After a rapid march of a few hours the column reached the town of Fayetteville, through which we passed without a halt. Shortly after, the troops of Longstreet’s corps were encountered, quietly cooking their rations in a wood close by the roadside. These veterans—scarcely a man of whom did not carry the scars of some hard fought field—suspended their labors and closely scrutinized us as we passed by. How it made my heart thrill with pleasurable emotions as I heard the compliments they bestowed with no sparing hand upon the splendid command to which I had the honor of belonging. By the tap of the drum they moved like machinery, and with that quick, nervous step and precision for which they were so justly celebrated throughout the entire army. “Look out for your laurels, Fourth Texas,” I heard an officer exclaim in that regiment of imperishable renown, “for if I mistake not there goes a little battalion that will give you a tug for your next wreath.” And similar remarks were heard on every side. On we pressed, and rapidly neared the town of Gettysburg. But eight miles more, and we will encamp for the night upon its outskirts. But what means this commotion ahead? Something is out, most assuredly. The order passes along the line to “Move up, men, move up.” “Dr. Snowden,” I remarked to the surgeon of the battalion, who was riding by my side, “I have imagined for some minutes that I heard the sound of artillery ahead, and from the confusion among the staff officers I am half convinced I did.” “I was about to remark the same,” the Doctor replied. “There it is again, and there, and there,” he continued, as so many sounds of artillery were distinctly heard. “But here comes the Colonel, perhaps he can enlighten us.” As Colonel Herbert approached I could see from his manner that something was wrong. Addressing me, he said: “You will keep your men well up, sir; no straggling under any circumstances. There is serious work going on ahead, and it is likely we will be into it in less than three hours. The orders are to press forward with all dispatch.” The words were overheard by some of the men, and the news ran through the battalion like wild fire. One prolonged yell announced it to the other regiments and brigades, and for a minute the welkin fairly rung with their joyous shouts. More distinct at every step became the roar of artillery, and we knew from the incessant discharges that the fight was a fierce one. I must confess I was puzzled, completely nonplussed. Who had dreamed of the enemy being in that quarter? I will venture to say not an officer of the army outside the corps commanders, and perhaps their respective staffs. And I do not believe they, or even General Lee himself, expected forty-eight hours previous to encounter him there. A dreadful blunder somewhere, but where I will leave it for the historian to tell.