horses, broken caissons, bodies lying on the ground, and the wounded. On the front line these sights are not so prominent.

The regiment was pushed to the front and placed on picket duty, I being posted on the edge of a piece of woods overlooking a valley, on the opposite side of which was Slaughter Mountain, where Stonewall Jackson's army was supposed to be.

While at my post on picket that night, an incident occurred which made a deep impression upon me, doubtless due to the time and place and the incidents of the preceding two weeks. Before leaving home, I had promised my mother that I would read at least one verse in my Testament each day. Not having done so that day was due to the fact that we had been marching and to the excitement attending the reaching of the battlefield and being put in position. I then took out my pocket Testament and went to a picket fire near where I was, leaning over to read a verse or two by its light, when I heard a rustle in the bushes. Immediately I grasped my weapons and was on the alert, when a colored man crawled through the bushes and said to me, "What's that you got there, a Testament?" On admitting it, he said, "Do you know the chapter General Washington always used to read before he went into a fight?" I told him I did not, whereupon he said, "You turn to the Ninety-first Psalm." "Now," he said, "you read it." I then read aloud:

"Surely He shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler and from the noisome pestilence.

"He shall cover thee with His feathers and under His wings shalt thou trust; His truth shall be thy shield and buckler.

"Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night nor for the arrow that flieth by day.

"Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness, nor for the destruction that wasteth at noon day.

"A thousand shall fall at thy side and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee."

At the reading of each of these verses he exclaimed, "You see, he didn't get hit." The contraband evidently was perfectly sincere in the belief that if I read this verse before a battle I would never get hurt. He then went away. This incident, coupled with the facts that I had only been about ten days away from home, that I had seen the horrible sights of the battlefield the previous afternoon, that I could see the enemy's camp-fires across the valley, and that I was wondering what fate was in store for me the following day,—all tended to impress this incident upon my mind.

The next morning the regiment advanced to the Rapidan River, presumably with the object of searching for the flank of Jackson's army. Just above the ford, which I think was Robertson's, was the residence of the Confederate General Taliaferro. Our picket line was between the house and the river. Captain Walters of my regiment had arranged with Mrs. Taliaferro to have breakfast at her house. She and her niece were engaged in a good-natured altercation with some of the men of my company, she repeatedly remarking, "I want you men to understand that I am the granddaughter of Chief-Justice Marshall of the United States." When she had said this several times an Irishman of my company remarked, "And who the divil is he anyhow?" The disgust on her face may well be imagined. I had been polite in my remarks to her when she turned upon me and asked, "Aren't you from New Orleans?" I told her, "No," that I was from New York, when she shook her head sadly and said, "Well, I'm surprised that apparently such a nice young man as you should be engaged in such a wicked cause as this." The laughter of my comrades which greeted this remark was followed by their teasing me the rest of the campaign, calling me, "The nice young man and the wicked cause."

About this time the pickets began firing, when Captain Walters remarked, "I will go down and see what the matter is." He mounted his horse, started down the hill toward the ford, and in a moment or two was brought back dead, their sharpshooters having shot him through the heart immediately after he left the house. This was the first time I had heard bullets whistle.

That night Stonewall Jackson's movement to the flank and rear of Pope's army resulted in the recall of the cavalry and a night march through Culpeper to Brandy Station. We bivouacked for the night, but did not unsaddle. About daybreak we were attacked. Although I heard bullets whistle at the Rapidan River, where Captain Walters was killed, this was the first real engagement I was in. In the early part of it we were supporting the skirmish line. Later in the day the battalion in which my company was made a charge, led by Major Henry E. Davies, in which a number were killed and wounded, and some confusion ensued by reason of a railroad cut, into which the command rode, its existence not being known when the charge was ordered. Prior to this, in the retreating movements of that morning, my horse, which had become blind from the hard marching of the night before, fell in a ditch with me. He struggled out, and I was able to remount him, though we were quite hard pressed by the advancing enemy.

The Harris Light Cavalry was one of the regiments of General George D. Bayard's brigade, which for sixteen successive days was under fire and engaged in most arduous service in covering the retreat of Pope's army and watching the fords on the Rappahannock River to detect the crossing of General Lee's troops. This continuous service terminated with the second battle of Bull Run, where Lieutenant Compton, the only remaining officer with my company, was killed. This occurred the evening before the last day of the battle.

CHAPTER III

There had been some very severe fighting on the part of King's division. We approached the field from Manassas Junction, arriving about nine o'clock. As we were riding through this division, the men called out, "What regiment is that?" When we told them they arose and cheered us, for we had been with them on a former occasion. Then, as we were approaching the Centerville pike, Kilpatrick rode down the column calling out, "General MacDowell wants the Harris Light to take a battery." "Draw sabres." We drew sabres, put our cap bands under our chins, and turned into the pike, then to the left, moving a short distance, and then into a field, also on the left, forming in column of squadrons. It was then too dark to see any distance ahead. My position was within one or two of the flank of my company, where I heard Kilpatrick order my squadron to go out into the road to charge this battery, which we could not see. As we were not the last squadron in the column, which happened to be Captain Seymour's, he said, "Never mind, take the last one," which was fortunate for us. In a moment or two we heard the clatter of the horses' hoofs on the pike, and then saw a sheet of fire from the enemy's lines some distance ahead, which I understood was on the edge of a piece of woods. This fire was also doing damage to our columns exposed to it, when the order was given for us to "wheel and retire," where we could get under cover.

From this unfortunate charge only eleven men came back that night. It was said that they were subjected to not only the fire of the enemy but also from our infantry on the right of the road, who, hearing the clatter of the horses' hoofs, and unable to see what caused it, assumed it to be a charge of the enemy's cavalry, when they also opened fire. It was felt at the time that the ordering of this charge was a blunder, and yet it was one of the many blunders from which our volunteer army constantly suffered in the early years of the war. Kilpatrick was