January 5 — We did not camp last night, but lay on the road-side about a mile from Hancock, trying to sleep a little, but it was too cold for the business, and moreover it was way after midnight before we were allowed to break ranks.
At daylight this morning the troops were all ready for what next. About nine o’clock I saw Colonel Ashby going toward the river under a white flag. He crossed the Potomac, and I suppose demanded the surrender of the town, which, from all appearances, was refused; for as soon as Ashby returned Jackson commenced planting his batteries in position on the heights this side of the river.
About two o’clock this afternoon Jackson’s guns commenced a slow fire across the river. The artillerists did not fire promiscuously on the town, but directed the shots to points where they were most likely to find Yankee game with guns.
I saw a company of Yankee cavalry in a churchyard on the farthest side of town, with their sabers drawn. I suppose they were ready to charge the whole of Dixie Land, and would have done it if it had not been that the river was in the way. The artillery failed to develop anything of a serious character, and after firing slowly for an hour or so, ceased altogether.
This afternoon I went through a small Yankee camp which they had left in double-quick time last night, on this side of the river, a little below Hancock. The Sibley tents are still standing, and their former occupants bequeathed us their camp kettles, bed-ticks, and even some of their clothing. In one tent I found a sheet of letter paper, with a pen and an open inkstand close by; on the paper was the beginning of a letter in the following words: “Dear Father, I am glad to inform you that this evening finds me on the soil of Virginia,” — then left, and pulled for the other shore.
