who left us at Spottsylvania under the pretence of being sick; but the sound of the battle is what made him sick; for he was a coward, in my opinion. He never returned to the regiment again. The next we heard of him, he was boarding in Washington, and then in New York State, in good health.

Company E was commanded by the orderly sergeant the most of the time. Occasionally, there would be a lieutenant detailed to take command, but would soon be relieved by wounds. The company as well as the whole regiment suffered great loss after taking the Norfolk and Petersburg Railroad. We were relieved and arranged for another charge; this time, to take a ravine running lengthwise of our lines, that the enemy had possession of. We formed on the railroad behind its high banks, cutting steps so that we could climb up; and then the order was given to forward. "Forward! forward!" rang through the lines, and with deafening veils we went on. The ravine was cleared, and we had possession of it. But our day's work was not yet done, for we immediately formed for another charge; this time with fixed bayonets and for their main works. When all was in readiness, the orders again rang through the lines, and we were in motion. On, on, we went, their shot making sad havock in our lines; but still we kept on, until the Twenty-first Pennsylvania Cavalry, dismounted, broke, and fell in our rear for us to protect them. What a shame it was, for, in a few moments more, the works would have been ours. The enemy had commenced to retreat, and were drawing away their artillery, when they noticed the break in our lines. But we rallied, and held our lines until late in the night; when we were relieved, and moved off to the left, and stopped to rest. Fatigue, hardships, and sickness had worn me down, but I would not ask to go to the hospital, for I would rather be with the company as long as possible. I think this was the eighteenth of June, 1864. We did not move out of range of the enemy's fire; and there was a good many wounded without being able to do anything to prevent the fire. I was hit four times during the day with spent-balls. This was the twentieth or the twenty-first of June, 1864.

We again moved to the left, and halted in the woods, where we remained until the afternoon of the twenty-second, when we were again called into action, the enemy having succeeded in breaking the lines between the Second and Ninth Corps. We were hurried on to death or victory. We succeeded in stopping them, when we were ordered to another point still farther to the left, where the enemy were concentrating their men for another break. We moved by the left flank, which brought the dismounted Twenty-first Pennsylvania Cavalry ahead. The artillery-fire here was the worst I had seen. The air seemed to be full of the deadly missiles. It was almost impossible for a man to stand for a moment. But through this fire we must pass. We started as fast as we could run; but when we had got into the heaviest of the fire, we found, to our horror, that the dismounted Twenty-first Pennsylvania Cavalry had become frightened and lain down. We could not pass them, and so were obliged to stand under the awful shelling until they could be got out of the way.

At this place, I lost my arm,—a place never to be forgotten. Here Fort Hell was built. As we were standing there, a shell came through one man, and then exploded, taking my right arm off, and killing four of my comrades, making five lives destroyed and one wounded. I never expected to get home, or even off of the field, but I was bound to do all I could. When the shell hit me, it took part of my arm off, and I never saw the hand afterward. I was at this time one mile from any surgical assistance, and walked that distance, while the blood was fast leaving me, notwithstanding I had bandaged the arm as tight as possible. Only by the assistance of kind friends did I reach the ambulance. The surgeon examined my arm, and could then do nothing more than to cord it again, and give me morphine. I was so weak as to be unable to walk or hardly stand. I got into the ambulance to go to the Division Hospital, which was seven miles distant over rough roads. It was eight o'clock in the evening when I arrived at this hospital. I had for a bed, a straw bedtick spread on the ground (but no straw in it), and no pillow to put under my head. I had not long to wait before the surgeon came along; and, at my earnest request, I was taken to the amputating-room, and placed on the table. This is the last that I remember until after my arm was amputated. After I had fully come to my senses, I was conducted back to my bed on the ground, and there I remained during the night with my bloody clothes on.

What a long and sleepless night, with no one to console or comfort me. My thoughts ran back to the happy days I had spent at home, and to the loved ones I had left behind. I never expected to behold them again; But morning came at last, and the bombardment around Petersburg was renewed. We could hear the firing distinctly. How often I thought of my poor soldier friends that were still remaining in the regiment on the morning of the twenty-second of June, 1864. We could only muster ninety guns; how many were wounded on that day, I never knew. At about ten o'clock on the day of the twenty-third, one of my company came in and saw me lying there with my bloody clothes on. He brought a pail of water, and washed off the blood which had dried on very hard; he also got me some clean clothes; and I felt some relieved after getting cleaned up, but I had no appetite to eat anything. All I could do was to lay there and think of home, and think how they would feel when they came to know of my misfortune,—to hear that I was crippled for life. These were the thoughts that passed through my mind, as I lay on the ground at the hospital. I was cared for as well as I could be in such a place; but it was different from being at home, with a dear mother or wife to care for one. But I was not destined to remain at this hospital long, for on the twenty-fourth, we were sent to City Point. I thought I should be nearer home, so I was anxious to go; but when I found I must go in an army wagon, my heart failed me. I had seen men with nothing but flesh-wounds get into the ambulances, and I in an army-wagon; but this was my lot; and I had to stand it, or die. The roads were very rough, and we were a long time in going seven miles. How glad I was when I got to the end of my journey. There I met one of my company that was slightly wounded. He met me at the wagon, and helped me out, and I was placed in the ward with him. The scenes at City Point are beyond description. The dead were being carried out at all hours of the day, and I expected to go in a short time. The heat was awful. I remained a few days, and then went to Washington. The very thought of City Point is enough to make one sick; it was the worst place I ever saw; thousands of men lay mangled in every form. The sight was too horrible for description. When I was informed that I was to go to Washington, my heart beat with joy, for I knew that I should be near my friends who were living there. While I remained at City Point, I wrote to all my friends at home, for I never expected to come home again. We were treated well, and had all the comforts that could be expected. Never but once while at City Point did I have occasion to find fault with my treatment; and then the nurse would not dress my arm, which was fly-blown, and the worms began to work into the amputation. This was more than horrid. I reported the nurse to the ward-master, and for my reply was told to mind my own business, which I thought I would do by reporting him to the