Sunday, 16th.—What a Sunday! What a day of rest! Troops were called at 5 A. M. Carried heavy knapsacks, guns and ammunition, and march till 9 1-2 P. M.; sixteen and a half hours, and no enemy near! Truly, “Old Burney” begins vigorously; but, if this is an earnest that he means business, let him push on. His men will not complain.
This morning I got up sick, with a painful diarrhœa. Have been feeble all day, and as 9 o’clock came, with its cold and piercing winds sighing through the pines and over the hills, how longingly I looked for that “little candle,” which in times of peace was wont to “throw its beams so far” to greet me on my return to home, after a long night’s ride! How I yearned, in lonely thoughts, amidst this crowd, for the cheerful scenes and comforts which had often welcomed me on such a night. When shall I enjoy them again? When will this thirst for blood, and unholy struggle for power, yield to the love of peace and happiness at home? We passed Cattlett’s Station in our march to-day, and encamped for the night near Weaversville, with orders to continue our march at 6 o’clock to-morrow morning.
