In the afternoon, taking advantage of the quiet, our negro mess cooks came into the line, to bring us something to eat. Each fellow had the cooked meat, and bread, for his mess, in a bag, swung over his shoulder. They came on across the field until within a hundred yards of the line, when a shell struck, in the field, not far from them. The darkies scattered, like a covey of birds! Some ran one way, and some another. Some ran back to the rear, and a few ran on to us. Our cook, Ephraim, came tearing on with long leaps, and tumbled over among us crying out, "De Lord have mercy upon us." "Ephraim," we said, "what is the matter? what did you run for?" All in a tremble, he thrust out the bag towards us, and exclaimed, "Here, Marse George, take your vituals, and let me git away from here. De Lord forgive me for being such a fool as to come to sich a place as dis _anyhow_." "But, Ephraim," we said, "there was no danger! That shell didn't hit anywhere near you." "De ain't no use in telling me dat! Don't nobody know whar dem things goin'! Sound to me like it was bout to hit me side my head, and bust my brains out, every minit; and if it had a hit me, dem other cooks would all a run away, and left me lying out dar, like a poor creeter." "But, my dear Ephraim," we said, "it mortifies us to see the 'Howitzer' cooks running so, with all the men looking on." "Don't keer who looking! When dem things come any whar bout me, I _bleeged_ to run. Dis ain't no place for cooks, nohow. Here gentlemen! take your rations; I got to get away from here!" We emptied the bag, he threw it over his back, and streaked with it to the rear. Another night in line here! Next morning, June 2d, orders came to move. We got on a road running along, just back of our position, and marched off toward the right. The road ran, for some distance, nearly parallel to our lines, and then bore away toward the rear. For a time we met, or passed bodies of troops and wagon teams on the roadside, soldiers single, or in groups. Further on, all these reminders of the presence of the Army were left behind, and we found ourselves marching on quiet lonely country roads, through woods and fields of a peaceful rural landscape. We had not the least idea where we were going; or what we were going to do, or see when we got there. But we had got out of the habit of caring for that. =The Last March of Our Howitzer Captain= It was a calm, sweet June evening! quiet country farms, and homes lay all about us. The whole scene spoke of peace. It was such a restful change to us from the din and smoke and crowd we had been in the midst of so long. We gave ourselves up to the influences of the hour, and a very pleasant evening we cannoneers had strolling along, in front of the column of guns, and talking together.