Having a curiosity to test the resources and hospitality of this abundant country, I set out from camp, with two companions, for this purpose. A walk of a mile brought us to the house of a widow with three pretty daughters. They told us they had been feeding many of our soldiers and could give us only some milk, which they served, as seemed to be the custom of the country, in large bowls. They said they did not dislike rebels, and if we would go on to Washington and kill Lincoln, and end the war, they would rejoice. Proceeding farther, we stopped at a substantial brick house and were silently ushered into a large room, in the far end of which sat the head of the house, in clean white shirt-sleeves but otherwise dressed for company, his hat on and his feet as high as his head against the wall, smoking a cigar. At the other end of the room the rest of the family were at supper, of which we were perfunctorily asked by the mistress to partake. A very aged lady, at a corner of the table, without speaking or raising her eyes, chewed apparently the same mouthful during our stay—one of our party suggested, "perhaps her tongue." The table was thickly covered with saucers of preserves, pickles, radishes, onions, cheese, etc. The man of the house did not turn his head nor speak a word during our stay, which was naturally over with the meal.
We returned to the battalion about sunset, encamped in a clean, grassy enclosure, the horses enjoying their bountiful food, the men in gay spirits, and the regimental bands playing lively airs. Shortly after our return, there occurred an incident which lent additional interest to the occasion.
No one at all familiar with the Rockbridge Artillery will fail to remember Merrick. A lawyer and native of Hagerstown, Maryland, having been educated abroad, he was an accomplished scholar and a fine musician, with a stock of Irish and other songs which he sang admirably. In person he was very slender, over six feet in height, with a long neck, prominent nose, and very thin hair and whiskers. Cut off from home and being utterly improvident, he was entirely dependent on quartermaster's goods for his apparel, and when clothing was issued his forlorn and ragged appearance hushed every claim by others who might have had precedence. This Confederate clothing, like the rations, was very short, so that Merrick's pantaloons and jacket failed to meet, by several inches, the intervening space showing a very soiled cotton shirt. With the garments mentioned—a gray cap, rusty shoes and socks, and, in winter, half the tail of his overcoat burnt off—his costume is described.
Indifference to his appearance extended also to danger, and when a battle was on hand so was Merrick. Before crossing the Potomac he disappeared from the command a perfect-looking vagabond, and now as we were reveling in this bountiful country there rolled into our midst a handsome equipage drawn by two stylish horses. When the door was opened out stepped Merrick, handsomely dressed in citizen's clothes, and handed out two distinguished-looking gentlemen, to whom he introduced us. Then, in the language of Dick Swiveler, "he passed around the rosy"; and all taking a pull, our enthusiasm for Merrick mounted high.
Our march under Ewell had been admirably conducted. We were always on the road at an early hour, and, without hurry or the usual halts caused by troops crowding on one another, we made good distances each day and were in camp by sunset. I never before or afterward saw the men so buoyant. There was no demonstration, but a quiet undercurrent of confidence that they were there to conquer. The horses, too, invigorated by abundant food, carried higher heads and pulled with firmer tread.
Our march from Greencastle was through Chambersburg and Shippensburg, and when within eight or ten miles of Carlisle we passed through one or two hundred Pennsylvania militia in new Federal uniforms, who had just been captured and paroled. Before reaching Carlisle we very unexpectedly (to us) countermarched, and found the militiamen at the same place, but almost all of them barefooted, their shoes and stockings having been appropriated by needy rebels. As we first saw them they were greatly crestfallen, but after losing their footgear all spirit seemed to have gone out of them. They lingered, it may be, in anticipation of the greetings when met by wives and little ones at home, after having sallied forth so valiantly in their defense. How embarrassing bare feet would be instead of the expected trophies of war! Imagine a young fellow, too, meeting his sweetheart! That they kept each other company to the last moment, managed to reach home after night, and ate between meals for some days, we may be sure.
Before reaching Chambersburg we took a road to the left, in the direction of Gettysburg. To give an idea of the change in our diet since leaving Dixie, I give the bill-of-fare of a breakfast my mess enjoyed while on this road: Real coffee and sugar, light bread, biscuits with lard in them, butter, apple-butter, a fine dish of fried chicken, and a quarter of roast lamb!
On the morning of July 1 we passed through a division of Longstreet's corps bivouacked in a piece of woods. Our road lay across a high range of hills, from beyond which the sound of cannonading greeted us. By three o'clock that afternoon, when we reached the summit of the hills, the firing ahead had developed into the roar of a battle, and we pushed forward on the down-grade. The valley below, through which we passed, was thickly settled, and soon we began to meet prisoners and our wounded, whose numbers rapidly increased as we advanced, and at the same pump by the roadside we frequently saw a group of Federal and Confederate soldiers having their wounds bathed and dressed by Northern women, kind alike to friend and foe. When we reached the field, about sundown, the battle was over. This was July 1 and the first of the three days of terrific fighting which constituted the battle of Gettysburg.