of their divisions and informed me that the achievements of their troops were the main features in the engagements. It is not strange that the reports were conflicting or irreconcilable. Few officers took any note of time in a battle. Few can tell just about what orders were issued or what movements were made, amid the noise, the rolls of musketry, the thundering of cannon, the bursting of shells, the cries of the wounded and dying. Men's brains are in a whirl. A commander of a division must not only keep watch of his own men, but must be keenly alive to all the movements of the enemy. When it is all over, when the excitement is gone, it is only a confused and haunting memory of what has taken place. A correspondent must hear all the stories, and exercise his judgment as to the probabilities.

Debarred from joining the army, which had retreated to Harrison's Landing on James River, I waited for whatever might take place. The authorities at Washington, apprehending that the Confederates might make a movement towards the capital, summoned Major-General John Pope from the West to gather up the troops in and around the capital. I had made the acquaintance of General Pope in the advance upon Corinth. In assuming command he made a grave mistake by issuing a proclamation which reflected somewhat upon the Eastern soldiers. His headquarters were in the saddle. It was bombastic, and made it impossible for him to win the confidence of the men whom he was to command. His army had no coherence. He took command at Culpeper. Then came the rapid march of Stonewall Jackson, gaining Pope's rear, and the second Manassas conflict, the withdrawal of the Army of the Potomac from James River, the concentration of troops in and around Washington.

Day after day the booming of cannon had been heard, borne by the breezes along the wooded valley of the Potomac; far away at first, then nearer at Chantilly and Fairfax Courthouse. Then came the stream of fugitives, the broken, disheartened ranks back to Arlington. The streets of Washington were thick with hungry, war-worn men. Long lines of ambulances wended into the city, with wounded for the hospitals, already overcrowded. The soldiers had pitiful tales to tell of the scenes of the Peninsula, and of the gory field of Manassas,—how near they came to victory,-how Hooker and Heintzelman rolled back the lines of Stonewall Jackson,-how Fitz John Porter lingered within an hour's march of the conflict, tardily coming into line, and moving away when lightly pressed by the enemy. There were curses loud and deep

breathed against Porter, Pope, and McClellan. The partisans of Porter and McClellan called Pope a braggadocio, while the soldiers who had fought with obstinacy, who had doubled up Jackson in the first day's

battle, retorted that McClellan was a coward, who, through all the engagements on the Peninsula, took good care to be out of reach of hostile bullets or cannon shot. The cause of the Union was gloomy. Burnside had been hurried up from North Carolina to aid in repelling the in

vader. The sun shone peacefully through the August day,- summer passed into autumn,—

Adversity is a test of faith. In those darkest hours there was no faltering of hope. The heart of the nation was serene. The people believed that God would give them the victory. The soldiers believed it. Those who were passing away from earth, who with quickened sight beheld the events of the hour in the light of eternity, trusted that Providence would give the victory to their companions in arms.

Colonel Broadhead, of Michigan, lying upon the battle-field of Manas

sas, with the shadow of death stealing over him, wrote a most touching farewell letter to his wife, in which he expressed his convictions as to who was responsible for the defeat.

"MY DEAR WIFE:

"I write to you, mortally wounded, from the battle-field. We have again been defeated, and ere this reaches you your children will be fatherless. Before I die let me implore that in some way it may be has been outwitted, and that

stated that General is a traitor. Had they done their duty as I did mine, and had led as I did, the dear old flag had waved in triumph. I wrote to you yesterday morning. To-day is Sunday, and to-day I sink to the green couch of our final rest. I have fought well, my darling; and I was shot in the endeavour to rally our broken battalions. I could have escaped, but would not until all our hope was gone, and was shot about the only one of our forces left on the field. Our cause is just, and our generals - not the enemy's, have defeated us. In God's good time He will give us the victory.

"And now, good-by, wife and children. Bring them up—I know you will—in the fear of God and love for the Saviour. But for you and the dear ones dependent, I should die happy. I know the blow will fall with crushing weight on you. Trust in Him who gave manna

in the wilderness.

"Dr. North is with me. It is now after midnight, and I have spent most of the night in sending messages to you. Two bullets have gone through my chest, and directly through my lungs. I suffer little now, but at first the pain was acute. I have won the soldier's name, and am ready to meet now, as I must, the soldier's fate. I hope that from heaven I may see the glorious old flag wave again over the undivided country I have loved so well.

"Farewell, wife and friends, we shall meet again."

The military authorities were often indebted to newspaper correspondents for intelligence concerning the movements of the rebels. One of the most indefatigable of the corps was Mr. U. H. Painter, of the Philadelphia Inquirer. He was at Bristow Station when Stuart made his first appearance in Pope's rear, capturing the baggage of that officer. Mr. Painter was taken prisoner, but, true to his profession, kept his eyes and ears open, listening to all that was said by Stuart and his