, near Stanardsville, lay Ewell and his
eight thousand. The encampment occupied low and flat ground, through
which ran a swollen creek. The spring had been on the whole inclement,
and now, with suddenness, winter came back for a final word. One day
there was a whirl of snow, another was cold and harsh, on the third
there set in a chilly rain. It rained and rained, and all the mountain
streams came down in torrents and still further swelled the turbid
creek. One night, about halfway through their stay, the creek came out
of its banks and flooded the surrounding land. All tents, huts, and
shelters of boughs for a hundred feet each side acquired a liquid
flooring. There arose an outcry on the midnight air. Wet and cursing,
half naked and all a-shiver, men disentangled themselves from their
soaked blankets, snatched up clothing and accoutrements, and splashed
through a foot of icy water to slightly dryer quarters on the rising
ground.

Snow, rain, freeze, thaw, impatience, listlessness, rabid conjecture,
apathetic acquiescence, quarrels, makeups, discomfort, ennui, a deal of
swearing (carefully suppressed around headquarters), drill whenever
practicable, two Sunday services and one prayer meeting!--the last week
of April 1862 in Elk Run Valley was one to be forgotten without a pang.
There was an old barn which the artillery had seized upon, that leaked
like a sieve, and there was a deserted tannery that still filled the air
with an evil odour, and there was change of pickets, and there were
rain-sodden couriers to be observed coming and going (never anything to
be gotten out of them), and there were the mountains hung with grey
clouds. The wood was always wet and would not burn. Coffee was so low
that it was served only every other day, besides being half chicory, and
the commissary had been cheated into getting a lot of poor tobacco. The
guardhouse accommodated more men than usual. A squad of Ashby's brought
in five deserters, all found on the backward road to the Valley. One
said that he was sick and that his mother had always nursed him; another
that he was only going to see that the Yankees hadn't touched the farm,
and meant to come right back; another that the war was over, anyhow;
another that he had had a bad dream and couldn't rest until he saw that
his wife was alive; the fifth that he was tired of living; and the sixth
said nothing at all. Jackson had the six put in irons, and it was
thought that after the court m