On the 13th we broke camp, taking the road towards Harper’s Ferry, arriving there the next forenoon. On the 15th we again started out, crossing the river on a pontoon bridge, and marched down to Berlin, a little dried-up town, six miles below the Ferry, on the north bank of the Potomac, with no feature of interest, save the wildly beautiful scenery that abounds on either hand; the bold bluffs on the opposite bank—tree-crowned—seemingly guarding the noble river below, while away to the southward, the Blue Ridge, rising tier on tier, giving the surrounding atmosphere that peculiar hue, from which this range of mountains takes its name, and to the westward rises, almost to the very clouds, in picturesque beauty, the historic heights at Harper’s Ferry. We had been detailed as escort to a battery of artillery, and early on the following morning, the “crossing over” began. The river at this point runs with great rapidity, and the bottom at the ford, we found to be full of huge boulders, causing many a mishap and much labor; sometimes a horse would go down almost out of sight, but, at last, by swimming and wading, the crossing of the artillery was safely effected; the men were transported over on an old flat-boat that lay rotting, near by, on the shore. We pushed rapidly forward to Purcillville, an insignificant hamlet, near Snicker’s Gap. The next day being Sunday, and, for a wonder, not being called upon for any sort of duty, was passed in a sort of sleepy, dreamy way—a fact noticeable throughout our whole command. Since the severe marching and physical endurance of the past two months. Early on Monday, the 18th, our division moved down to Snicker’s Ferry, where the enemy was posted in force on the other side of the river. Our brigade was immediately pushed forward, plunging into the water, which was waist deep, we crossed over, driving the Rebels before us, and took a position on the west bank of the famed Shenandoah. The rest of the division soon joined us, and our line of battle was rapidly formed. We had thrown out a heavy line of skirmishers, as soon as the crossing was effected, Col. Wilson taking charge of them in person, mounted on his black charger, he rode from one end of the line to the other, getting it firmly established, and, though the air was thick with bullets, he escaped unharmed.