but in that instant I caught it, first in the right leg, then through the left foot, and in that same instant the enemy were upon us, or rather upon me, for what was left of my company had gone with the rest. Though staggering, I had not yet fallen, when one rushed up, aimed at my head with “Surrender, G—d d—n your soul!” which I did. But if I had known then, what now I know, I would have lain there for dead till they were gone, and then dragged myself slowly toward our side. [This refers to the fact that one of the first pleasing pieces of information communicated to me by my captors, who were surprised that I did not already know it, was that, by special orders of Jeff. Davis, none of Pope’s officers were to be treated as prisoners of war or paroled, but kept as hostages to be hanged from time to time in retaliation for any such execution of guerrillas as was threatened in Pope’s celebrated orders, of which we then had not yet heard.]

But as it was [the journal resumes], I gave up my sword and pistol, sat down, borrowed my captor’s knife, ripped my trousers open and shoe off, and examined damages. An awful hole in foot and little one in leg, at the bottom of which the bullet was plainly visible. Seeing this, the Confederate gentleman to whom I then belonged was seized with a desire to perform a surgical operation with the knife referred to, but yielded to my remonstrance and request that he would be satisfied with having put it in, and allow some gentleman of the medical staff to undertake the bullet’s extraction. Two of them then offered to take me across the wheat-field to where their own wounded were, asking me at the same time what money I had for them. They did not offer any violence or undertake to search me. Had they done so, they would have made prize of my money-belt, containing over $90 in greenbacks and a gold watch. I gave them some ten or twelve gold dollars which I had in my pocket, reserving one by great good luck, as will presently appear. Then they carried me across the field, with each arm affectionately round a rebel neck. As I passed the fence where the right had been, there lay poor Ned,—who half an hour before had joked about being two hours in action without losing a man,—with white, waxen face against the dead leaves. It was just light enough for me to recognize him. Who else of the officers had fallen, I did not know, save that Cary was down, as Pattison had told me, before our lines gave way. With occasional halts, they carried me across the field, and put me down among a groaning mass of wounded of both sides. The men next me gave me water and a knapsack for my head, a man came along with a canteen of whiskey and I got a drink. The moon rose full over the trees, and the cannonade recommenced. I got a piece of the wounded rebel’s blanket next me over my shoulder, lay as near him as I could; for, though the day had been blazing, the night mist and loss of blood made me shiver; and I slept. Once I was waked by some one attempting to pull off my seal ring; but he desisted when I pulled my hand away, remarked, “A handsome ring,” and went on. Very likely he thought me dead, as my companion under the blanket was by that time.

Before daylight, the pain of my shattered bones brought me again to consciousness. Somehow, I hated to see the sky begin to brighten, knowing how soon the sun would blaze furiously down upon us. And yet I didn’t seem to realize the horrors of the position, but looked upon myself as acting a part for which I had expected to be cast, and with the stage business of which I was perfectly familiar; and all the wounded took it more or less as a business matter. As the sun rose, I gradually dragged myself under trees with the rest of the groaning set, leaving those who had died to sleep it out. A rebel soldier passed with two canteens on. “What will you sell me one of those canteens for?” said I. “I’ll give you a dollar.” He laughed and was passing on. “A gold dollar,” said I. He stopped: “What, Yank! Have you got a gold dollar?” “Yes,” said I, “you go to the branch, fill the canteen with fresh water, and here’s the dollar.” If he had been a wretch, he might have taken it away and left me to die, for there was no one else near except wounded; but, after considering a few minutes, he went off to the stream, filled the canteen, brought it to me, took the dollar, and left. And that canteen, I think, saved my life; for soon the sun rose so that no more shade could be had. I tore up my handkerchief, bound my wounds, and kept them moist, kept the canteen under me and took little sips when my thirst became unbearable, and so got through the day, making the water last until evening. By and by, they began to pick up the wounded by threes and pairs, in ambulances. When, however,—I should think about 3 P.M.,—there were about five or six of us left, and I the only Yankee, a sudden rush of men through the woods and stampede of wagons down the road, with an accompaniment of “Yankees are coming!” swept every sound man away from us. Every man that had legs used them at double quick. Then the prayers of the wounded to the wagoners, as they flogged their teams past: “Oh, take me away from here, help me into a wagon; for God’s sake, don’t leave me to the Yankees!” One poor fellow, all of whose clothes had been taken off by the surgeon engaged on his wounds, raised himself, stark naked and covered with blood, against a tree, and implored every teamster in turn to stop and take him in. The effect was grisly. It struck me that, if they were really coming, some of the rebs then rushing by might take occasion to settle one Yankee “en passant”: so I got my blouse off, covered myself with dead rebel sergeant’s coat, and lay low. A section of artillery extricated itself from the wagons, and wheeled into battery; and, finding myself just in point-blank range, I succeeded by painful endeavor in getting behind a big stump.

But, alas! the excitement subsided, the wagons were stopped and ordered back, officers cursed the originators of the panic, and it was all over. But a real charge or a few shots just then would have started “secesh” with a rush, and saved the captain of Company E, Second Massachusetts Volunteers. After awhile, an ambulance came and picked up the last two of us and carried us to where the hospital flies were pitched. My driver, after making sure that nobody heard him, informed me that he had always been for the Union, and voted against “secesh”; “and when they started this war,” said he, “I swore they’d have to fight it out without me; but I was wrong there, for they’ve got me.” He drove me up to a fly under which were some dozen or twenty wounded on hospital cots. At first, they said there was no room; but then somebody discovered that his neighbor was dead, and suggested that the Yankee might take his place. So they moved the dead man out under the eaves inside the guys, and gave me the cot. The surgeon examined and bound up my foot, relieving me with the assurance that it would probably stay on, though I should be always lame. The bullet came out of my leg very easily, for, oddly enough, it hadn’t pierced my drawers, but had carried them deep into the leg in a sort of bag. A thunder-storm now burst upon us, and with the first gust down came our house, over living and dead. After a long staggering and flapping, they got her set again. The rain thundered on the canvas and cascaded in sheets over the dead man under the eaves, but he was beyond even water cure. The scene was dismal: in the intervals of rain, they took to burying legs and arms upon the hill, and it would not have made a bad slide for a stereoscope, on the whole. But, as night fell, I took my supper with some relish,—a piece of hard-tack and ham, given me by a rebel private on the