General Grant, giving up all hope of succeeding in his plans by direct assault, on the night of the 20th began a flank movement in the direction of Bowling Green, hoping thereby to interpose between our army and the long-coveted Richmond. On the 21st, Wright's corps began the initiative and moved southward.

To counteract and defeat this new purpose, General Lee, at midnight, dispatched Longstreet's corps on the road leading to Hanover Junction. On the day and night of the 21st, Ewell's and Hill's (our) corps marched for the same point.

The twelve long days and nights, in the trenches at Spottsylvania, of weary watching and desperate fighting, was telling on our men, and nothing but the indomitable courage and hope of success, which at all times and under all circumstances characterized the starved and ragged Confederates, sustained them. They placed every confidence in their great and good leader, and looked forward to the time when the sunlight of this hope, with its golden radiance, would remove the veil and permit them to look out on the long and lovely paths that wind, amid beauty, to the far-off but glittering temples of their dreams, and find them realities.

During the day and the night of the 22d, we continued our toilsome march.

On these long marches, to prevent straggling, we are frequently halted for a rest, and this opportunity is taken by those who have fallen back to catch up with their commands. Any one passing through the troops at this time, be he officer or private, had to run the gauntlet of the gibes and witticisms of the men. On one occasion, while thus resting, a very tall, lean, lank soldier of the 5th "Georgy Regiment," appeared in the road, dragging along his weary length. His long black tousled hair hung in uncombed ringlets from the holes in his rimless hat; his coat or jacket, a very scant pattern of gray jeans, seemed to be widely at variance with his copperas-colored breeches, as the leather strings attached to them by thorns, to serve as "gallasses," failed to effect a compromise between the two; the pants, from his oft-repeated restings, had been badly attacked and routed in the rear, and, from long use, "swunk up" in apparent fright from his sockless pedal extremities, whose coverings of untanned leather were held together by a withe as a shoe-string. In form and stature, he was modeled strictly after the heron. His avoirdupois gave evidence of unswerving observance of forty days' Lenten season, and that in soul and body he had, and was now, wrestling with that plague incident and concomitant to the experience of every soldier, called the "dia-ree."

As he approached near where our regimental band was seated, at the head of the regiment, he appeared to halt from sheer exhaustion, and, as he did so, he came to an order and leaned in rest upon his gun. Near him stood, leaning on his drum, the tall bass-drum beater (Bill Burroughs) of the band. Bill was a fellow of "infinite jest," and possessed one of those large souls, full of sympathy and concern for the woes of others. He turned to this gaunt straggler, supposing him to be "somebody's darling," and entered into conversation with him. The "poor fellow" in detail related his hairbreadth escapes from battle, hunger, exposure, &c. When he had scarcely told all, Bill remarked to him that he ought to take notes for some future historian, and by all means to keep a diary. He raised his head, and as his eyes dimmed with the starting tear, now coursing down his bronzed and furrowed cheek, he replied, "Lord! stranger, that's what ails me now, I have had it nigh-on-to four months." The generous cords of Burroughs' haversack and canteen were unloosed and their gratuitous contents speedily disappeared. The order was now given to "fall in." The "Georgy" fellow shouldered his gun, and Bill swung his big drum on his back. Just as they parted the soldier extended his long bony fingers and grasped the hand of his Good Samaritan, thanked him kindly, and, in subdued tones of feigned grief, said: "My stranger friend, I am so much obleeged to you; can you not further oblige me by picking a tune for a sick man on that thare instrument." Thus agreeably employed our history leaves them—and we return to the course of our story.

On the morning of the 23d we reached the North Anna River in advance of the enemy, and about daylight crossed to the south side. Warren's corps crossed at Jericho ford without opposition. Hancock's corps attempted to cross lower down, at the county bridge. Our brigade obstinately resisted them, and they did not succeed in crossing until the 24th.

General Cooke relates an interesting incident which occurred during the progress of Grant's army to the North Anna, as told by a prominent citizen of Caroline County, Va., who was captured by Grant in the march. He says: "Grant had halted at a house on the roadside with a number of his officers around him with whom he was discussing with deep interest the movements in progress. During the discussion Grant pulled out his watch, and opening it, said: 'Gentlemen, if we do not hear firing in ten minutes we will at last have gotten ahead of Lee!' He stood quietly, watch in hand, an occasional remark, only, breaking the silence, when, scarcely five minutes having elapsed, the booming of guns was heard in the direction of Hanover Junction. He closed his watch and impatiently remarked, 'I'll be damned if he has not beaten us again!' And so it was, as our brigade was at the time resisting Hancock."

General Lee, on the next day, did not further dispute in force the crossing of the enemy, but formed his lines with his left resting on Little River, and his right near the North Anna below the enemy, covering Hanover Junction. Here he awaited attack.

Owing to our well-selected position, Grant could not get at our flanks; and to take us by direct assault, after his bitter experience at Spottsylvania, caused him to "pause, ponder, study, and plan."

Perceiving he had made a blunder, and that his army was in a position of much peril, he, on the night of the 26th, recrossed to the north side of the river, and made another detour to the eastward, as far down as the Pamunkey River.

On the 28th he crossed the Pamunkey at Hanovertown. On the 30th his advance ran against our brigade, on the left of our lines, at Atlee's Station, where we entertained him for some little time to his discomfiture. The next day we had a sharp engagement near Tolopotomy creek, and on June 1st, they attacked us in heavy force at Pole-Green church, the skirmish continuing for some time. Our brigade and regiment suffered considerably from their shells and sharpshooters.

Lieutenant Chas. A. Campbell was mortally wounded and was carried to the rear, where he died the next day. Campbell was one of the "original panel," serving as private until April, 1862, corporal until August, when he was promoted to sergeant. He was wounded at the battle of Sharpsburg. On his return to his command, November 1st, he was appointed Orderly Sergeant, serving as such until the 11th of December, when he was promoted to Junior 2d Lieutenant. With the exception of a short furlough from camp at Orange Court-House, he was always at his post, ready and cheerful at all times to perform his duties. Soon after he was shot down, he was carried to the field hospital, where he died and was buried the following day. As he passed me on his litter, he stretched out his almost pulseless arm and remarked, "Goodbye, Captain; if I don't come back, tell them I fell fighting at the front."