Orders for a forward movement were issued by General Rosecrans on Wednesday, the twenty-fourth of December, and on Christmas morning the camps were alive with preparation. The day was spent in writing to loved ones far away among the snow-covered hills of the great Northwest. Tattoo found men discussing the chances of coming battle. Here and there was a soldier giving the last finishing touch to the gleaming gun-barrel. The surgeon, in his tent, sat before a table on which in glittering display lay the implements of his craft. The long, keen knife, the saw, the probe, were each in turn subjected to close inspection and carefully adjusted in the case. Field officers paid a last visit to their faithful chargers and exhorted grooms to feed early and not to forget to bring along an extra feed lest perchance the following night would find the troops far in advance of the wagons. Quartermasters, that hard-worked and little-appreciated class of officers, toiling through the long night with their loaded wagon trains getting into position for an orderly march; commissaries, upon whose vigilance all depended, carrying out orders for three days' rations in haversacks and five days' more in wagons. A busy day was followed by a busy night. The clatter of horses' hoofs upon the turnpike roads leading out of Nashville to the encampments sounded all through the night. Now a solitary orderly galloped down from division headquarters bearing a message to a brigade commander. Soon a group of officers rode gaily by from a late carousal at the St. Cloud; then came a corps commander with staff and escort from conference with the chief, his last injunction ringing in his ears, "We move tomorrow, gentlemen. We shall begin to skirmish probably as soon as we pass the outposts. Press them hard. Drive them out of their nests. Make them fight or run. Strike hard and fast; give them no rest. Fight them! fight them! fight them! I say," as the uplifted right hand emphasized each sentence upon the palm of the left hand. Thomas received the orders with a grim smile of approval; McCook's sharp eyes twinkled with enjoyment; Crittenden straightened his trim figure, and his eyes shone as he stalked out of the room, followed by his aides, as if in haste to begin his part of the programme. There was glorious assurance in the manly stride, the determined look, and in the triple armor with which he is clad who hath his quarrel just; and his must have been a dull ear, indeed, who did not note, in the merry jest and tuneful song that floated along the ranks, the augury of victory.