The first company of the guard act as
advance-guard; then comes the General, followed by his staff, riding by
twos, according to rank; the other two companies of the guard come next.
The sharp-shooters accompany and protect the train. Our route lay through
a broken and heavily wooded region. The roads were very bad, but the day
was bright, and the march was a succession of beautiful pictures, of which
the long and brilliant line of horsemen winding through the forest was the
chief ornament.

We reached camp at three o'clock. It is a lovely spot, upon a hill-side,
with a clear, swift-running brook washing the foot of the hill. Presently
the horses are tied along the fences, riders are lounging under the trees,
the kitchen-fires are lighted, guardsmen are scattered along the banks of
the stream bathing, the wagons roll heavily over the prairie and are drawn
up along the edge of the wood, tents are raised, tent-furniture is hastily
arranged, and the camp looks as if it had been there a month. Before dark
a regiment of infantry and two batteries of artillery come up. The men
sleep in the open air without tents, and innumerable fires cover the
hill-sides.

We are upon land which is owned by an influential and wealthy citizen, who
is an open Secessionist in opinion, though he has had the prudence not to
take up arms. By way of a slight punishment, the General has annoyed the
old man by naming his farm "Camp Owen Lovejoy," a name which the Union
neighbors will not fail to make perpetual.

_California, October 8th._ This morning we broke camp at six o'clock and
marched at eight. The road was bad, for which the beauty of the scenery
did not entirely compensate. To-day's experience has taught us how
completely an army is tied to the wheels of the wagons. Tell a general how
fast the train can travel and he will know how long the journey will be.
We passed our wagons in a terrible plight: some upset, some with balky
mules, some stuck in the mud, and some broken down. The loud-swearing
drivers, and the stubborn, patient, hard-pulling mules did not fail to
vary and enliven the scene.

A journey of eighteen miles brought us to this place, where we are
encamped upon the county fair-ground. California is a mean, thriftless
village; there are no trees shading the cottages, no shrubbery in the
yards. The place is only two or three years old, but already wears a
slovenly air of decay.

I set out with Colonel L. upon a foraging expedi