A day of rest at the excellent hotel _de Farish_ so refreshed us that when we resumed our trip we felt as though our brigade had assumed the proportions of a division, and every one of us an officer. Rapidan Station, the terminus of our trip by rail from Charlottesville, was reached late in the afternoon, and distributing our traps equally, we set out on foot to overtake Longstreet’s corps, the rear of General Lee’s army. Jackson had the advance, and was making a forced march to get in the rear of Pope’s army, at Manassas. Our march lay along the Orange and Alexandria Railroad, through Culpepper, where we diverged to the left and took the road to Salem and the Plains. Shortly after leaving Culpepper we overtook the stragglers and broken down men of the army—to be counted by thousands. The majority of the poor fellows—barefooted and with bleeding feet—were struggling manfully to reach their respective commands, whilst others were quietly building shelters and laying in a supply of green corn, to await, as they coolly informed us, “the return of the army.” Marching rapidly, on the 28th day of the month we came upon the rear of Longstreet’s corps in _bivouac_ a mile or two from Thoroughfare Gap. Heavy cannonading was going on in front, and upon inquiring the reason for it, we were informed the enemy in strong force were disputing the pass, but that heavy columns of infantry had been sent over the mountain to flank them, and it was not doubted for a moment but the movement would succeed. A council of war was now called by our commandant, and the brigade unanimously resolved to go into camp for the night, as Atkins declared, “Divil the bit could he fight on an impty stomach, at all, at all.” Selecting a little strip of woods somewhat retired from the main body of the army, the brigade went supperless to rest. The sun was at least an hour high when we awoke from our slumber, to find the corps of Longstreet gone, and already several miles on its way to relieve Jackson, who, rumor said, had been closely pressed for two days by overwhelming numbers, and with difficulty held his own. We arose feeling gloomy enough. The roar of artillery had ceased, as had the rattle of musketry of the previous evening, and everything was still as death. Poor, hapless little brigade, retiring supperless and arising breakfastless. Shellman was the first to complain, though having the least to sustain. “Who ever heard of a command without a commissary?” he muttered. “Arrah, Mr. Shellman, you see I am economizing, for what in the divil is the use of having a commissary when there’s nothing to commissary, and the Confideracy is poor enough, God knows, except in shinplasters. Bad luck to ye.” The argument was unanswerable, and Shellman subsided, “As we have no commissary to plase the gintleman—and I’m blasted if I am much plased meself—I would suggest we went skrimmigen.”