Picketing along the Rapidan at this time was not a hardship, since by mutual consent there was no firing, and the native Yankee disposition to explore had full vent, when not actually on post, the reserve furnishing many opportunities for learning habits and conditions of the people not otherwise attainable. Relieving the Ninetieth Pennsylvania, one-half of the detail attended to extreme outpost duty, while the other part enjoyed absence of drill and inspections around the reserve camp, "Revelling in that delicious abandon, one bright spot in a soldier's life, when he can do just what he pleases." Thus it was an even turn-about during the days on the river, in these parts only a narrow stream of possibly three rods' width. Most cordial relations existed between Reb. and Fed. and the trades between the Blue and the Gray proved that no monopoly in the swapping habit was enjoyed by the Yankee. Whatever extra coffee the boys possessed proved to be as good as cash, if not better, when dealing with these Sept. 27, '63 lads from the Southland. They even swam across the river to partake of Northern hospitality and to facilitate exchanges. The nights being cold, campfires were kindled on both sides and the alleged enemies kept as comfortable as possible, in plain sight of each other.

In the stillness of the Sunday evening (27th) the Confederates in their camp indulged in a prayer-meeting and their hymns, the same that Northern Christians were singing at that very moment in the far away churches, were plainly heard by the hostile soldiery on our side of the stream. Need there be any wonder that some listeners moralized on the absurdity of men who read the same Bible and sang the same songs, spending several years of their lives, none too long at the longest in shooting at each other? Here took place the famous exchange of song, so often told in campfires and wherever it is desirable to prove that one touch of Nature makes the whole world kin. One night the Rebs. started off on the "Bonnie Blue Flag," and when their strains had ceased, the Yanks got back at them with the "Star Spangled Banner"; next the Boys in Gray tuned up with "Maryland, My Maryland" and those in Blue naturally retorted with "The Red White and Blue"; breaking the lull that ensued, our men started John Howard Payne's immortal and universal "Home Sweet Home"; scarcely had the first note been struck before the sympathetic enemy chimed in, and Virginian woods and hillsides echoed with the tender strains clearly showing how Saxon blood remembers. On another occasion a musical exchange, beginning with "Pennyroyal," ran through the list of then popular melodies, though all sang in unison, and very naturally, too, for ending "Old Hundred." Will not coming generations wonder that men who could together sing the old songs should ever fight each other?

Monday, the 28th, ended the stay by the river's side and the detail returned to camp, coming up with it some two miles nearer than when it was left, a fact that in no way disturbed those coming back. While a large part of the Regiment was on its tour of duty, those left behind were by no means idle and they too had their observations of Confederates who apparently had heard from Chickamauga, a favorite shout of theirs across the river being, "How are you, Rosey?" In the afternoon of the 27th, the Regiment and the whole Corps again changed locations; the pickets along the river could plainly see and hear the rebels at their respective tasks; the work upon their fortifications, their drills and other occupations. Here it was that Lieut. Colonel Peirson's detachment found the Regiment on its return. A short move on the 29th, brought the Regiment out of shelling range, but in a place so heavily wooded that trees had to be felled to make camping places, and on ground so low that very little rain made it extremely moist. By building bunks, we were enabled to keep out of the mud, but we were far from comfortable and, to crown all our discomforture, though there was water everywhere, as in the case of the Ancient Mariner, we found not a drop to drink; that had to be brought from a distance. The fires for cooking and bodily comfort were maintained with difficulty, and inflamed eyes, through prevailing smoke, became the rule.

Friday, October 2d, marked a sad day in the annals of the Divisions; the forenoon had been so rainy that it seemed as though nothing could add to the discomforts of the situation, yet the prospect of a march to witness the execution of a bounty-jumper was not so inviting as it might have been under less watery conditions. It was about noon that the Regiment fell into line, and, after standing an hour under the pelting rain, thoroughly drenched it moved out and in mud and water seemingly knee-deep marched some two miles or more to the assigned rendezvous where, after many changes of position to accommodate other portions of the Division, the rain having cleared away, the band of the Sixteenth Maine playing a dirge announced the approach of the procession; the same consisting of the provost Oct. 3, '63 guard, followed by an ambulance in which rode the prisoner, sitting upon his coffin, accompanied by his chaplain. Blindfolded and kneeling upon his coffin, the firing squad, obedient to orders, discharged their weapons and the deserter of the Ninetieth Pennsylvania passed on to his reward; however gruesome the scene may have been, undoubtedly the lesson was a valuable one upon such as thought the laws of the land could be broken with impunity.

The return from the execution to a camp, practically under water, was anything but inspiriting and whatever was eaten had to be taken out of the haversack, for campfires were out of the question and sleep to men soaking wet was hardly possible. The weather clearing during the night gave some chance for drying garments during Saturday, the 3rd, and Sunday began to seem endurable and adapted to letter writing, when there came orders to pack up, once at least heard with no sigh of regret. While waiting for orders to march, all ears were startled by the sound of cannonading, which proved to be an effort of the enemy to shell a Union wagon train which had driven somewhat near the rebel works. When the start was made and the new camping spot found, it proved to be an excellent one, high and dry, with plenty of wood and water, and by general consent, the site was first-class; in honor of the Surgeon-in-Chief of the First Corps, the place was known as "Camp Nordquist."

At dress parade, Oct. 7th, an order was read to the effect that men, desirous of changing from infantry regiments to light artillery batteries, could do so by sending their names through the proper channels. Much to the surprise of the officers, there was a very general response to the proposition; indeed two hundred and twenty-three men, almost one half of the effective regimental organization, had filled out papers. Colonel Davis forwarded the long list to division headquarters with his approval, but the applicants had so far overdone the matter, nothing came of it, save that General Robinson in a special order said that the service must inevitably suffer, if so many men were to go from one organization, and there the project ended. However fitting the men found Camp Nordquist, it was not theirs to remain there long, since after lights had been extinguished in the night of the 9th and the men were in the midst of their before-midnight slumbers, there came peremptory orders to pack up and be ready to march. Quickly responding, and building great fires for light and comfort, the Regiment was soon in place and prepared for the next command. It did not come until the morning of the 10th, when in obedience to it the Brigade, Division and all, started out over a by no means easy route and kept in motion until morning. Finding ourselves in the vicinity of Morton's Ford, we were ordered to cook breakfast and make ourselves as comfortable as possible.