he taken every spear of grass
about the soldier that when he got up he left a perfect outline of his
body on the field.

On another occasion, when en route for Gettysburg, we had halted for a
rest at Delaplane, Va. Having no food for our horses we were ordered to
turn them loose in the fields to graze. It was 10 o'clock at night. We
unbridled and unsaddled our steeds and let them go free. This was in
June, and the clover was fine. The hungry animals went briskly to work
satisfying their hunger. The grinding of their many jaws sounded like
the muffled roar of a distant cataract, and this was the music that
lulled the weary men to sleep as they lay scattered over the fields,
without any fear of being hurt or trodden upon. But suppose Kilpatrick
had suddenly appeared upon the scene and had thrown a few shells into
those fields? What would have been the result? You can trust a horse so
far and no farther. A field full of unbridled and frightened horses
might have brought death and destruction, and swept Stuart's cavalrymen
from the face of the earth. But no such fatality occurred. About 2
o'clock in the morning the bugle sounded "saddle up," and although it
was quite dark, in an incredibly short time every man was mounted on
his own horse and on the march.

There were times when the cavalry would march all night. The men soon
learned to sleep on horseback, or you might call it nodding, but some
went sound asleep sitting upright on their horses. Occasionally, when a
soldier was caught fast asleep, his comrade would slip the rein out of
his hand and lead his horse to a fence corner and hitch it. The sudden
stopping would awaken him, for he would at once begin to fall. Catching
himself, he would look around in amazement, and if the night were dark,
he had no little difficulty finding his place in the ranks.

Little episodes similar to this would help to while away the weary hours
of the night. Then there was always some wit or wag, who, at intervals
of an hour or so, would arouse the whole line with some ridiculous
outburst. A dark and stormy night always called for something
extraordinary in this line in order to keep the men in good cheer.
After, say an hour of silence, during which time not a sound could be
heard save the clatter of the horses' feet, the rattle of the soldiers'
armor and the splatter of the rain, when suddenly someone with the
voice of a foghorn would rouse up and yell out, "I want to go h-o-m-e,
and I