f a shell overhead, and
fragments of branches of dead trees came falling all around. A
general "scatteration" occurred in all directions save one. Newton
and I, who were conversing at the time, quietly stepped aside a
few paces out of the line of fire, where we were much safer than
we would have been in full retreat, and then turned round to see
what had become of our companions. All save two had disappeared,
even Thomas having abandoned the field, probably for the first and
only time in his life. But still there, on the bald hill, in full
view of the hostile artillery, were the two already highly
distinguished generals, Sherman and Hooker, both alike famous for
supreme courage, striding round the ground, appearing to look at
nothing in particular and not conversing with each other, but
seeming at least a foot taller than usual, each waiting for the
other to lead off in retreat. After quite a long continuance of
this little drama, which greatly entertained Newton and me, the
two great soldiers, as if by some mysterious impulse,--for they
did not speak a word,--simultaneously and slowly strode to the
rear, where their horses were held. I cheerfully gave the "Johnny
Rebs" credit for the courtesy of not firing another shot after they
saw the effect of the first, which I doubt not was intended only
as a gentle hint that such impudence in Yankees was not to be
tolerated. Yet a single shell from the same direction,--probably
from the same battery,--when we were moving into action that morning,
exploded near my head, and killed the aide who was riding behind
me.( 3) My too numerous staff and escort had attracted attention.
I had at Dalton a few days before forbade the staff and escort to
follow me into action, unless specially ordered to do so; but they
had not so soon learned the lesson which the sad casualty at Resaca
taught them. It was then early in the campaign. Later, both
generals and orderlies had learned to restrain somewhat their
curiosity and their too thoughtless bravery. The perfect old
soldier has learned to economize the life and strength of men,
including his own, with somewhat the same care that he does those
of artillery horses and transportation mules. It is only the young
soldier who does not know the difference between husbanding the
national resources and showing cowardice in face of the enemy.

At Wilson's Creek, where the brave Lyon was killed in August, 1861,
and where the gallant volunte