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Camp near Sharpsburg, Md.,July 15, 1863.

WE AREnow lying in camp with a promise of remaining all day. Not a word have I had from you for many a day. We move so often and travel so fast that we cannot complain if the mail wagon doesn’t catch up with us. The rebels have escaped across the river out of the net we boys fondly hoped had been thrown around their army, and now we are anticipating another series of hard marches. Yesterday morning our skirmishers advanced upon the rebel positions and found them abandoned and the rebels across the river. This morning the Thirds Corps started at six o’clock and marched until two in the afternoon with but one halt of a very few minutes for rest. You can be sure the man andhorse who set the pace at the head of the column came in for the usual amount of cussing. The day, although cloudy, was very hot, and the road was lined with stragglers.

We came pretty near having a wild riot here this afternoon. We were no sooner in camp than a sutler pitched his tent close by and opened up for trade. Pretty soon there was a big crowd around his establishment, and some of the lawless began to steal and pilfer. He very naturally tried to protect his property, and soon there was a wild tumult. It looked as if the guard that had been posted would have their hands full to save any part of his gingersnaps and cheese. The major of the Sixth New York Heavy Artillery, a young bud with shoulder-straps as big as a barn door, rushed down from their camp, near by, and made himself conspicuous. His regiment had never seen active service, having done garrison duty at Baltimore and Harper’s Ferry, and when he ordered the dirty old fighting men to go to their regiments it was like waving a red flag before a bull. One of our small boys—a camp follower—told him to go to H—ot Place. The major made a reach for the boy and missed connection, then foolishly chased him into our camp, and caught him. Then somebody knocked the major down, and somebody else picked him up and pitched him out of camp. In a few minutes his regiment was seen to be falling in, under arms, whereupon the Sixth New Jersey bugles sounded the “Assembly,” and every other bugle in the brigade caught up the call. Just at this time General French came tearing up, who listened to the major’s story and bluffly told him he had no business or authority in that camp—and that was the end of it.

We passed over Antietam battleground today—where Hooker fought, and the bridge Burnside carried by a charge. I have a rebel roundabout, cartridge box, and plate with letters “C S” on it. I inclose an Indian arrow head I picked up in the road. It rains almost every day now, and we must go to work pretty soon and put up our shelter. Jess. Dewey, Bill Pendleton and I are hitching up together just now.

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