it, and perhaps not more than one or two knew that it existed. But the belief that he never should return did not hold him back one instant. The duty nearest his hand he took up, and performed cheerfully and steadily to the end.
Newbern, North Carolina, November 21, 1862.... The men, except one company, are already in barracks, and I have been at work since we returned to what we now call home in trying to get them ventilated. The men begin to appreciate the savage discipline which cut all sorts of holes in their houses at Readville, and was instrumental in causing them to lie on bare boards; for here no straw is to be obtained even for the hospital, and it has proved an advantage that the men learned to do without it while at home. The blankets of the regiment, which were stored when we started from Washington, North Carolina, have not yet appeared. We left Washington, North Carolina, on Sunday, and had a very hot and toilsome march, through a wholly uninteresting country, till just before sunset, when there was a sort of prophetic halt, and word came back from the Colonel that two of our companies had been detached, and he thought that some of the stretcher-men had better be sent with them. . . . . Pretty soon cannon opened on one side, and continued for a time; then there was a pause, and we heard the rattle of musketry, and the hum of the balls as they whizzed over us. Only two or three volleys were fired, at least so far as I know; for I was soon engaged in attending to the wounded, two or three of whom were brought back on the stretchers. Our donkey-cart (containing medicines, instruments, and stretchers) was drawn up on one side of the road, the lanterns were lighted,—for it had become very dark,—and we established our first hospitals among some pines. By word from Dr. Green, this was changed to a small cottage of two rooms, nearer the creek. Such bedding as the mansion afforded was laid out in one of the rooms, and the men we brought were laid upon it. The house was small, and the only light outside came from an occasional lantern. One of our men lay dead at one end of the porch. He had been instantly killed by a shot through the head .... Pretty soon word came that our column had passed the creek, but that the enemy had some earthworks farther up the road. Then De Peyster was brought in, very badly wounded in the arm. After a consultation, it was decided that the arm must be removed. . . . . In the mean time the movement of