walk somewhat
carefully; but I did not walk carefully enough--I stumbled and fell, and
bruised my back.

The next day I was on camp guard. The weather was intensely cold. A
bitter wind from the north swept the Maryland hills; snow and rain and
sleet fell, all together. For two hours, alternating with, four hours'
relief, I paced my beat back and forth; at six o'clock, when I was
finally relieved, I was wet to the skin. When I reached my quarters, I
went to bed at once and fell into a half sleep.

Some time in the forenoon I found Dr. Khayme bending over me, with his
hand on my temples.

"You have had too much of it," said he.

I looked up at him and tried to speak, but said nothing. Great pain
followed every breath. My back seemed on fire.

The Doctor wanted to remove me to his own hospital tent, but dreaded
that I was too ill. Yet there was no privacy, the hut being occupied by
four men. Dr. Khayme found means to get rid of all my messmates except
Willis; they were crowded into other quarters. The surgeon of the
Eleventh had given the Doctor free course.

For two weeks Willis nursed me faithfully. Dr. Khayme came every day--on
some days several times. Lydia never came.

One bright day, near the end of February, I was placed in a litter and
borne by four men to the Doctor's hospital tent. My father came. This
was the first time he and Dr. Khayme met. They became greatly attached.

My progress toward health, was now rapid. Willis was with me whenever he
was not on duty. The Doctor's remedies gave way to simple care, in which
Lydia was the chief priest. Lydia would read to me at times--but for
short times, as the Doctor forbade my prolonged attention, I was not
quite sure that Lydia was doing me good; I liked the sound of her voice,
yet when she would cease reading I felt more nervous than before, and I
could not remember what she had read. So far as I could see, there was
no understanding between Lydia and Willis; yet it was very seldom that I
saw them together.

One evening, after the lamps were lighted, my father told us that he
would return home on the next day. "Jones is in good hands," said he,
"and my business demands my care; I shall always have you in
remembrance, Doctor; you have saved my boy."

The Doctor said nothing. I was sitting up in bed, propped with pillows
and blankets.

"The Doctor has always been kind to me, Father," said I; "ever since he
received the letter you wrote him in Charleston