a boy of high and gallant spirit (subsequently killed in action on the Rapidan), was rejected by reason of his youth. He was heartbroken, and tears welled up into his eyes; but his father being sent for and his consent recorded, joy replaced the gloom of this gallant "boy" soldier.
When we left Powhatan, a fund of $2,000 was given us by the county to aid our preparations for service. We were in need of one ambulance horse; but Charles Carter Lee, a brother of our noble and loved General—not a secessionist per se—but an ardent Southern sympathizer, contributed a very fine thoroughbred animal of the old "Wickham"—stock more stall-fed than corn-fed—to the development of very considerable abdominal disproportion. When Major Joe came to him at the end of the line (ridden that day by Sweeney the bugler, a wag in his way) he shook his head. "Using up seed corn in the beginning of the war." "Bugler! send that mare home; you will need that colt before we are through with this war"! Sweeney winked knowingly at the Captain, who quickly replied: "I think you are mistaken, Major, that animal is not with foal." "Just like volunteers, was the reply," was the reply, "always know better than old soldiers; can't be taught," &c. The Captain then "prayed an inspection," front and rear, which the Major carefully made, and walked off in dignified but dejected silence to the end of the line, satisfied that that mare was a well-developed "stallion," and so he was. The joke was treated as a company record.
We reached Culpeper at early dawn, in a misty rain, and there commenced our first experience in camping. Some sober and serious faces there were, but horses and provender being landed and cared for, and camp-fires briskly started on the side of the railroad track for preparation for breakfast, fun and hilarity quickly became the "order of the day."
Very soon we were comfortably quartered in the neat Baptist church, receiving every manifestation of kindness and cordiality from the citizens; and from thence, a few days thereafter, we moved to the house and farm of Mr. Hill, just outside the village, where we were delightfully quartered and cared for. Everybody was kind and considerate. Among our best friends, whose memory we recall with pleasant feeling (almost a daily visitor to our camp), was the late Mr. Beckham (father of Mrs. Dr. Ross of this city), who owned a magnificent grass farm a few miles distant, and who provided hay and provender of the very sweetest and best for our steeds, besides much else to help out our comfort. While here the
