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We marched some distance into town, and stopped before a hotel, when the Lieutenant after giving orders for no one to go out of ranks, disappeared. It was raining, we were tired and anxious to be disencumbered of our loads, but we waited patiently for his return, in expectation of that supper, and speculating upon the sleeping accommodations. Quite a number of people collected about us, of whom a large proportion were men, and they seemed very slightly discomposed by the state of affairs in the neighborhood. I inquired of one little fellow who was running around talking of rebels, “what a rebel was,” and received for a reply, a “black abolitionist.” I endeavored to convince him that I was a black abolitionist, and told him to tell his father so, but the idea was evidently so preposterous to him that I believe he concluded I was joking. The lieutenant could not be found, and the men began to drop off one after another in search of places to rest, until none but Doc. Nyce and myself were left. In order to be near at hand, we went across the street to a stone door step, where we sat down, and both fell asleep. After a time something awoke us, and concluding we would have to take care of ourselves, we went inside the tavern, and lying down in the entry with a number of others, secured a second nap from which we were aroused about one o'clock by the command “Fall in men.” The lieutenant had returned, and upon getting our places, we marched around to a restaurant, were supplied with a piece of bread and a tin-cup full of hot coffee, and then proceeded to the depot upon the platform of which we passed the remainder of the night. It was an extremely filthy place, but sheltered us from the rain. I never knew certainly what caused the prolonged absence of the Lieutenant, but it was reported that when