War's dreary record is written upon the dismantled houses, the
wasted gardens, the empty storehouses, and the deserted taverns. The
market, which stood in the centre of the _Plaza_, was last night
fired by a crazy old man, well known here, and previously thought to be
harmless: it now stands a black ruin, a type of the desolation which
broods over the once happy and prosperous town.

Near the market is a substantial brick edifice, newly built,--the county
courthouse. It is used as a hospital, and we were told that the dead
Guardsmen were lying in the basement. Colonel Eaton and myself
dismounted, and entered a long, narrow room in which lay sixteen ghastly
figures in open coffins of unpainted pine, ranged along the walls. All
were shot to death except one. They seemed to have died easily, and many
wore smiles upon their faces. Death had come so suddenly that the color
still lingered in their boyish cheeks, giving them the appearance of
wax-figures. Near the door was the manly form of the sergeant of the
first company, who, while on the march, rode immediately in front of the
General. We all knew him well. He was a model soldier: his dress always
neat, his horse well groomed, the trappings clean, and his
sabre-scabbard bright. He lay as calm and placid as if asleep; and a
small blue mark between his nose and left eye told the story of his
death. Opposite him was a terrible spectacle,--the bruised, mangled, and
distorted shape of a bright-eyed lad belonging to the Kentucky company.
I had often remarked his arch, mirthful, Irish-like face; and the
evening the Guard left camp he brought me a letter to send to his
mother, and talked of the fun he was going to have at Springfield. His
body was found seven miles from the battle-field, stripped naked. There
was neither bullet--nor sabre-wound upon him, but his skull had been
beaten in by a score of blows. The cowards had taken him prisoner,
carried him with them in their flight, and then robbed and murdered him.

After leaving the hospital we met Major White, whom we supposed to be a
prisoner. He is quite ill from the effects of exposure and anxiety. With
his little band of twenty-four men he held the town, protecting and
caring for the wounded, until Sigel came in yesterday noon.

Head-quarters were established at the residence of Colonel Phelps, the
member of Congress from this district, and our tents are now grouped in
front and at the sides of the house. The wagons did no