The bugle summoned us forth at 4 o'clock the next morning, when we immediately rolled up our bundles, struck tents, fed and hitched in the horses, and stood in readiness awaiting dawn. But with it came rain, and at 7 o'clock we received orders not to start, so we held the position until about 1 o'clock, when orders came to ‘unhitch and unharness.’ Two batteries that had left returned to camp. We now sought to make ourselves comfortable once more in our old quarters,—no easy matter in their drenched condition,—and then again, having once bade them adieu, there was an indefinable something which tended to repel us from them afterwards. A new camping ground would have been much more welcome. In this particular case the belief that it was a question of but a very short time before we must leave them for good, gave force to our repugnance.
We were not long permitted, however, to philosophize upon the question, or required to consider the comforts or miseries of our situation, for at half-past 3 in the morning of Thursday, November 26th, Thanksgiving day, we once more received the bugle summons announcing another movement about to be undertaken. The morning broke clear and cool. ‘Attention, Battery!’ was heard at 7 o'clock! ‘Drivers, mount!’ followed at once by the familiar command, ‘By piece from the right — front into column,’
