prised that the victorious Federals made no more of their
advantage. Nor is it yet understood why the pursuit was not pressed.
A rapid and persistent pursuit would have created a complete rout of
the now broken, weary, and dispirited Rebels. Two hours more of
such fighting as Buell's fresh men could have made, would have
demoralized and destroyed Beauregard's army. For some reason this
was not done, and night closed the battle.

About five o'clock I requested permission to ride on toward Corinth,
as I was faint and weary, and, from the pain in my side and knee,
would not be able to keep the saddle much longer. This was granted,
and I made a _detour_ from the road on which the army was
retreating, that I might travel faster and get ahead of the main
body. In this ride of twelve miles alongside of the routed army, I
saw more of human agony and woe than I trust I will ever again be
called on to witness. The retreating host wound along a narrow and
almost impassable road, extending some seven or eight miles in
length. Here was a long line of wagons loaded with wounded, piled in
like bags of grain, groaning and cursing, while the mules plunged on
in mud and water belly-deep, the water sometimes coming into the
wagons. Next came a straggling regiment of infantry pressing on past
the train of wagons, then a stretcher borne upon the shoulders of
four men, carrying a wounded officer, then soldiers staggering
along, with an arm broken and hanging down, or other fearful wounds
which were enough to destroy life. And to add to the horrors of the
scene, the elements of heaven marshaled their forces,--a fitting
accompaniment of the tempest of human desolation and passion which
was raging. A cold, drizzling rain commenced about nightfall, and
soon came harder and faster, then turned to pitiless blinding hail.
This storm raged with unrelenting violence for three hours. I passed
long wagon trains filled with wounded and dying soldiers, without
even a blanket to shield them from the driving sleet and hail, which
fell in stones as large as partridge eggs, until it lay on the
ground two inches deep.

Some three hundred men died during that awful retreat, and their
bodies were thrown out to make room for others who, although
wounded, had struggled on through the storm, hoping to find shelter,
rest, and medical care.

By eight o'clock at night I had passed the whole retreating column,
and was now in advance, hoping to reach Corinth, still