The evening shadows fell slowly upon the camp; so slowly you could scarce tell when day ended and the night began. Supper was over, and the soldiers, lying at full length on the luxuriant grass, or sitting around in groups, were lazily resting or chatting, after the day’s long and dusty march. Thousands of smouldering camp-fires dotted the hillsides and valleys in every direction; the wide firmament, cloudless and peaceful, glittered with stars; and the air, mild and balmy, had in it that indefinable and delicate perfume which belongs alone to trodden pastures or to meadows freshly mown. All the noise and bustle of the day and evening gradually died away. The camp-guards paced their posts slowly and noiselessly; the hum of conversation was faint and low; the rude mirth of the soldiers was hushed; the jokes, and gibes, and laughter of the camp had faded into silence; and a peaceful calm, resembling that of a quiet Sabbath, had fallen like a benediction over all the scene. Save the stacks of burnished guns, from which the light of the camp-fires fitfully glinted, and the parked cannon, and the groups of uniformed men, the picture presented was as peaceful and calm as it had been before war swept into this pastoral paradise. But suddenly, from the edge of the woods across the intervening valley, half a mile away, a band began playing “Home, Sweet Home,” and as the touching chords of that familiar melody flooded all the camp, the hush grew deeper, and I know, though the darkness concealed their emotion, that moisture welled up in all eyes, and tender thoughts of far-away scenes filled all hearts in that great host of bronzed and stalwart men. For when the music at last ceased a silence so deep that it was almost oppressive succeeded; and then a mighty cheer, echoing and resounding for miles away, went up from 20,000 throats. Those who have heard the Union army hurrah know what it could do in that line, when it put its heart into its lungs and throat. When the cheer ended, another band, far down the valley, made the hillsides echo with the patriotic strains of the “Star-Spangled Banner,” and again followed the great shout of applause, like the mingling roar of many winds. Then from the hill-tops, far off to the west, was wafted the music, low and sweet, of “Annie Laurie,” and again the hush of an almost oppressive silence fell upon the camp. But no cheer followed its rendering. Into the hearts of the listening soldiers had stolen thoughts of Annies who were christened with all sorts of names. This Scottish lassie represented all womankind, and the notes of the song which celebrated her beauty and her virtues had touched hidden founts of emotion in thousands of men. The deep silence that followed was broken by the majestic music of “John Brown.” Then how the camp did cheer, and shout, and howl.