ory, to a camp where, by hard foraging, at about one o'clock,
P. M., we secured our breakfast of bread, apple butter and
meat--_real meat_, and never did breakfast taste so good in all this
world.

It was well known by this time, that while we were stuck in the mud on the
glorious Fourth, the rebels had retreated from Gettysburg, and were now
endeavoring to escape through the mountain passes, and we were reluctantly
compelled to abandon the hopes that had been entertained of earning
immortal glory, by coming in at the eleventh hour to turn their defeat
into a rout. It is evident to every one that it would have made an
immense difference in the result of the contest, if our division of fresh
troops, eight or ten thousand strong, could have been precipitated upon
the flank of the rebel army, exhausted as they were by three days'
fighting. But it was not to be; and therefore, turning away from
Gettysburg, we bent our energies to prevent the rebels from securing the
mountain passes. Marching hastily to one gap we would hold it, until the
information that the rebels were going to another would cause a forced
march for that. What would have taken place, if we had happened to strike
a gap, just as half of Lee's army had got through, is a thing which we did
not think about at the time, but which we now see would have been rather
unpleasant.

I will not enter upon the monotonous recital of the dreary marches that
were performed in the three times in which we crossed the mountains, of
the incessant rains, the horrible roads, the want of food! One meal a day
was our usual allowance, and this generally consisted of bread (at a
dollar a loaf), and apple butter. If we could get meat once in three days
we accounted ourselves fortunate, and then the animal was driven into
camp, shot, cut up, cooked and eaten in less time than it takes to write
about it; and such meat, generally eaten without salt, was not very
nourishing. Money was offered freely enough, but partly from the poorness
of the country and partly from the ravages of the rebels, food could not
be obtained. In this misery all the militia, whether New-Yorkers or
Pennsylvanians, were common sufferers.

On the 6th day of July, we marched till late at night, expecting to cut
off the rebel wagon-train at Newman's Gap. It was as dark as Erebus, but
the numerous lights, and the sounds that were heard as we approached,
convinced all that the movement had been successful, perhaps a