Quite nine months have passed since that hurried departure from Arlington for the Maryland side of old Potomac's shore and now, on the 18th of July, the sacred soil is again trodden by Massachusetts feet as the regiment takes its way through a section that fairly captivates the eyes of these men so far from home and, after a march of possibly thirteen miles, the lovely village of Waterford is reached at about two o'clock in the afternoon. Considering the unusual beauty of the village, its marked similarity to just such assemblages of dwellings in the North, the surprise of the visitors is not so great when they learn that the place has furnished two full companies of soldiers for the Union army. After a good night's rest, at 6 a. m. of Sunday, the 19th, the regiment passed through the village, keeping step to patriotic airs, while the people displayed Union flags and cheered the passing men in blue; the scene would hardly have been different, were they in one of their own Northern towns. Through a continuation of yesterday's scenic beauties, the march is made to the village of Hamilton fifteen miles away, also a beautiful place, and here the halt is made under trees so umbrageous that tents are unnecessary, all declaring it the very best camping place yet. The neighboring fields abound in seemingly endless quantities of blackberries of which the hungry soldiers proceed to eat their fill, not only satisfying hunger but proving an excellent specific for certain ailments incident to the season. Had the officers purposely directed the army this way, they could have done nothing more opportune for the health of the men. What Northern home is ignorant of the healing qualities of blackberry cordial? Better far than many responses to the surgeon's call.

The men thought the Sunday well spent and, after a twilight devoted to reminiscenes, wherein of course home abounded, couches on mother earth were sought, hoping that sleep might be undisturbed until morn. It was well that rest was taken early for it is only two o'clock of the 20th when morning sleep is broken by the bugle call; evidently a long march is in prospect, but from characteristic delays, it is fully five o'clock before faces are again set southward, the route being through a section badly scarred by the ravages of war. About twenty miles are passed over in reaching Middleburg, a place on the Alexandria and Winchester turnpike, of some local importance, whose inhabitants are largely if not entirely secesh, and we are told that many of them, being in Pickett's Division, had suffered greatly at Gettysburg. Indeed one lady, the mistress of a large and elegantly furnished mansion, apparently one of the F. F. V.'s, who very kindly responded to the requests of the Union soldiers, when thanked most respectfully for her consideration, replied that she only wished people on the other side might have done as much for her son who was killed at Gettysburg. On the way July 20, '63 hither, the regiment has the new experience of fording a stream, Goose Creek, from two to four feet deep and from 80 to 100 feet wide.

A heavy picket line is thrown out because of the proximity of guerrillas, who prowl around like jackals intent on mischief; and they already had captured several division staff officers who had ridden too far ahead, for the purpose of selecting proper camping grounds. The tour of picket duty was not without its compensation since an abundance of blackberries was revealed by the morning of the 21st which, with food foraged from the enemy's country, helped out the somewhat reduced rations of the haversack. In the preceding night Samuel W. Joyce, Company C, a Medford boy, had died, worn out by the exactions of the expedition, and a prayer by the chaplain is the sole service as his body is committed to the earth, since in active warfare scant time is found for burial ceremonies. The entire day is passed in this camp, thus affording a needed rest while time is found for observation, not alone of the neighboring fields, abounding in berries, but of the people among whom no men of military age are found and of the fact that Confederate money finds greater favor here than the currency of Uncle Sam, a peculiarity however that gradually disappears as the months advance.

It is two o'clock, p. m. when the command to pack up is heard, but it is nearly or quite sundown before the start is made, since the brigade is taking its turn on the left of the line; also the guarding of the wagon train is committed to the brigade and in this somewhat arduous duty the Thirty-ninth bears its part. Over roads, never conspicuous for smoothness, now worse than ever, the troops and the train pick their weary way till 3 a. m. of the 23rd, when White Plains is reached, a distance of not more than eight miles from Middleburg, but a wearying march nevertheless. It is pretty generally understood that both the rebel and the Union armies are racing for the Rappahannock, and the Federals have the inside track. The wagons are parked here, for mules must, if men do not, rest, and those guarding have the privilege of a bivouac for a short period, while the other troops have been resting a large part of the night. Repose is enjoyed for about four hours when, at seven o'clock in the morning, we are routed out and, two hours later proceed on our route to Warrenton, some thirteen miles away, getting there not far from five in the afternoon. Much to the astonishment of the wearied marchers, a dress parade is ordered, and the men go through the form, though they would much prefer to rest their tired bodies prone upon the ground.

Warrenton is one of the names which every one has heard, over and over, ever since the beginning of the war, and all conclude that it must have been a very interesting as well as beautiful place before hostilities had marred its loveliness; the county seat of Fauquier County it possesses all of the public buildings belonging to such a place and betrays evidence of thrift, enterprise and culture. Secesh to the core, the people prefer Southern currency, though they will also take that of the North. In camp on a hill to the rear of Warrenton, the 24th is spent, rations are drawn, letters written to the homeland, and a big notch made in the stick of soldierly experience. With true military routine a dress parade is had at seven o'clock, just for the sake of maintaining the regimental altogethery feeling. Early in the morning of the 25th march is resumed and continues through a dry, level country, destitute alike of shade and water, the sun all of the time giving indications of his heat rays; occasional halts do not negative the fact that it is a long and tiresome march, on account of which many a man would have been overcome by the heat had not all been thoroughly acclimated in the vigorous drills of the preceding months. Thirteen miles of desolation bring us to noon and Warrenton Junction and, best of all, to the sight of water. The stream, though small and already muddied by all sorts of animals in their efforts for drink, is none the less sought with ardor by the thirsty men, July 25, '63 who pronounce this the dryest day in all their army experience.

Here is found a depot of supplies, the communication by rail and steam with Washington being direct and regular so that commissary and quartermaster stores are replenished; near by is the whole Army of the Potomac, though there is every indication of going further on every hand and, while seemingly in direst confusion, no one appeared to get in another's way, convincing proof that some guiding power had all these different lines well in hand. What a chance to visit this and that friend in other regiments, an opportunity of which hundreds of men availed themselves, and many a meeting here was the last in this life. Making camp in a nearby grove, rest is sought, save as it is interrupted by rations-drawing, until there comes the order to fall-in once more, but by this time the men have learned that a certain amount of leeway is to be allowed in these marching orders, and they do not respond with all of their former alacrity. It is from this point that Major Tremlett, accompanied by men from several companies, goes North for the purpose of looking after recruits expected from conscripts and substitutes. The second installment of this day's march really began about 7 p. m. and continued possibly seven miles to Bealton Station, on the Orange and Alexandria Railroad. Lack of water had made the morning's route hard to bear; nothing of the sort troubled that of the evening, since a pelting rain beat upon the faces of the marchers, filled the roads with mud and made the rivulets swelling torrents. With a single exception this was the severest storm ever encountered by the Thirty-ninth, that exception being the one when crossing the Occoquan on the return of Washington after the surrender. It is one o'clock in the morning of the 26th, that the regiment, though completely saturated with rain, files into an open field, and finds such repose as it can until the light of day.