s by far the most civilized-looking town we
had then seen in Virginia. But, alas! what a change had come over its
once happy populace. When we entered it, not a dozen inhabitants were
left. We were told that Phillippi was the head-quarters of rebellion in
Western Virginia. Here was published the Barbour County _Jeffersonian_,
a rabid secession newspaper, now no more, for the press was demolished,
and the types thrown into a well. The editor had joined the rebel army a
few days before our arrival, and was among the loudest denunciators of
our government. He boasted he would shed the last drop of his blood (he
was very careful as to shedding the first) before he would retreat one
inch before the _Abolitionists_. We afterwards learned from some of his
men that he was among the first to mount his horse and run to the
mountains; the last that was seen of him he was going at lightning speed
toward Richmond, and in all probability _il court encore_,--he is
running yet.

We had taken possession of the town and most of the enemy's baggage and
equipments; still our commanding officer was not satisfied, neither were
the men. We had intended to completely surround the enemy and to cut off
every possible chance of his retreat. The attack was to have been made
at five o'clock, A.M.; but one column, that which marched from Grafton,
was about twenty minutes too late, and when at last it did make its
appearance, it entered town by the wrong road, having been misled by the
guide. The consequence was, the enemy retreated on the Beverley road,
where they met with little or no resistance. Our men were too much
fatigued to follow the fast-fleeing traitors, and most of them made good
their escape.

After the excitement of the attack, the men dropped down wherever they
stood, in the streets, in the fields, or in the woods, and slept soundly
until noon, the rain continuing to fall in torrents. But what was that
to men worn out with marching? I never slept better than when lying in a
newly-plowed corn-field, with the mud over my ankles, the rain pelting
me in the face, and not a blanket to cover me.

_Bang! bang! bang!_ and up I jumped from my bed of mud, thinking the
fight had again commenced. Somewhat bewildered, I rubbed the 'sacred
soil' from my eyes and looked about me. It was noon; the rain had
ceased, and from the constant sound of musketry, I supposed a battle was
then raging. But instead of fighting the 'secesh,' I soon found the
Ind