that Old Jack was having every rabbit track and
rail fence put down on paper. "Poor old Valley! won't she have a
scouring!"

The sole question was, when would the operations begin. The "foot
cavalry" grew tired of verdant meads, June flowers, and warbling birds.
True, there were clear streams and Mr. Commissary Banks's soap, and the
clothes got gloriously washed! Uniforms, too, got cleaned and patched.
"Going calling. Must make a show!" and shoes were cobbled. (Cartridge
boxes surreptitiously cut to pieces for this.) Morning drills occurred
of course, and camp duties and divine services; but for all these
diversions the army wearied of Mt. Meridian, and wanted to march. Twenty
miles a day--twenty-five--even thirty if Old Jack put a point on it! The
foot cavalry drew the line at thirty-five. It had tried this once, and
once was enough! In small clasped diaries, the front leaves given over
to a calendar, a table of weights and measures, a few 1850 census
returns, and the list of presidents of the United States, stopping at
James Buchanan, the army recorded that nothing of interest happened at
Mt. Meridian and that the boys were tired of loafing.

"How long were they going to stay?" The men pestered the company
officers, the company asked the regimental, field asked staff, staff
shook its head and had no idea, a brigadier put the question to
Major-General Ewell and Old Dick made a statement which reached the
drummer boys that evening. "We are resting here for just a few days
until all the reinforcements are in, and then we will proceed to beat up
Banks's quarters again about Strasburg and Winchester."

On the morning of the seventeenth there was read a general order. "_Camp
to be more strictly policed. Regimental and brigade drill ordered.
Bridge to be constructed across the Shenandoah. Chapel to be erected.
Day of fasting and prayer for the success of our arms on the
Mississippi._"--"Why, we are going to stay here forever!" The regimental
commanders, walking away from drill, each found himself summoned to the
presence of his brigadier. "Good-morning, colonel! Just received this
order. 'Cook two days' rations and pack your wagons. Do it quietly.'"

By evening the troops were in motion, Ewell's leading brigade standing
under arms upon a country road, the red sunset thrown back from every
musket barrel. The brigadier approached Old Dick where he sat Rifle
beneath a locust tree. "Might I be told in which direction, sir--"