"Belike sad eyes with tearful strain, Gazed northward very wistfully For him that ne'er would come again."
The next morning broke cold and threatening. We resumed our march and had proceeded but a few miles when the rain began to fall. Later in the day it came down in torrents, and the wind was blowing gales. About dark, in the midst of this storm, we were halted in a large hickory grove on the side of the Blue Ridge, near the small village of Upperville. Our men comprehended the situation at once, and, though thoroughly drenched and chilled, soon had their axes ringing in the forest, and large log fires were ablaze over the camp. The storm continued with fury all night, to sleep was impossible, and we were forced to pass the most disagreeable night we had ever experienced.
On the 29th we retraced our steps to Paris. On the following morning, acting as an escort to a foraging party, we proceeded to Middleboro. At night we returned to camp, rich in wagon loads of corn and provender, also securing a large lot of fine beeves. On the next day, leaving Paris, we moved by way of Salem in the direction of Culpepper Court-House, which place we reached on the 2d of November, and remained there until the 4th. Sergeant Harper Lindsay, while here, accepted the position of adjutant of the 45th North Carolina regiment, and Sergeant Chas. Campbell was promoted to orderly sergeant in his stead.
On the night of the 4th, after a tiresome day's march, we went into camp on the top of Cedar Mountain. We were halted on a bleak and barren hill with no fuel within our reach. Col. Cooke, under the circumstances, suspended "special orders" in reference to destroying private property, and gave the men permission to burn the rails from the fences near by. For this necessary disobedience some spiteful person reported him and he was placed in arrest, from which he was released next day without a court martial. After our company had made its fires and were busy trying to make a supper from their scanty rations, I strolled over to Cooke's headquarters and found him sitting moodily over _his_ fire of _rails_. We began to discuss the officers of the brigade, and while he was idly turning a splinter he held in his fingers, it fell from his hand and stuck upright in the ground. He turned quickly to me, slapped me on the back and laughingly said: "John, that is an omen of good luck." I surmised to what he had reference--a probability of his promotion had been whispered--and replied, I did not take much stock in splinters, but I hoped in this instance the omen might be realized. In a few moments, several men from the regiment, with their canteens, passed near us and one of them, a lank, lean soldier, inquired of Cooke if he could tell him where the spring of water was. With some irritability in his tone he replied, "_No_, go hunt for it." The thirsty questioner, possibly recognizing him, made no reply, but turned away thinking, no doubt, under other circumstances, he would have answered him differently. The soldier had gone but a short distance when Cooke called him back, apologized for his hasty speech and indifference, and informed him kindly where he could find the water.