and only their noisy house-dogs gave signs of life as we passed. Once or twice we had to rouse a sleeping worthy out of bed for directions about the road. At last camp-fires gleamed through the woods; presently we caught the hum of soldiers' talk ahead; by the roadside we passed a house where all the lights were out, but the family were huddled on the door-step, listening to the soldiers. “Yes, the army's right down there. If you want to stay all night, turn up by the school-house. ‘Squire Durboraw's a nice man.” “Right down there” was the post-village of Two Taverns--thronged with soldiers — the women all in the streets, talking and questioning and frightening themselves at a terrible rate. A corps general's headquarters had been there today, but they were now moved up to the front. That didn't look like serious disaster. We were four miles and a quarter or a half from the line of battle. Ewell had come down from York, and we had been fighting him to-day. A. P. Hill was also up, coming by way of Chambersburgh or Hagerstown. Longstreet was known to be on the way, and would certainly be here to-morrow. The reserves were on their way. In short, Lee's whole army was rapidly concentrating at Gettysburgh, and to-morrow, it seemed, must bring the battle that is to decide the invasion. To-day it had opened for us--not favorably. “‘Squire Durboraw is a nice man.” We roused him out of bed, where he must have been for two or three hours. “Can you take care of us and our horses till morning?” “I will do it with pleasure, gentlemen.” And no more words are needed. The horses are housed in one of those great horse-palaces these people build for barns; we are comfortably and even luxuriously quartered. If the situation is as we hope, our army must attack by daybreak. At any rate, we are off for the field at four in the morning.
Ii. The repulse on Wednesday, First July.
Field of battle, near Gettysburgh, July 2.