June 29th. The command marched at 6 A. M. and made the longest and most severe march in its history. We passed through Liberty and Jonhsville to Uniontown, a distance of fully thirty miles. Some say thirty-five. The roads were good but fearfully dusty. We rested occasionally, perhaps three hours all told, and went into bivouac in fair condition, although there were many stragglers. The day was beautiful, but the sun much too hot for comfort. Riding at the head of the column the general suggested that every man be required to contribute something for the amusement of the party. I unexpectedly made quite a hit by relating a lot of Ovid’s metamorphoses, which some of them had never heard of before and thought very wonderful. Occasionally we dismounted and walked, and at times rode out of the column to neighboring houses to have a chat with the natives, get a cool drink of water, and perhaps a chat with the girls of the establishment. How one does enjoy a stretch on the cool green grass after the day’s march is over, and what an immense appetite one has at night. Nothing can be more delightful and interesting than campaigning in a civilized country at this season of the year. Uniontown is a pretty secluded village, patriotic, but paralyzed just now by the nearness of the rebel army.
In passing through these towns, we usually resume the regular step, and with bands playing and colors flying make a stunning appearance. The Fifty-second, as in days gone by, although now with fewer voices, sing their memorable songs, which creates more enthusiasm than do the bands.
