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Sept. 15 and 16. Am officer of the guard. Rodes' Division, composed of Daniel's and Ramseur's North Carolina brigades, Doles' Georgia, and Battle's Alabama brigades, were marched out to witness a melancholy sight, the public shooting of one of Ramseur's brigade, who was convicted of desertion by a court martial and sentenced to be shot to death by musketry. It was a sad sight, but his death was necessary as a warning and lesson to his comrades. Each regiment was marched in front of the dead body, and his breast was pierced by several balls. On return to camp we found two of my men, George Ward and Dick Noble, had been on a scout across the river, and captured a Yankee, and carried him to General Rodes, and secured a splendid pistol and seven shooting rifles. Heard Rev. Dr. Leonidas Rosser, corps chaplain, deliver an eloquent lecture to our Christian Association on ‘Patriotism, Benevolence and Religion.’

(note.—Several pages of the ‘Diary,’ from 15th September to October 8th, were lost and of course omitted here.)

October 8, 1863. I drew from Quartermaster J. M. Pickens, 15 envelopes, one quire of letter paper, half quire of note and half quire of foolscap paper, and five pens. Such things are growing scarce. Lieutenants F. A. Rogers and Jno. R. Williams, of Co. ‘A,’ were promoted Captain and First Lieutenant of said company, and Lieutenant John Rogers, of Co. ‘E,’ promoted Captain. At 3 P. M. we were ordered to ‘pack up,’ and marched until 9 P. M., and camped near Dr. Terrell's, 4 miles from Orange C. H.

October. 9. At 4 o'clock A. M. we marched through Orange, waded the Rapidan river, and bivouacked three miles from Madison C. H. Here our ‘spider wagon,’ as the North Carolina ‘Tar Heels’ call our cooking utensil wagon, failed to come up, and we had to ‘make up’ our flour, water and salt on oil cloths, and bake before the fires on gun ramrods, sticks, rails, &c., and after salting our beef, hung on poles before the fire until cooked. We were all hungry and ate heartily of our beef and bread.

October 10. Continued our march through by roads and old fields and new roads cut by the ‘pioneer’ squads through the woods until we came to the Sperryville turnpike, eleven miles from Culpeper C. H.

October 11. We waded across Robinson river, as it is called, and occupied an old camp of the Sixth (Yankee) Army Corps. It was on a high bleak hill, where the winds blew constantly and fiercely,

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