IN THE BANKS TO THE ANTIETAM.

BY DAVID L. THOMPSON, CO. G, 9TII NEW YORK VOLUNTEERS.

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A DISORGANIZED PRIVATE. FROM A PHOTOGRAPH.

O N the 5th of Sep-tember, 18 62, Ha w-kins' Zouaves, as apart of Burnside’scorps, from Fred-ericksburg, landedat Washington toassist in the defenseof the capital, thenthreatened by Lee’sfirst invasion ofMaryland , and, asevents proved, tojoin in the purs uit ofthe invaders. Here,in pursuance of ameasure for short-ening the baggagetrain which hadlately been decided on, we were deprived of ourSibley tents — those cumbersome, conical caravan-saries, in which eighteen men lie upon the groundwith their feet toward the center.

Shelter tents came soon to replace the “ Sibleys,”and with them came marching orders — the armywas moving west. At dusk we set up our newhouses. A shelter or dog tent is like a bargain —it takes two to make it. Each man is providedwith an oblong piece of thick, unbleached muslinabout the length of a man — say six feet—and two-thirds as wide, bordered all round with buttonsand button-holes alternately matching respectivelythe button-holes and buttons of his comrade’s piece.To set it up, cut two crotched stakes, each aboutfour feet long, point them at the uncrotcbed end,and drive them into the ground about six feetapart; cut a slender pole to lie horizontally fromone crotch to the other, button the two pieces ofmuslin together and throw the resulting piece overthe pole, drawing out the corners tight and pinningthem down to the ground by means of little loopsfastened in them. You will thus get a wedge-shaped structure — simply the two slopes of anordinary roof—about three and a half feet high atits highest point, and open at both ends. This willaccommodate two men, and in warm, pleasantweather is all that is needed. In rainy weather athird man is admitted. A piece of rope about fourfeet long is then tied to the top of one of the stakesand stretched out in the line of direction of theridge pole, the free end being brought down to theground and pinned there. The third man then but-tons his piece of muslin to one slope of the roof,carries the other edge of the piece out around thetightened rope and brings it back to the edge ofthe other slope, to which it is buttoned. This thirdpiece is shifted from one end of the tent to theother, according to the direction of the wind orstorm. You thus get an extension to your tent inwhich knapsacks can be stored, leaving the rest ofthe space clear for sleeping purposes. This is largeenough to accommodate three men lying side by side.

But will such a structure keep out rain ? Certainly,just as your umbrella does—unless you touch it onthe inside when it is soaked. If you do, the rain willcome in, drop by drop, just where you have touchedit. To keep the water from flowing in along thesurface of the ground, dig a small trench aboutthree inches deep all around the tent, close up, sothat the rain shed from the roof will fall into it.Such a house is always with you potentially, foryou carry the materials on your back and can snapyour fingers at the baggage wagon. For three-fourths of the year it is all the shelter needed, asit keeps out rain, snow, and wind perfectly, beingpenetrable only by the cold.

We marched at last, and on the 12th of Septem-ber entered Frederick , wondering all the way whatthe enemy meant. We of the ranks little sus-pected what sheaves he was gathering in at Har-per’s Ferry , behind the curtain of his main bod}'.We guessed, however, as usual, and toward even-ing began to get our answer. He was right ahead,his rear-guard skirmishing with our advance. Wecame up at the close of the fight at Frederick ,and, forming line of battle, went at double-quickthrough cornfields, potato patches, gardens, andbackyards—the German waslier-women of the3 03d New York regiment going in with us on therun. It was only a measure of precaution, how-ever, the cavalry having done what little therewas to do in the w'ay of driving out of the city aConfederate rear-guard not much inclined to stay.We pitched tents at once in the outskirts, and aftera hearty supper went to explore the city.

The next morning the feeling of distrust whichthe night before had seemed to rule the place haddisappeared, and a general holiday feeling tookits place. The city was abloom with flags, houseswere open everywhere, trays of food were set onthe window-sills of nearly all the better class ofhouses, and the streets were filled with womendressed in their best, w'alking bareheaded, sing-ing, and testifying in every way the general joy.September 1 3th in Frederick City was a brightone in memory for many a month after—a pleas-ant topic to discuss over many a camp-fire.

The next day our regiment went on a reconnois-sanee to a speck of a village, rather overweightedby its name,—Jefferson,—about eight miles fromFrederick and on our left. Far up the mountain-side ahead of us we could see, in the fields con-fronting the edge of the woods that crowned theridge, the scattered line of Rush’s Lancers, theirbright red pennons fluttering gayly from their spearheads.

We reached camp again about 3 0 o’clock atnight, and found awaiting us marching ordersfor 2 o’clock the follow'ing morning. Late as itwas, one of my tent-mates—an enterprising youngfellow — started out on a foraging expedition, inpursuance of a vow made several days before tofind something with which to vary his monotonousregimen of “hard-tack” and “salt horse.” He

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