sympathize with him in the hours of his affliction. CHAPTER XVI. WE GO INTO CAMP-FOURTH OF JULY, 1862-BATALLION DRILL, ETC-CAMP LIFE-ORDERS TO MARCH DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. On the Fourth of July, 1862, we go into camp and make ourselves as comfortable as we can. We have a good base of supplies. The army is encamped upon the banks of the James River, and we get supplies by that way. Our sutlers return, and everything goes well. Camp life here is very hard, the weather being very hot, and we drill a great deal. In the morning at 5 o'clock we are awakened by the reveille; get up and answer the roll-call; then form for squad drill; then breakfast, after which is company drill; come in and rest for awhile, and then the whole regiment goes out for batallion drill; next dinner; next brigade drill; next division drill, and we all think if the fields were only large enough, we would have a corps and army drill. One year ago to-day we celebrated our Fourth of July in Washington. What hardships we have endured in the one single year just gone by! Then we felt jubilant and confident, but to-day we feel depressed in spirits after our late disastrous campaigns. Oh, whoever are to blame for the sacrifice of our brave commander and his glorious old army, may the curse of thousands of widows and orphans fall on their heads. For the war is prolonged now to an indefinite time, in which there will be thousands of lives sacrificed to satisfy the appetites of wicked and designing men. Here we have the same routine of camp life as in all other camps-guard mount, guard duty, picket duty, and fatigue duty. Hundreds are getting sick every day, and if we stay here in this hot hole much longer there will not be much of the army left fit for service. Our drilling is very hard, and we would much rather be excused from so much of it, at least. There are rumors that Lee's army is getting off to destroy Pope's army in the valley and unless the army of the Potomac go to his rescue, his will be destroyed. So the sutlers are ordered to the rear and the sick are sent on transports to Washington. I must mention in these pages Anna Etheridge, the heroine and daughter of our regiment. The world never produced but very few such women, for she is along with us through storm and sunshine, in the heat of the battle caring for the wounded, and in the camp looking after the poor sick soldier, and to have a smile and a cheering word for every one who comes in her way. Every soldier is alike to her. She is with us to administer to all our little wants, which are not few. To praise her would not be enough, but suffice to say, that as long as one of the old Third shall live, she will always be held in the greatest esteem, and remembered with kindly feelings for her goodness and virtues. Orders come to pack up and be ready to march at a moments notice, which we do, and are glad to go anywhere out of our hot and dirty camp. CHAPTER XVII. OUR BACKWARD MOVE-FAMILIAR GROUND-A HOT AND DUSTY MARCH-BACK TO WILLIAMSBURG AND INGTON AGAIN. About the first of August we commence our backward march on the Peninsula. The marching is very disagreeable on account of the severely warm weather and dusty roads. Water is very scarce along the route, and there is much suffering from the want of it. When we camp nights, if there are any nice springs around, there is soon a guard put over them, and, of course, it is reserved for the officers. Like a certain tree at the battle of Fair Oaks. In the heat of battle a certain officer, well known to us all, took a position behind a huge pine. A couple of soldiers thought they would like to take shelter there too. But the gallant Captain drew his sword and told them to be gone, for this tree is reserved for the officers, and none others. Of course, the poor soldiers give way, for they dare not disobey the order of an officer, even if he was a coward, for he would be courtmartialed, his pay stopped, be made to march in camp with a stick on his shoulder, or be bucked and gagged and forty pails of water thrown on his |