f these spent balls rolling along
the ground, put out his foot to stop it, but shattered his leg so
dreadfully that it had to be amputated. Dr. Gaines was a rich,
aristocratic, and indolent old Virginian, whose stables, summerhouses,
orchards, and negro-quarters were the finest in their district. The
shooting so annoyed him that he used to resort to the cellar; several
shots passed through his roof, and one of the chimneys was knocked off.
His family carriages were five in number, and as his stables were turned
into hospitals, these were all hauled into his lawn, where their
obsolete trimmings and queer shape constantly amused the soldiers. About
this time I became acquainted with some officers of the 5th Maine
regiment, and by permission, accompanied them to Mechanicsville. I was
here, on the afternoon of Thursday, May 27, when the battle of Hanover
Court House was fought. We heard the rapid growl of guns, and continuous
volleys of musketry, though the place was fourteen miles distant. At
evening, a report was current that the Federals had gained a great
victory, and captured seven hundred prisoners. The truth of this was
established next morning; for detachments of prisoners were from time to
time brought in, and the ambulances came to camp, laden with the
wounded. I took this opportunity of observing the Confederate soldiers,
as they lay at the Provost quarters, in a roped pen, perhaps one hundred
rods square.

It was evening, as I hitched my horse to a stake near-by, and pressed up
to the receptacle for the unfortunates. Sentries enclosed the pen,
walking to-and-fro with loaded muskets; a throng of officers and
soldiers had assembled to gratify their curiosity; and new detachments
of captives came in hourly, encircled by sabremen, the Southerners
being disarmed and on foot. The scene within the area was ludicrously
moving. It reminded me of the witch-scene in Macbeth, or pictures of
brigands or Bohemian gypsies at rendezvous, not less than five hundred
men, in motley, ragged costumes, with long hair, and lean, wild, haggard
faces, were gathered in groups or in pairs, around some fagot fires. In
the growing darkness their expressions were imperfectly visible; but I
could see that most of them were weary, and hungry, and all were
depressed and ashamed. Some were wrapped in blankets of rag-carpet, and
others wore shoes of rough, untanned hide. Others were without either
shoes or jackets, and their heads were bound with