r scattered
graves, they were placed together in a little inclosure on the sunny
slope in front of the fort, and a beautiful monument tells the story of
their noble sacrifice.

CHAPTER XXIX.

THE SHENANDOAH VALLEY.

The Sixth and Nineteenth corps follow the enemy--Crossing the
Potomac--Averill's fight at Snicker's Gap--Return of the Sixth
corps to Washington--March back to Harper's Ferry--Return to
Maryland--Death of Major Ellis--General Sheridan assigned to
command--Back in the Valley--Charlestown--John Mosher--March to
Fisher Hill--Return to Charlestown--Fight at Charlestown.

At one o'clock the column of the Sixth corps moved away from Fort
Stevens, marching through the little village of Tanleytown, following in
pursuit of the rebels. We moved rapidly till ten o'clock, then halted,
much fatigued, at Potomac Cross Roads. At five o'clock, next morning, we
were once more on our way, and after a march of twelve hours through a
pleasant country, we made our bivouac at Poolsville, having marched
thirty-six miles since leaving Fort Stevens. Our Sixth corps, with the
two divisions of the Nineteenth corps, now constituted a new army, under
command of General Wright, General Getty having command of the Sixth
corps. At Poolsville we lay all day, waiting for our small cavalry force
to find out the course which Early's army had taken, but on Saturday
morning, the 16th, we were moving at daylight. We marched toward the
Potomac, which we forded near the scene of Ball's Bluff slaughter. The
spectacle at the ford was novel and exciting. The stream was wide, but
not more than two or three feet deep. The bottom was rough and stony,
and the current was strong. For nearly a mile up and down the river the
brigades were crossing; the stream filled with infantry wading with
difficult steps over the uneven bottom, mounted officers carefully
guiding their horses lest they should stumble, trains of artillery and
wagons slowly toiling through, and groups of pack animals scarcely able
to keep their footing under their huge burdens. The laugh of hundreds
sounded up and down the river, as some unfortunate footman, slipping
from a smooth stone, would, for a moment, disappear beneath the surface
of the river, or as some overloaded mule or pack horse, losing his
footing, would precipitate his load, and peradventure the small negro
boy, who, in order to secure a dry passage across the ford, had perched
himself on t