The tents of the Second Brigade and the Cavalry, which had already crossed, were seen on the plain on the other side the river. Halting at the top of the road leading down a high bank to the drift or ford, the men were ordered to take off their boots and trews, and pack their ammunition pouches in their blankets. The effect was most absurd,--nearly 1000 men standing in the ranks in column of companies, with bare legs, their unmentionables on their heads or round their necks, and their boots and socks dangling from the muzzles of their firelocks. The waggons, with the wheels rheimed, were let gradually down the bank by drag-ropes. Thus we crossed the river, at this point nearly a quarter of a mile in breadth; the water reaching to the men's middles, and to our saddle-flaps. The current was strong and rapid, rushing with great force between the legs of man and horse, endangering their equilibrium, and carrying some score of dogs far down the current. The sensation occasioned by the swiftly running stream was most bewildering. I felt at first as though I were darting up the river at railway speed, then so giddy that I clutched my horse's mane to prevent myself falling off. All having crossed, the first thing we did after pitching our tents by those of the other Brigade, was to rush to the river and plunge into its cooling flood, swimming and splashing about under the shade of the weeping willows that dipped into it; every body in a perfect frenzy of delight, many actually lying in the water smoking, and the whole breadth of the river covered over with heads, as if by wild fowl; for every man in the Division bathed twice or thrice over in the course of the day.