ll be remembered, Colonel Dwight had
been brought after the battle. We saw the positions occupied in the
battle of South Mountain, and many traces of the conflict. In one
situation a group of young trees was marked with shot, hardly one having
escaped. As we walked by the side of the wagon, the Philanthropist left
us for a while and climbed a hill, where, along the line of a fence, he
found traces of the most desperate fighting. A ride of some three hours
brought us to Boonsborough, where I roused the unfortunate army surgeon
who had charge of the hospitals, and who was trying to get a little sleep
after his fatigues and watchings. He bore this cross very creditably,
and helped me to explore all places where my soldier might be lying among
the crowds of wounded. After the useless search, I resumed my journey,
fortified with a note of introduction to Dr. Letterman; also with a bale
of oakum which I was to carry to that gentleman, this substance being
employed as a substitute for lint. We were obliged also to procure a
pass to Keedysville from the Provost Marshal of Boonsborough. As we came
near the place, we learned that General McClellan's head quarters had
been removed from this village some miles farther to the front.

On entering the small settlement of Keedysville, a familiar face and
figure blocked the way, like one of Bunyan's giants. The tall form and
benevolent countenance, set off by long, flowing hair, belonged to the
excellent Mayor Frank B. Fay of Chelsea, who, like my Philanthropist,
only still more promptly, had come to succor the wounded of the great
battle. It was wonderful to see how his single personality pervaded this
torpid little village; he seemed to be the centre of all its activities.
All my questions he answered clearly and decisively, as one who knew
everything that was going on in the place. But the one question I had
come five hundred miles to ask,--Where is Captain H.?--he could not
answer. There were some thousands of wounded in the place, he told me,
scattered about everywhere. It would be a long job to hunt up my
Captain; the only way would be to go to every house and ask for him.
Just then a medical officer came up.

"Do you know anything of Captain H. of the Massachusetts Twentieth?"

"Oh yes; he is staying in that house. I saw him there, doing very well."

A chorus of hallelujahs arose in my soul, but I kept them to myself. Now,
then, for our twice-wounded volunteer, ou