At 8 o'clock we stopped for breakfast, munching our hard-tack and drinking our coffee with the relish which a march is wont to confer. During the day we crossed the Monocacy River, passing through Licksville, a small settlement on its left bank. In the afternoon some one blundered and sent the brigade off two miles on the wrong road. In attempting to make up for this loss the troops became scattered for miles along the road, and two or three of our horses dropped in their traces. At night, however, all came together again, and, thoroughly weary, we went into camp at a place called Petersville. As a drizzling rain had set in we pitched our tarpaulins for the first time with the aid of rails. This day we marched little, if any, less than twenty miles. We recall the fact that our spirits were not a little cheered by the abundance of cherries along the line of march, to which we helped ourselves with our accustomed liberality, and this, too, with little compunction, as they generally grew by the roadside and seemed to be county property.
Morning of Friday, June 26, broke wet and dripping, but we early resumed our march, and toiling on over a rocky road traversed by bullies rushing with water, at 9 o'clock entered the mountain region and the magnificent scenery of Harper's Ferry. Passing on through the dirty, desolate little settlements of Knoxville, Weverton and Sandy Hook, and following the narrow road in its winding, with the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal on one side and the perpendicular rocks of Maryland Heights on the other, we came at last opposite the historic town of Harper's Ferry. Set as it is in one of the angles formed