cer in command of the brigade. The ominous rattle of musketry
not far away became momentarily more pronounced, and ambulances and
stretcher-carriers were passing back and forth to the hospitals,
carrying wounded men. The dead body of a regular army captain was soon
brought back from the front, where Sykes's division of regulars was
sharply engaged. I do not know the name of this captain, but he was a
fine-looking young officer. He had been killed by a minie-ball squarely
through his forehead.

We were marching out the plank-road as they brought this body in.
Passing out of the clearing, the woods and undergrowth each side the
road was so dense that we could not see into it a half-dozen steps. We
had gone possibly a quarter of a mile when we were overtaken by a
staff-officer, who in whispers ordered us to turn back, regardless of
orders from the front, and get back to the Chancellorsville House as
rapidly as possible, and to do so absolutely noiselessly; that a heavy
force of rebels were in the woods on both sides of us, and we were in
great danger of being cut to pieces and captured. We obeyed, and he
rapidly worked his way to the front of the brigade and succeeded very
quickly in getting us all safely out. We formed line near the
Chancellorsville House and were resting on our arms when I noticed
another brigade going down that same road from which we had just been so
hurriedly gotten out. The circumstance was so strange that I inquired
what brigade it was, and learned that it was Colonel (afterwards
Governor) James A. Beaver's brigade of Hancock's division of our corps.
They had been gone but a short time when the rebels opened upon them
from both sides of the road, and they were very roughly handled. Colonel
Beaver was soon brought back, supposed mortally wounded. I saw him as he
was brought to the rear. It was said he was shot through the body.
Afterwards, whilst he was governor, I mentioned the circumstance to him,
and asked how he succeeded in fighting off the last enemy at that time.
He said he then fully believed his wound was mortal. The bullet had
struck him nearly midway of his body and appeared to have passed through
and out of his back, and he was bleeding freely. He was brought to the
hospital, where the corps surgeon--his own family physician at
home--found him, and with an expression of countenance indicating the
gravest fear proceeded to examine his wound. Suddenly, with a sigh of
relief, he exclaimed: "