reakfast that
two men of Reynold's brigade had died during the night, from fatigue and
exposure. He advised me to push forward to Washington and await the
arrival of the division, as, unused to the hardships of a march, I
might, after another day's experience, become dangerously ill. I set
out at five o'clock, resolving to ford the creek, resume the turnpike,
and reach Long Bridge at noon. Passing over some dozen fields in which
my horse at every step sank to the fetlocks, I travelled along the brink
of the stream till I finally reached a place that seemed to be shallow.
Bracing myself firmly in the saddle, I urged my unwilling horse into the
waters, and emerged half drowned on the other side. It happened,
however, that I had crossed only a branch of the creek and gained an
island. The main channel was yet to be attempted, and I saw that it was
deep, broad, and violent. I followed the margin despairingly for a
half-mile, when I came to a log footbridge, where I dismounted and swam
my horse through the turbulent waters. I had now so far diverged from
the turnpike that I was at a loss to recover it, but straying forlornly
through the woods, struck a wagon track at last, and pursued it
hopefully, until, to my confusion, it resolved itself to two tracks,
that went in contrary directions. My horse preferred taking to the left,
but after riding a full hour, I came to some felled trees, beyond which
the traces did not go. Returning, weak and bewildered, I adopted the
discarded route, which led me to a worm-fence at the edge of the woods.
A house lay some distance off, but a wheat-field intervened, and I might
bring the vengeance of the proprietor upon me by invading his domain.
There was no choice, however; so I removed the rails, and rode directly
across the wheat to some negro quarters, a little removed from the
mansion. They were deserted, all save one, where a black boy was singing
some negro hymns in an uproarious manner. The words, as I made them out,
were these:--

"Stephen came a runnin',
His Marster fur to see;
But Gabriel says he is not yar';
He gone to Calvary!
O,--O,--Stephen, Stephen,
Fur to see;
Stephen, Stephen, get along up Calvary!"

I learned from this person two mortifying facts,--that I was farther
from Washington than at the beginning of my journey, and that the morrow
was Sunday. War, alas! knows no Sabbaths, and the negro said,
apologetically--