al
Crook. Our cavalry consisted of Averill's force which had been in the
valley, and we were now receiving two divisions from the Army of the
Potomac, one in command of General Torbert, the other of General Wilson.
The cavalry force was soon afterward organized, with General Torbert in
command of the whole force, and Generals Custer, Averill and Merritt,
each in command of a division.

On the tenth of the month we commenced our march up the Shenandoah
Valley. No sooner had the sun made its appearance above the Blue Ridge
than we found the day to be most intensely hot. Soldiers were falling
along the roadside in great numbers overcome with the heat, and what
added to the hardships of the day's journey was the want of water. The
turnpike along which we marched was parallel with a fine stream of water
on either side, but the water was so far distant as to be useless to the
soldiers. Yet there were a few springs and wells at some distance from
the road which supplied those who could leave the column.

We passed through Charlestown, the scene of the trial and execution of
John Brown. There was the court house to which he was brought on his
couch to receive his trial for treason, and there the jail in which he
spent his last days, and from which he was led to execution. How had all
things changed! The people who stood about the gallows of John Brown,
and gnashed their teeth in their bitter hatred, were now themselves
guilty of treason. The court house was in ruins, and the jail was but a
shell of tottering walls. The town also had suffered fearful ravages
from war, and now a Union army was marching through its streets, every
band and every drum corps playing the stirring but to southern ears
hateful air, "John Brown's body lies mouldering in the grave," and we
may anticipate our narrative to say that whenever our army or any part
of it had occasion to pass through this town, the bands always struck up
this air, as if to taunt the inhabitants with the memory of their
victim, and played it from one limit of the town to the other. So John
Brown was revenged!

The Shenandoah Valley has been often called the "Garden of Virginia,"
and truly it is a lovely valley, yet as we marched along we could see
but little cultivation. The groves of oak were delightful. Teams with
wagons might be driven anywhere among them. But the fields were mostly
desolate. Here and there a field of corn promised a medium crop if left
to ripen untrodden b