Chattanooga, Monday, June 26. That for which we have so long waited, for which so many hard words have been uttered because of its long delay, for which so many officers have been roughly abused for its being withheld—We are ordered to the States. To be mustered out. Hurrah!! Hurrah!!!

Boys went out grazing as usual this morning. 9 A. M. here comes an orderly which set the Captain a-jumping, Lieutenants a-crowing and privates run wild. In less time than it takes to write, all hands, cooks and negroes included, were at work cleaning off the guns so that they will be received by ordnance officers. Water, brush and rags and every available cleanser used until they would pass. Boys came in with horses at noon and another stock of good feelings passed around. Afternoon well spent in cleaning, counting and gathering harness and other stores. Commence turning them over to-morrow. Never since we last threw up works in front of the enemy, did the boys work with such a will. All past grievances forgotten in pleasant anticipations of the future.

Chattanooga, Tuesday, June 27. Daylight found us in our boots and stirring. 7:30 A. M. the Battery moved out followed by battery wagons, forge and four wagon loads of ordnance. I on detail along. Ordnance officer ready to receive us. Lieutenant A. Sweet superintended the counting of everything by the clerk, which is a very tedious job. Captain Simpson disposed of ammunition. I was on duty with Lieutenant Sweet and rode fast and heavy as orderly for him, bringing reports, etc. to and from camp. To-night everything is gone except the horses, which will be turned over to-morrow.

Great anxiety is expressed by all to reach home by the Fourth of July, which at present looks very probable. Camp looks forlorn and disorganized, everything upside down, boxes being made to be carried by express, knapsacks packed as though there was no time to do it to-morrow, but nobody notices it. All of the reserve are under home orders to-day. Fortune smiled on us this time in being first; aye, it laughed outright upon us. But, dear Journal, I cannot write, I feel too good.

Stopped to wood up. Many of the boys got off to pick blackberries which were very plenty. At the instant the signal was given to start, the drunken brute threw full power on the engine starting up with great suddenness, and we were soon under full headway. Poor Frank King was on the ladder between the cars, and he lost his hold and fell on the rails, the forward trucks of the car I was on, passing over his lower extremities. The shuddering cries of the wounded man pierced the ears of all on board, and one and all strove to stop the train, but the engineer instead increased his power. Not until the boys locked the brakes so tight that his drive wheels flew over on the rail, did he stop, and then he made a mad effort to proceed, which resulted in breaking loose towards the forward end of the train.

Swift feet carried men back to where the unfortunate man lay. An engineer of the southern train was bathing his temples with water and endeavoring to stay the flow of blood, but he was gone beyond the power of human skill, his legs badly crushed and spine injured so that he died in a few moments without uttering an audible word. The train was backed up and the corpse put into a vacant car with his bereaved brother Fred, and we proceeded in the same reckless manner. The boys by this time were filled with just indignation, and at Murfreesboro, as the now perfect demon rushed into the nearest saloon to imbibe once more of the "devil's beverage", he was surrounded by a crowd, rushed out of doors and handled roughly, pistols were presented, and his life was in jeopardy, when he said "that he did not care if he killed every d——."

Captain Simpson and Lieutenant Sturges of Battery E, 1st Ohio, telegraphed to Nashville the facts, and demanded another engineer of the conductor, but he refused, so Sergeant Dziewanowski and three or four others of our boys rode on the engine to watch him. Ran very well to Lavergne, fifteen miles from Nashville, when he discovered his boiler was almost dry, water all gone. Watered and he was obliged to run the engine alone to pump the water into the boiler. Ran down the track a mile and a half, and came back under all the speed he could raise. Without letting up struck the train, mashing in the forward cars, and knocking everybody in the train down nearly. By this time two pistols were fired at the villain, and a stone struck him on the head. He rushed on for Nashville, his fireman leaving him to his fate. After some delay another engine hitched on to us and we proceeded with caution. Five miles from town we found his engine on the road, he having taken himself to the woods. Reached depot by 10 P. M. and slept in the depot.

Louisville Depot, Nashville, Friday, June 30. Before dawn this morning Davie Evans and myself were aroused from a heavy sleep to go and watch the corpse of F. King. The body lay in an old freight car covered with coarse sacks. By it sat his brother Fred, the only mourner, writing the sad tidings to their dear ones, whose hearts are bounding in anticipation of the joyful meeting. Oh, how uncertain are human joys. One moment of time often turns the brightest picture into a painful blank. 9 A. M. we started in search of a coffin. Returned at 10:30 A. M. with a rough board one, and the undertaker took charge of it; his brother even, not allowed to see the cold clay close over him.

In the meantime the Company had gone into the exchange barracks a mile distant. Faint for want of breakfast we followed and procured a good substantial meal, which answered for both breakfast and dinner. Captain Simpson reported as ordered to General Thomas. Received instructions to return the detached men to their command. The 3rd to proceed with us to the States; the 8th boys must go back to Murfreesboro, a disappointment to them. Transportation procured. We expect to leave for Louisville 7:50 P. M. The 1st Illinois and Battery E, 1st Ohio, to go along. All are much pleased with our good luck in getting off so soon. Nashville is the same as ever, a low-down, demoralized hole.

Soldiers' Home, Louisville, Ky., Saturday, July 1. 7 A. M. We have completed another ride in the dark, of 183 miles. Rode in second-class passenger cars, very crowded, and no sleep. Have had a splendid breakfast (for soldiers) at the Soldiers' Home. Served in a manner which reminds us very forcibly that we are nearing civilization. Officers are working for the boys handsomely, will try to get us off 5 A. M. This hall is a musical one just now; four of the batteries, light artillery—all going home.

Kokomo, Ind., Sunday, July 2. Crossed the Ohio River yesterday about noon, into "God's country" as the boys call it. Said assertion was rendered true, having a good dinner at the Soldiers' Home. But when they put us in cattle cars two hours late, to go North, the spirit dampened. Started at 2 P. M. northward, an extra train, made slow time.

Now we travel through a country never darkened with slavery and rebellion. The contrast was very great. I almost imagined I was transferred into the Elysian fields of mythology. The fields teemed with golden harvest, grain nearly all cut, droves of cattle grazed in rich pastures of tame grass, pretty little children could be seen gathered around district school-houses, and sweet girls appeared in neat calicoes with "nary" a "swab" in their mouths. Above all, we were welcomed. White handkerchiefs are waved enthusiastically from every house and hamlet, stars and stripes were thrown out triumphantly to the breeze as we passed along, each demonstration drawing forth ringing response from the joyous soldier boys. At Henryville an entire school of young ladies turned out to welcome the "extra" train with soldiers, the building being draped with a large flag. At Seymour a great arch had been erected over the railway on which was inscribed "Welcome Home, Brave Soldiers."

Night soon overtook us now. It was 10 P. M. when we arrived, sleepy and well shaken, at Indianapolis, of which we knew no more than to hastily jump into another string of dirty box cars, and rush on through broken slumbers to Kokomo Junction, where we arrived 5 A. M. Are now waiting for an engine down from Chicago to take us up.

Soldiers' Rest, Chicago, Monday, July 3. We left Kokomo 8 A. M. and had a very pleasant ride through a beautiful country teeming with good crops, etc. The same cordial welcome shown as yesterday. Reached this place 5 P. M. last evening and marched through crowds of inhabitants out to see "the boys coming home", with a bright new flag proudly floating in the breeze, to the Soldiers' Rest where we were furnished a splendid supper by the fair ones of Chicago. Slept where we might. I rested on depot platform. Have had another good breakfast, and am impatiently waiting 9 A. M. when the train leaves for Madison, Wisconsin. Captain Simpson has telegraphed for permission to let the boys go home and spend the Fourth.