CAMPAIGNING TO NO PURPOSE.

The ruins of the burned armory of the United States were noticeable fromthe Maryland shore; also the masses of men moving in ceaseless tramp overthe long and almost crescent-like bridge. The murmur of many voices, themellow, abrupt call of the negro drivers to their mules, the glistening armsof the infantry reflected in the sunlight, the dull rumble of artillery wheelsand baggage-wagons, live in memory to-day as one of the pictures of “war’swrinkled front,” framed in the routine of more ordinary scenes.

The next day we were sent by rail back to Washington, and into campupon our old grounds. A few mornings afterward an inspection was ordered.It came with the usual hurry and parade. Knapsacks and equipments werein shining order; every musket, bayonet, and button, boot and belt, as brightas rubbing and fear of censure or police duty could make them. Inspectionover, the last jingle of ramrod in resounding musket was heard, and we weredismissed, with an intimation that on the morrow we were to go on a march.

The sun rose through the mists of the morning,— one of those quiet morn-ings when every sound is heard with distinctness. The waters of the Poto-mac were like a sheet of glass as we took up our line of march across theLong Bridge, mak-ing the old struc-ture shake with ourcadence step. Ourmoods varied: somelaughed and joked;some, in suppressedtones, talked withtheir comrades asto their destination.

Not much was saidabout fighting, butI, for one, did agreat deal of think-ing on that tendersubject.

After we passed

the fort, which commanded the bridge on the Virginia side, we encounteredone of the most powerful allies of the enemy, particularly during the winterand spring campaigns in Virginia, —mud. No country equals a Virginia roadfor mud. We struck it thick, and sometimes knee-deep. It was verily“heavy marching.” The foot sank insidiously into the mud, and came outagain reluctantly; it had to be coaxed, and while you were persuading yourleft, the willing right was sinking as deep. The noise of walking was likethat of a suction-pump when the water is exhausted.

The order was given, “Route step”; we climbed the banks of the road insearch of firm earth, but it couldn’t be found, so we went on pumping away,making about one foot in depth to two in advance. Our feet seeminglyweighed twenty pounds each. We carried a number six into the unknown

A CAMP OVEN. FROM A WAR-TIME SKETCH.

Air^l