formed in the fields south of Sharpsburg just in season to hold Burnside in check.

The sun was going down, red and large, through the murky battlecloud. All of the Confederate and many of the Union batteries were flaming, but with the gloaming the thunder died away. Groping my away among the bivouac fires, I came upon a group of soldiers, who had eaten their rations of biscuit and beef, and were whiling the hours away talking of the incidents of the day, and singing songs. Their laughter, boisterous at times, died away when one sang the song:

"Do they miss me at home? Do they miss me?

'T would be an assurance most dear
To know at this moment some loved one

Were saying, 'I wish he were here.'"

With the rising

Through the night the troops rested on their arms. of the sun the cannonade began again. General Cook's division of fresh troops had arrived, which, with Porter's corps, gave McClellan twenty-five thousand fresh troops. I could not discover any preparations for a renewal of the battle. Eighty thousand troops were there, but for some reason, never explained, McClellan gave no order. He believed that Lee had one hundred thousand, yet it was plain from the different views I had of the Confederate lines that McClellan had by far the largest number of men.

A flag of truce came out from the Confederate lines, asking for an armistice to gather up the wounded, between the two armies. The request was granted. I walked over the field in front of the Dunker church, where a large number were lying. Upon the breast of one Union soldier lay a pocket Bible, upon the fly-leaf of which was written, doubtless by a loving mother: "We hope and pray that you may be permitted by a kind Providence after the war is over to return -a prayer not to be granted. He had given his life to the country. Many a mother, many a wife mourned for a loved one they never again would see.

The day passed without the issuing of any order by McClellan. Another morning dawned, and the Confederate army was once more in Virginia.

After the retreat of Lee, I rode over the ground and surveyed the field from every point. The dead were thickly strewn. A Confederate battery had occupied the ground around the Dunker church, a small

brick building on the turnpike, a mile south of Poffenberg's. At its door-step lay a major, a captain, and eleven men, all dead. A wounded horse, unable to lie down, was standing near a dismantled caisson.

Almost human was the beseeching look of the dumb creature. I rode along the sunken road, where the Confederate dead were lying as they had fallen.

I judged from a little counting that a thousand of the enemy's dead were in the road and the adjoining field. A shell had thrown seven into one heap,-some on their faces, some on their backs,-fallen, as a

AGAIN WOULD SEE."

But not

handful of straws would fall when dropped upon the ground. they alone suffered. The bloody tide which had surged through all the morning between the ridges above, along the right, had flowed over the

hill at this noontide hour. The yellow soil became crimson; the russet corn-leaves turned to red, as if autumn had put on in a moment her richest glory.

Now that Lee was across the river, the order was given for the army to push on. I was in the village of Sharpsburg when McClellan and his staff rode up. Fitz John Porter's troops cheered him, but Hooker's men received him with sullen silence. Porter's corps, in advance, came upon Lee's rear guard at Shepardstown, but was repulsed.

I had witnessed a great battle and made notes of the terrible conflict. Then came a midnight ride to Hagerstown, a journey to Boston, the writing of the story in the cars. I had seen the entire battle with the exception of Hooker's attack, in the morning. I was honoured by the Baltimore American in a republication of my account, of which many thousand copies were sold to the soldiers. It has even been a pleasure to receive assurances of its correctness from those who participated in that battle. The newsboys did a thriving business in selling the Baltimore, Philadelphia, and New York papers.

CHAPTER VIII.

INVASION OF KENTUCKY.

IMULTANEOUS with Lee's advance into Maryland was the advance

SIMU

of the Confederates under General Bragg into Kentucky, flanking General Buell, and compelling him to retreat from the banks of the Tennessee in Northern Alabama to Louisville. The Confederates were warmly welcomed by those whose sympathies were with the South. Bragg was fêted in Frankfort, the capital. A provisional government was organised. Many of the citizens kept open house to the Confederate officers.

General Bragg was dining with the accomplished Mrs. Preston, when a messenger dashed into town with the intelligence of the advance of the Union troops. Governor Harris,—six hours a Governor,-packed his carpetbag in great haste. The brilliant throng of officers mounted their horses, the ladies took down their miniature flags, while the citizens of the place prepared to change their politics. The Confederate force in the town consisted of two regiments of infantry and one of cavalry, guarding the turnpike bridge across the Kentucky River.

The Union cavalry came thundering down the hill. It was in the evening; and without halting to ascertain who or what they were to encounter, dashed across the bridge. The Confederates gave one irresolute volley and fled precipitately from the town, which was once more and for a finality in the hands of the Union men. Four days later the battle of Perryville was fought, and then the invaders retired from the State with their booty.

Their visit was at once a curse and a blessing, a curse, because of the havoc, the desolation, and pillage; a blessing, because it brought Kentuckians to a sharp corner. The President had just issued his Proclamation of freedom, and Kentucky slaveholders were grumbling, and were ready to shake hands with the Confederates. They had welcomed their Southern friends, who had robbed and plundered them without stint.

The Union men, on the other hand, hailed with joy the advance of