We have to-day almost forgotten the sweltering heat of a sun that seemed remorseless, beneath which, often with set teeth and sullen step, we trudged long marches; and the dust that almost smothered us, and that, hanging in the air above and about the marching column, for mile after mile marked its course; and the thirst that made our very footsteps thirsty; and the nights on picket, when sleep claimed us for its own, and could not have us, because duty and danger forced our eyelids to stay open, and our wits to keep alert. We have almost forgotten these; but we have not forgotten how sweeter and more refreshing than any nectar was the thirst-sweetened water of campaigning days.

We remember to-day almost with envy the sturdy appetite that made palatable and enjoyable even salt pork and hard-tack; the soundness and readiness with which we slept during the scant and broken hours when sleep was granted; and the vigor, high spirits, and virile health. which the out-door life and manly doing of campaigning days gave to us. We remember but dimly to-day the benumbing feeling and griping heartache with which, with zip and thud of bullet ringing in our ears, and whistle and song of shot and explosion of shell about us, we saw friend after friend struck down, and our lines melting away as if by sorcery. But we remember, not dimly, the exultant energy with which our cheers responded to Rebel yells, and the thrill with which a "charge home" was made; ay, and we remember, as of a yesterday, the watchfulness and controlled energy with which the low-voiced "Steady! steady! steady, men!" ever recurred in moment of battle, like a refrain let loose by the contact of forces.

Yes, war is a curse, and its incidents are tragedies; and yet, how has the kindly gift of memory softened to us the one, and mellowed the others, until we old soldiers can meet and talk of war days almost as our grandsires talked of the "good old days" when they were young!

The opening hours of a new campaign! Who of us can forget them? Or the sober thoughts of home and of dear ones, that pillowed us during the early hours of the night preceding a new campaign, — thoughts of the separation from all we loved this new campaign might bring to us; of the sorrow and suffering it might bring to them. And then out of the depths would come the hope, born of experience, that this new campaign, like the old campaigns, might do to us no vital wrong; and thence, hope rising, would come the thought that perhaps — ah, perhaps this new campaign might bring success, and a quick ending to the war; and perhaps would win for us a prized distinction; and then, with stirring thoughts of the coming morrow, how easily we sought and won the needed rest!

The morning of May 5, 1864, found the Army of the Potomac once more across the Rapidan River, in the Wilderness, and headed southward.

The winter had been exceptionally healthful; the strength of the army had been renewed by the return of thousands of those wounded at Chancellorsville and Gettysburg, and by the addition of many new recruits; and in health, in spirits, and in discipline, the Army of the Potomac had been never in better form for strong and stubborn work. Inured by constant service through three long years' campaigning, — in battles oft, and fightings many, it formed a body of trained soldiery whose power and readiness to do were limited only by the measure of mortal endurance and the ability of commanders to direct. Like a great machine of tried and tempered, well-adjusted parts, it was ready to be moved as one man willed, with the certainty of clock-work and the steadiness and force of veteran discipline.

Well for it, and well for us, was it that its parts were so truly tempered and so well adjusted; for ere yet that 5th of May should close, would be begun a battle, the like of which has no place in history, and the record of

which can be never told: a battle in a jungle, where trees and vines, hollows and hillocks, are so thickly placed that passage through is almost barred, and power of vision restricted to a "company's" front. company's" front. Here can be no generalship, no supporting of columns, no touching of lines, but each battalion must depend upon and care for itself.

In "The Wilderness," from the very characteristics of the ground, a battle must be what the battle of Shiloh by chance was, a succession of separate and undirected, unsupporting contests of regiment with regiment; a battle in which Nature multiplied the strength of defence, and made vantage of numbers of no avail.

And what was this "Wilderness," whose physical characteristics played so important a part in the Virginia campaign of 1864?

"The Wilderness," once a garden-spot in favored Virginia, one of its most fertile, productive, and choice of highly cultivated and valued sections, as land was cultivated and valued a hundred and fifty years ago, and later mined and worked for gold and silver, had been in process of time exhausted, both as to soil and mines, and finally abandoned.

In natural course, Nature had picked up this exhausted and abandoned land, and planted it with lavish hand to a growth, that in time became immense, of tree and vine. And at this time, in 1864, when man again wished to occupy, and temporarily to possess, the land which a hundred years ago man had used and thrown away, Nature's obstacles hindered and hurt the invading thousands in such way as history tells no like of in all its hundreds of years of memory.

Marked on its north and east by the Rapidan and Rappahannock rivers, and reaching south almost to Spottsylvania, and west to Mine Run, it covered a tract about twenty miles by twelve; but its densest part, its heart of hearts, was about eight by six miles, with the Wilderness Tavern for its centre.

The early morning of Thursday, May 5, 1864, found the Army of the Potomac, one hundred and one thousand strong, in the Wilderness and under marching orders. The cavalry under Sheridan had already, in the early night, moved with two divisions some fifteen miles to the southeast, to Hamilton's Crossing, south of Fredericksburg, on a search for Stuart and his cavalry; and the remaining one division about the same distance to the southwest, to and beyond Shady Grove Church. The Fifth Corps, under Warren, was under orders to move from Old Wilderness Tavern, on the Orange Court-House Turnpike, by a wood-road, across to Parker's Store, on the Orange Court-House Plank-Road, and thence to extend its right toward the Sixth Corps at Old Wilderness Tavern ; the Sixth Corps, under Sedgwick, to move from near Germanna Ford to Old Wilderness Tavern, and thence connect with the Fifth Corps on its left; and the Second Corps, under Hancock, from Chancellorsville (a name, by the way, notable for the battle of Chancellorsville there fought under General Hooker just one year before, which was lost because of its near vicinage to, and the entanglements of, the Wilderness), about six miles east. of Old Wilderness Tavern, was to move to Shady Grove Church, and thence to extend its right towards the Fifth Corps at Parker's Store.

Lee's whereabouts were unknown. It was known, however, that at noon of the day before, May 4th, he had been still in his winter intrenchments on the Rapidan, near Mine Run, with an army of between sixty thousand and seventy thousand men, and was then still facing the encampments we had so lately left. He was supposed to be now either advancing to meet us (which was considered not probable), or he was hurrying toward Richmond, so as to place himself between our advance and the Confederate capital.

That Grant and Meade expected Lee, finding his flank turned and our army getting in between him and his