ager for the honors of the day--
Like bison Indian-chased on windy plains,
Now broken and commingled fled the field.
Words of command were only wasted breath;
Colonels and brigadiers, on foot and soiled,
Were pushed and jostled by the hurrying hordes.
Anon the cry of _'Cavalry!'_ arose,
And army-teams came dashing down the road
And plunged into the panic. All the way
Was strewn with broken wagons, battery-guns,
Tents, muskets, knapsacks and exhausted men.
My men were mingled with the lawless crowd,
And in the swarm behind us, there was Paul--
Silent and soldier-like, with knapsack on
And rifle on his shoulder, guarding me
And marching on behind the ambulance.
So all that dark and dreadful night we marched,
Each man a captain--captain of himself--
Nor cared for orders on that wild retreat
To safety from disaster. All that night,
Silent and soldier-like my wounded Paul
Marched close behind and kept his faithful watch.
For ever and anon the jaded men,
Clamorous and threat'ning, sought to clamber in;
Whom Paul drove off at point of bayonet,
Wielding his musket with his good right arm.
But when the night was waning to the morn
I saw that he was weary and I made
A place for Paul and begged him to get in.
'No, Captain; no,' he answered,--'I will walk--
I'm making bone and muscle--learning how
To march and fight and march and fight again.'
That silenced me, and we went rumbling on.
Till morning found us safe at Arlington.

"A month off duty and a faithful nurse
Worked wonders and my head was whole again--
Nay--to be candid--cracked a little yet.
My nurse was Paul. Albeit his left arm,
Flesh-wounded, pained him sorely for a time,
With filial care he dressed my battered head,
And wrote for me to anxious friends at home--
But never wrote a letter for himself.
Thinking of this one day, I spoke of it:--
A cloud came o'er his face.

"'My friends,' he said,
'Are here among my comrades in the camp.'
That made a mystery and I questioned him:
He gave no answer--or evasive ones--
Seeming to shrink from question, and to wrap
Himself within himself and live within.

"Again we joined our regiment and marched;
Over the hills and dales of Maryland
Along the famous river wound our way.
On picket-duty at the frequent fords
For weary, laggard months were we employed
Guarding the broad Potomac, while our foes,
Stealthily watching for their human game,
Lurked like Apaches on the wooded shores.
Bands of enem