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the knoll, the dead, the dying, the wounded, protected by the very men they had been fighting, and who were as ready then as they had ever been to defend by their strong arms every right these self-made enemies of theirs had ever enjoyed.
Every attention was shown the enemy's wounded by our surgeons.
Limbs were amputated, wounds were dressed with the same care with which our own brave volunteers were treated.
The wound on the battle-field removed all differences — in the hospital all were alike, the objects of a common humanity that left none beyond its limits.
Among the enemy's wounded was a young Massachusetts boy, who had received a wound in the leg. He had been visiting in the South, and had been impressed into the rebel ranks.
As soon as the battle began, he broke from the rebel ranks and attempted to run down the hill and cross over to our side.
His own lieutenant saw him in the act, and shot him with a revolver!
Listen to such a tale as that I did, by the side of the sad young sufferer, and tell me if your blood does not boil warmer than ever before, as you think, not of the poor deluded followers, but of the leaders, who, for personal ambition and personal spite, began this infernal rebellion.
All the talk among the soldiers is still the retailing of facts and anecdotes about this battle.
I have room or time to add but one or two.
In one of the Indiana regiments is a Methodist preacher who is said to be one of the very best shots of his regiment.
During the battle he was particularly conspicuous for the zeal with which he kept up a constant fire.
The 14th Ohio regiment in the thick of the fight fired an average of eleven rounds to every man, but this parson managed to get in a great deal more than that average.
He fired carefully, with perfect coolness, and always after a steady aim, and the boys declare that every time, as he took down his gun, after firing, he added, “And may the Lord have mercy on your soul!”
Evidently he thought the body not worth praying for after the aim he had so carefully taken.
Per contra: One of Steedman's men (in the 14th Ohio) was from Cheesedom, and didn't like the irreverent tone adopted by the southern chivalry in speaking of the “d — d Yankees.”
He took deliberate aim, but, unlike the parson, after every fire he added the invariable formula, “God d — n your secession souls, how do you like the Yankees?”
Another, an Englishman, was wounded.
Steedman noticed him limping and called out “Jack, are you wounded?”
“Yes, I'm ‘it.”
“Where are you hit, Jack?”
“Oh, I'm ‘it in the ‘ip, but--(in great anxiety lest Steedman should send him to the hospital) but it don't ‘urt me. I'm only ‘it in the ‘ip; it don't ‘urt me,” and away he blazed with another load, somewhat profanely adding, “God d — n you, I guess I paid you off that time.”
Agate.
Cincinnati Commercial narrative.
I have a dismal recollection of a dreary, weary, forced march of nineteen miles over almost impassable mountain roads, mud knee-deep, with a steady heavy rain falling all the way and terminating in a fierce engagement of half an hour, the total rout of the rebels, and the death of General Robert S. Garnett, Adjutant General of the State of Virginia, and commander in the Confederate army in Western Virginia, of whom all that is mortal lies but a few feet from our tent.
The right of our division proceeded to within nine miles of Beverly, where Capt. Benham, who commands the advance, ascertained at the village of Leedsville, that the rebels, after proceeding nearly to Beverly, and finding the road blocked by McClellan's advance, united with those that had been routed at Rich Mountain, and turned back and struck off on the Leading Creek Pike, half a mile this side of Leedsville, and were moving in the direction of St. George, Tucker County.
We had tracked the rebels thus far easily.
For three miles from their camp the road was literally shingled with cards.
The trumps were against them, and they had thrown down their hands.
Every few rods we found stacks of tent poles, tents, blankets, and other camp equipages, which they had thrown out of their wagons and off their shoulders, to lighten their burdens and facilitate their retreat.
Several wagons had got off the track, and were found upside down in the gorges of the mountains.
The right of our column turned off on the road the rebels had taken, and after proceeding some two miles halted for the night.
The rear came up in a couple of hours with only four provision wagons.
In the haste of starting most of our troops had left their haversacks behind.
The supply of crackers averaged about one to each man; a little salt pork was served out, the men generally cutting it in thin slices, distributing it as far as it would go, and eating it raw with their crackers.
Hundreds, however, went supperless to their bivouack in the bushes, lying down on their arms, and sleeping soundly.
We were under way in the morning by three o'clock. The sky was overcast and the weather cold.
A drizzling mist commenced falling, which, in an hour or two, turned into a steady, chilling rain, the clouds pouring down their burden in such torrents as you are accustomed to in a June thunder shower.
We forded Leading Creek twice, and by the time we reached the miserable little village of New Interest, at the foot of Laurel Mountains, (another range of the Alleghanies, from which the Laurel Hill range is a mere spur,) there was not a dry thread in our clothing.
Every hair on our heads became a safe conduit for the descending bounty of Jupiter Pluvius.
Passing the village a few miles we struck directly over the
