January 1, 1862 — New Year’s Day, and orders to go to Dam No. 5, with Ashby’s cavalry. This was a bright sunny day, but a cold west wind made it disagreeable marching. This evening we are camped in a field near Dam No. 5, with cold beef, bread, and plenty of good water, and an old barn full of soft downy hay to sleep in to-night, all of which brightens the cheer of the glad New Year.
This is a beautiful bright night. The moon hangs in a clear sky, and it is nearly as light as day. A few tiny fragments of dissolving clouds, that look like little bunches of snowy lace, are scudding across the azure dome chasing each other toward the gates of morning. Now as I am ready for my soldier bed, the wintry wind is howling fiercely around the old barn, the pickets are firing along the river not far away, a memorable hymn for the natal day of 1862.
