river to-night. This order is countermanded, however, in consequence of the supposed discovery of a favorable way to turn the enemy's left. Their line of works extended quite across the peninsula, from Cape Fear River to Myrtle Sound.

Sunday, February 12. - Ordered to move at dark up the beach on the outside of Myrtle Sound, to a narrow place in the sound about eight miles above us, where boats are to be held in readiness to transport us across the sound and in rear of the rebel lines. We move just after sundown, the wind blowing a gale from the northeast, as searching and cold a blast as I ever felt. We march in silence, and for the first hour in darkness, guiding ourselves by the line of surf. The moon rises just as we are passing the enemy's picket fires and in full view of them, the low sand beach not covering us from their view. The sand driving with the wind cuts like a knife and adds much to the unpleasantness of the night. The enemy takes no notice of us, as we are out of musket range and the sound intervening between us. We march about four miles, when we get orders recalling us. No reason given for the change, so I suspect that the boats could not be put around on account of the surf. We get back to camp about midnight, chilled through. Find part of our tents blown down by the gale, the sand not holding the tent-pins well. We rode horses borrowed from General Terry and his command, our horses not being landed yet.

Monday, February 13. - Quiet in camp; the raw, cold weather continues. No wagons for our division have yet arrived, and we are consequently at a great disadvantage in regard to movements of all sorts.

Tuesday, February 14. - A movement up the beach is again ordered for to-night, with the modification that the boats, instead of being sent around by water, will be taken up with us along the shore on trucks. The wind to-day threatened to be as bad as it was Sunday.

Wednesday, February 15. - We started last night at dark and found the pontoons were very slow in getting up even with our lines. A division of Terry's command preceded mine, having the pontoons in charge. The train became much scattered before it reached our advanced line of works, and part of the boats did not get any farther. It was nearly midnight when the train reached the Half-Moon Battery, about a mile in front of our line, and where our outer picket is placed. We got about a mile beyond this on our former trip, and on this occasion we succeeded in getting about a mile farther than then. Only eighteen of the boats could be got up, and it became evident that no crossing could be effected before daylight, even if the rest of the boats could be got up by that time. It also appeared that the enemy was on the qui vive, and we could see their camp-fires on the other side of the sound. As we had not boats enough to make a bridge, and the appearance was that the passage would be disputed, General Schofield again determined to give up the plan, and we countermarched to camp, getting back about 2. 30 o'clock in the morning. The weather was pleasanter than we had reason to expect, for it grew mild all night and ended by raining hard this morning. The clouds partly concealed the moon, but it seems to me impossible that the enemy should not have seen us, as the strip of sand is so narrow and the line of surf makes such a white background for the dark masses of the moving column. My own preference would have been to give up the movement as soon as it was evident that the pontoons would be behind time, so as not to let the enemy have any idea of the movement, which from that time [was] certain to prove a failure. I suspect, however, that the plan was a suggestion of Colonel Comstock,