Thursday, 16th. At five, P.M., we received marching orders, with instructions to “pack knapsacks,” and be ready to march immediately. At six, P.M., we struck tents, and in half an hour were marching, in company with the rest of the brigade, in the direction of Boonesboro’; and, after a short march of five miles, encamped for the night on the heights which form the banks of the Kentucky River, at nine o’clock in the evening.

Friday, 17th. We did not move from our camp until ten, A.M., owing to the delay necessary in crossing the river. The cavalry accompanying us commenced crossing early in the morning, and at ten, the Twelfth were ordered to fall in. After a march of a mile, we came upon the edge of the river, at the place of crossing, in time to see the last of the cavalry pass over. The river at this place was, perhaps, fifty rods in width, and the convenience for crossing were two scows, in each of which forty men could be taken over at once, and so shaped that our teams could drive on or off at either end. The river was not deep at this place, and the mode of propelling was by pushing with poles.

Some very amusing incidents occurred in connection with our passing over the Kentucky River. Some of the teams, consisting of a government wagon and four mules each, were in readiness, and crossed at the same time with our regiment. This was accomplished by ending the scow on shore, and driving the team on and into the forward part of the boat. The remaining space was filled with soldiers. The scow was pushed across, and, landing end on, the team was driven off. The manner of driving a mule team is this: The driver sits upon the near wheel mule, uses one rein, and by dint of some little hallooing, understood only by those versed in muleology, manages his team. The scows were barely wide enough to admit the wheels of the carriages, and it required no little degree of skill to drive on and off without accident. While driving one of the teams off, the near wheel mule, being crowded, jumped off the scow, throwing his rider head and ears under water. The man, upon gaining the surface, was soon ashore; and the mule, after floundering awhile, got a foothold on shore, and the wagon was drawn off. No harm done as we could see to either the mule or his driver.

The next team that crossed, the rider, hoping to profit by the misfortunes of the one in advance, dismounted and attempted to lead his team off. This time, crowding again, over goes one of the mules into the stream, back downwards, hanging in the harness, its head just out of water. This looked like a desperate case of broken legs, and death by drowning. After some little effort, however, the mule was loosed from the harness, the carriage was drawn off by the remaining three, and the unlucky one, through the combined efforts of half a dozen men, was finally drawn from the river, thoroughly drenched, otherwise, to all appearance, not damaged at all.

Ours was the third company across, and passing up the bank, we continued on half a mile, and rested there until the rest of the regiment joined us.

The Kentucky River at this place is bounded upon either side by a range of hills, near akin to mountains. As we approached the river previous to crossing, many novel and interesting scenes presented themselves to our view, reminding us of our journey across the Alleghanies, our first experience in such mountainous regions. From our camp, where we passed the night, upon the heights, the road to the ferry wound along the sides of the hills, and through ravines. In this way the river was gained by gradual and easy descent. As we left camp, the beautiful fields, the green hills, and grassy vales, disappeared; giving place to rough, precipitous hills, whose rocky sides presented quite a contrast to the scenes we left behind. As we neared the river, directly in front of us, and to the left upon the opposite side, was a ledge of limestone, rising from the surface of the water which washes its base, to a height of three hundred feet, in a nearly perpendicular line, its surface, with the exception of seams and crevasses, smooth and white as marble. This was an approximation to the grand and sublime, and to us, inexperienced in such scenes, a beautiful spectacle. The river rolling sluggishly along at this place, deeply imbedded in the hills, could not be seen by us until we were upon its very edge. At the place of crossing the road terminates; and at the opposite side is the terminus of the road, which approaches from the opposite direction. As we came upon the river, upon the same side are two or three houses, with barely arable land enough adjoining to make a garden spot for the occupants. Upon the other side, we found more buildings, and in the immediate vicinity of the ferry considerable land under cultivation.

While here, I learned we were in the immediate vicinity of where Daniel Boone lived. And it was here the first settlement of Kentucky by the whites commenced. I saw the spot where he built his fort, and where he managed to resist the attacks of the Indians, who had determined to eject him from his hermitage. I also filled my canteen from Boone’s Spring, so called in honor of the old hero. And as I took a draught from its clear waters, I thought how often he had visited the spot for a similar purpose, and wondered at the courage and perseverance of the man, who could exist in this lonely place, surrounded by hostile Indians; dependent alone upon his own resources, even for his own existence, with no other earthly reliance than his own strong arm, and felt I could do homage to the undaunted bravery and perseverance of the Kentucky pioneer.

We stopped one hour for the rest of the regiment to join us, and then began the slow and toilsome work of ascending the hills. It was a very warm day, and though resting often, the march was a tedious one. Before reaching the top, we halted for the rest of the brigade to come up. This was about two, P.M. Starting again, we soon reached the summit of the hills, and emerged once more into a country beautiful as the one we had left behind us. At the junction of the river road with the Lexington and Richmond pike, we rested two hours. At this place, Gen. Naglee and staff passed in advance of us, and selected our camp ground for the night. The spot selected was about three miles from this place, and four from Richmond. We reached it at seven, P.M. At six, P.M., while on our way, the Fourteenth Kentucky Cavalry passed us, begrimed with dust, and looking like war-worn veterans, as they really are. Their experience has been with the guerrillas that invest this State, and whom they fight with a vengeance. They had a look of determination, and I have no doubt rebels falling into their hands, find themselves in a tight place.

Saturday, the 18th, at seven in the morning, we started again, passing through Richmond at ten, A.M., and at eleven were resting on our camping ground, two miles beyond. Upon this ground, and in the vicinity, the battle of Richmond was fought, August 30, 1862, in which the Federals were defeated, losing 150 killed and 350 wounded. Gen. Munson was taken prisoner, and Gen. Nelson was severely wounded in this engagement. The trees about here bore marks of the struggle which ensued. Many of the branches were torn off, and in the trunk of one large cherry tree, I counted seven ball holes. It was a desperate struggle against odds, the enemy outnumbering us four to one. One of the boys, while we were here, brought a shell in, which he picked up in the vicinity of our camp. It was quite a curiosity, suggestive of the time when it was sent on its murderous errand, eight months before. We were pleasantly situated here, and enjoyed ourselves.

Just after our arrival here, two sutlers commenced visiting us, and in the absence of competition, charged exorbitant prices. One day seeing a large crowd around one of the teams, I went up. Found the owner busy selling oranges at ten cents a piece, and cider at ten cents a glass. Apples in the same proportion. And while delivering from the front of the wagon, the soldiers, unbeknown to him, at the same time had tapped a barrel in the rear, and were doing a brisk business, filling canteens, &c. Soon after I heard an uproar, and was just in time to see his wagon tipped over, and his groceries distributed. Knowing the other sutler was in camp with gingerbread, the price of which was twenty-five cents for three pieces, about the size of my hand, I felt anxious to learn his fate. I had not long to wait, as I soon saw one side of a wagon rise in the air, the owner jump from it, and gingerbread flying in all directions. This had a tendency to lower the prices, and since then no outrages of the kind have been perpetrated, as it has not been necessary to repeat the experiment.