June 28th. Harper’s Ferry. A fine morning. Early on board train, waiting for it to move. At 8 A. M. the train began to move slowly along the banks of the Shenandoah River, on over the iron bridge across the Potomac River, into Maryland. The cheering was loud, with shouts of “Good-bye old Virginia.” The cheering echoed and re-echoed between the mountains of Maryland and Virginia. I knew all the points of interest in this vicinity. We are in passenger cars, running along the banks of the Potomac River. At the Point of Rocks, about ten miles from Harper’s Ferry, the road turns to the left, headed to the north. At this point we bid farewell to the old Potomac. No more picket duty along its banks in all kinds of weather, watching for the enemy, and looking at the turkey buzzards as they go sailing through the air. Many times have I waded the old Potomac, swam in its water, drank it, made coffee, fished in it. When clear its waters appeared blue, or yellow from the storms. Either blue or yellow we were obliged to use it and make the best of it.
The country looked fine with its summer dress on, as we passed through it. Arrived in Baltimore this afternoon. Marched from the Camden Street station, across the city to the Philadelphia Railroad station. Passed through Pratt Street, the point where the 6th Massachusetts Regiment was attacked in April 1861. Soon on board train where hilarity continued. No one allowed to go to sleep. All are in good spirits and very happy as we go speeding on towards Philadelphia, bound for home.