vacant place in the tent, from which a dead soldier had been removed, to
find rest for mind and body in sleep. As I lay there thinking of the
dreadful scenes around me, of the wounded and dying here, the dead just
over yonder, I began to wonder what would be the sensations of a man
shot in the brain. Suddenly there came a shock, as if the whole
machinery of life had stopped at once. How long a time elapsed before
consciousness was resumed I do not know; the interval may have been
momentary; but as a dim sense of being stole over me again, I was quite
convinced that a stray shot had struck me in the head. Rousing myself, I
deliberately felt my head, to learn the exact state of things. To my
surprise and gratification, I found every thing in due order. I leave
it to those who are skilled in the mysteries of the nervous system to
explain the phenomenon; but you must allow me to believe that I know
something of what it is to be shot in the head.

The time arrived, at length, when the field hospitals must be moved
because of the changed position of the army. A heavy rain began on the
11th, and continued for some days, making the roads almost impassable.
The wounded that remained were removed as speedily and as mercifully as
possible. Some had to be left behind. Nurses were detailed to remain
with them. As night came on every thing was in readiness, and the rest
of us were directed to take our departure without delay. Two of us
started together after dark. We made our way through the mud and intense
darkness about twenty rods, to the edge of a wood. We resolved to go no
further, come what might. Doubling myself up at the root of an old
stump, I was soon oblivious to both rain and danger. Just as day was
breaking, I awoke, and arousing my companion, we hastened away.

CHAPTER V.

This closed my experience in the hospital. I was so worn out by the
constant strain which such labor made on body and mind, that rest was
imperative. During all these days I could get no definite information of
the fate of John Elliot. The wounded reported that he was missing, but
whether among the dead or living they could not tell. It was difficult
to drive away the thought of the painful possibilities that imagination
would bring up. Had he been disabled that first day in the wilderness
and perished in the flames of the burning woods? Had he been mortally
wounded, and died alone in the thick underbrush which veiled so many
tragic scenes?