How often at home, when with the toil and care incident upon the life of those who “earn their bread by the sweat of the brow,” have we as Saturday night approached, and with it the labors of the week were to cease, looked forward to a day of rest. A thousand miles from home, the plough exchanged for the sword, the awl for the bayonet, in the face of a desperate enemy, and the thing is changed.

The Sabbath comes as at home, but unfortunately, is more “honored in the breach than the observance,” and seems to be a day specially appointed by military authorities, for fighting and marching. We received marching orders Saturday, 2d, and were to be in readiness to march the following morning. As is usual with us the night before a march, all was bustle and confusion. Some were busy packing their effects, others talking, each man having to express his opinion as to where we were to go, the chances for a fight, &c. Another portion, who at other times deny themselves, were indulging in liquor, the result of which was a general howling, extending into the small hours of the night.

The night before our march from Lexington, a portion of the men went to the city, had a plenty to drink, and some of them returned with canteens filled. The consequence was, a riotous night, and but little sleep was to be had. The men quarrelled among themselves, and to cap the climax, at two in the morning, one of the men from the company adjoining, visited Company F, and indulged in a little shillalah practice. Swinging to the right and left, much to the discomfiture of one of our men, who received a blow on the top of his head, which, judging from the sound, might have felled an ox. He was rendered hors de combat, and taken to the surgeon; and after this salutary lesson, the boys thinking best to keep still, we got a few hours sleep. The noisy ones of Company F were christened “lions.” The name originated in Camp Casey, where they occupied two of our Sibley tents, on the left of the line, and by their continual howling, made “night hideous.”

Saturday, May 2d, at nightfall, the uproar commenced as usual. At ten I turned in. I kept napping, waking, and sleeping by turns, until two in the morning. At this time, a party in front of my tent were having an altercation which threatened to terminate in a fight. I thought best to see what was going on. Looking out of my hotel, I saw J. R., the same individual who officiated at Lexington, with club raised, threatening to lay it about the ears of his opponent, who was daring him to come on. Friends interfered, preventing them from coming to blows, and after a bad amount of cursing and hard talk, during which the whole regiment were disturbed, they were separated, and quiet reigned again. The immediate results of this night’s carousal, were visible to all in the person of one of our drummers, who had indulged beyond his strength, and was found lifeless in his tent, the morning of the 3d, having “shuffled off this mortal coil” in the melee.

The morning of the 3d of May found us busy, preparing for the march, regardless of the storm, which was evidently about to open upon us. At eight we were on our way. It commenced raining slightly before we left camp, and after our first rest outside of Richmond at ten, A.M., it commenced in earnest. We hurried on, and at one, P.M., were encamped at Point Lick Creek, having marched a distance of thirteen miles in four hours. Some of the time while on this march, the rain poured in torrents, and we reached camp thoroughly soaked. Soon after our arrival the sun came out, the clouds passed away, and we had a pleasant afternoon. This gave us a chance to roll and tumble upon the grass, dry ourselves, and put up tents at our leisure. Our camp was situated on the road which runs from Richmond to Lancaster, and was about midway between the two places. It was evident our stay here would be short, as the usual care in laying out camps was not observed here, our tents being pitched in all conceivable ways. Our general formed his head-quarters some twenty rods east of our camp, close by a church. This edifice had been built but a short time, was small, of modern style, without a steeple, and very much resembled a New England school-house.

From the time of our arrival here, up to Saturday the 9th, the weather was very disagreeable. Considerable rain fell, and for six days we were enveloped in clouds and fog. But in spite of all this, our general and his staff had frequent visits from the fair ones of Richmond, whose acquaintance they formed during our short sojourn there. They came in groups of half a dozen at a time. The band was called on to serenade the fair visitors, who forming with our officers upon the green in front of the church, joined in the mazy dance, and “tripped the light fantastic toe.”