Dear Mary,-

We moved as I wrote you. We left the Camp at Pleasant Valley yesterday, leaving the sick behind, marched to Harpers Ferry, crossed the Pontoon Bridge, marched through the Ferry up London Mountain and camped on the Heights. We marched about five miles to the south from our old Camp. There was general movement of the army and we hear sharp firing going on at the south of us. We are within a mile of the enemies' picket. We are out on the same duty. Will was out yesterday on a scout and has gone again today. He is called one of our best men. We have been having our Indian Summer. Last night I lay down on the ground with no covering, but with my overcoat on slept warm enough. I like the climate here but do not like the inhabitants or their log houses. The inhabitants are indolent and look as if they were not more than half civilized. You will see by this date that it is the Sabbath. As I am on duty I cannot attend Service today. While I was at my post last night I thought of what your Uncle Leonard Wells said I would the last time we were to see him. He said I would think of you some night when the moon was shining brightly and think it was for you as well as for me. I thought of this and that we received light from the same moon and the same sun and were under the same protecting care of the same God and why should I feel so lonely although so far from home and loved ones. Will has just come is from his scout and reports that a company of rebel cavalry came across the river and tried to surround the house where his party were getting dinner, but they were too quick for them. I saw them half a mile distant. They caused quite an excitement in Camp. I do not think they will come very near, but will try to pick up scouting parties.