Breathed fought hard that day. From the waving field of rye on the upland his guns thundered on--in the face of that fire, the enemy could not, or would not, advance. So the night came on, and Stuart’s great train moved. Those wagons were a terrible encumbrance to us on the march. But Stuart determined not to abandon them, and they were dragged on--a line stretched to infinity! Thenceforth, dear reader, the march was a sort of dream to me. How can I relate my adventures--the numerous spectacles and events of the time? I know not even now if they were events or mere dreams, seeing that, all the long way, I was half asleep in the saddle! It was a veritable Drowsyland that we moved through on horseback! The Dutchmen, the “fraus,” the “spreading,” the sauer-kraut--the conestogas, the red barns, the guttural voices, the strange faces--were these actual things, or the mere fancies of a somnambulist? Was I an officer of real cavalry making a real march; or a fanciful being, one of a long column of phantoms? I seem dimly to remember a pretty face, whose owner smiled on me--and a faint memory remains of a supper which she gave me. If I am not mistaken I was left alone in the town of Salem--hostile faces were around me--and I was falling asleep when Hampton’s cavalry came up. I think, then, I rode on with him--having been left to direct him. That we talked about horses, and the superiority of “blood” in animals; that at dawn, Hampton said, “I am perishing for sleep!” and that we lay down, side by side, near a haystack. All that is a sort of phantasmagoria, and others were no better than myself. Whole columns went to sleep, in the saddle, as they rode along; and General Stuart told me afterward, that he saw a man attempt to climb over a fence, half succeed only, and go to sleep on the top rail! Some day I promise myself the pleasure of travelling in Pennsylvania. It possesses all the attractions to me of a world seen in a dream! But after that good sleep, side by side with the great Carolinian, things looked far more real, and pushing on I again caught up with Stuart. He advanced steadily on Carlisle, and in the afternoon we heard artillery from the south. I looked at my military map, and calculated the distance. The result was that I said:-- “General, those guns are at a place called Gettysburg on this map.” “Impossible!” was his reply. “They can not be fighting there. You are certainly wrong.” But I was right. Those guns were the signal of the “First day’s fight at Gettysburg.” XIX CARLISLE BY FIRELIGHT. It can not be said that we accomplished very enormous results at Carlisle. The enemy defended it bravely. Stuart sent in a flag, demanding a surrender: this proposition was politely declined; and for fear that there might possibly remain some doubts on the subject, the Federal commander of the post, opened with artillery upon the gray cavalry. That was the signal for a brisk fight, and a magnificent spectacle also.