September 29 — Rained last night, which put some of us to soak. There is evidently an important inroad or raid threatened by the enemy at some point some where south of us, for this morning we were ordered to Lynchburg by rail. We left camp early this morning and marched to Charlottesville, where we put our guns, horses, and men all on a train, and moved to Lynchburg by steam, where we arrived this evening little after sunset. Moving by steam is quite an improvement on the ordinary marching business, both for man and horse.
Lynchburg is situated on the south side of the James River, about sixty miles southwest of Charlottesville, and about one hundred and ten miles — the way the bird flies — west of Richmond.
The city is located in a very hilly country, and some of the encroaching hills are bold enough to stick their feet under some of the streets and bend them skyward. Most of the country along the railroad between Charlottesville and Lynchburg is very hilly, rendered so by the spreading out eastward of the foothills of the Blue Ridge. The railroad winds among and around the hills and ridges in a serpentine manner, and is as full of curves as a snake track, with cut and fill following each other in a thousand places. At one place — I think it is in Nelson County — the road passes through a considerable stretch of beautiful level country and good land. We are camped to-night in Lynchburg, with our guns still on the cars.
