"I hope not."

"Don't hope anything about it, Tom. Take things as they come."

But the impatience of the soldier boy was soon relieved; for at daylight
on the morning of the 16th of July, the regiment was routed out, the tents
were struck, and at nine o'clock they took up the line of march to the
southward. It was "on to Richmond," in earnest, now, and merrily marched
the men, who little knew what trials and sufferings, what scenes of blood
and death, lay in their path.

The little colonel's command had been put in Franklin's brigade, which
formed a part of Heintzelman's division; but little did Tom or his
fellow-soldiers know of anything but their own regiment. The "sacred soil"
of Virginia seemed to be covered with Federal soldiers, and whichever way
he turned, columns of troops might be seen, all obedient to the one grand
impulse of the loyal nation--"On to Richmond."

The great wagons, gun carriages, and caissons rolling slowly along, the
rattling drums, with here and there the inspiring strains of a band, the
general officers, with their staffs, were full of interest and excitement
to the soldier boy; and though the business before him was stern and
terrible, yet it seemed like some great pageant, moving grandly along to
celebrate, rather than win, a glorious triumph.

The novelty of the movement, however, soon wore away, and it required only
a few hours to convince the inexperienced soldiers in our regiment that it
was no idle pageant in which they were engaged. The short intervals of
rest which were occasionally allowed were moments to be appreciated. All
day long they toiled upon their weary way, praying for the night to come,