ve always believed that
Meade acted on the prudent policy of making a bridge of gold for a
retreating enemy; and I always believed, too, that at heart he did not at
all desire to inflict extreme suffering on the foe. Had he been a
General Birney, he would have smote them then and there hip and thigh,
and so ended the war "for good and all," like a Cromwell, with such a
slaughter as was never seen. I base all this on one fact. At two
o'clock on the afternoon before that night I went to a farmhouse to
borrow an axe wherewith to cut some fuel; and I was told that the rebels
had carried away every axe in great haste from every house, in order to
make a bridge. Now, if I knew that at two o'clock, General Meade, if he
had any scouts at all, _must_ have known it. But--_qui vult decipi_,
_decipiatur_.

That ended the Emergency. The next day, I think, we received the welcome
news that we were no longer needed and would soon be sent home. On the
way we encamped for a week at some place, I forget where. There was no
drill now--we seldom had any--no special care of us, and no "policing" or
keeping clean. Symptoms of typhoid fever soon appeared; forty of our
hundred were more or less ill. My brother and I knew very well that the
only way to avert this was to exercise vigorously. On waking in the
morning we all experienced languor and lassitude. Those who yielded to
it fell ill. Henry was always so ready to work, that once our sergeant,
Mr. Bullard, interposed and gave the duty to another, saying it was not
fair. I always remembered it with gratitude. But this feverish languor
passed away at once with a little chopping of wood, bringing water, or
cooking.

One more reminiscence. Our lieutenant, Perkins, was a pious man, and on
Sunday mornings held religious service, which we were obliged to attend.
One day, when we had by good fortune rations of fresh meat, it was cooked
for dinner and put by in two large kettles. During the service two
hungry pigs came, and in our full sight overturned the kettles, and,
after rooting over the food, escaped with large pieces. I did not care
to dine, like St. Antonio, on pigs' leavings. My brother finding me,
asked why I looked so glum. I replied that I was hungry. "Is that all?"
he replied. "Come with me!" We went some distance until we came to a
farmhouse in the forest. He entered, and, to my amazement, was greeted
as an old friend. He had been there in the campaign of the