. He returned to the table and
gave back the cup. The woman looked toward the ambulance. She was a tall
young woman, serious, dignified. She impressed me.

We drove past Georgetown Heights. There, amongst the trees, were four
wall-tents in a row; one of them was of double length. The ambulance
stopped; we got out. The Doctor led the way into one of the tents; he
pointed to one of two camp-beds. "That is yours," said he; "go to sleep;
you shall not be disturbed."

"I don't think I can sleep, Doctor."

"Why not?"

"My mind will not let me."

"Well, try," said he; "I will peep in shortly and see how you are
getting on."

I undressed, and bathed my face. Then I lay down on the bed, pulling a
sheet over me. I turned my face to the wall.

I shut my eyes, but not my vision. I saw Ricketts's battery--the First
Michigan charge;--the Black-Horse cavalry ride from the woods. I saw the
rebel cannons through dust and smoke;--a poplar log in a thicket;--a
purple wound--wet clay;--a broken rifle;--stacks of straw.

Oh, the gloom and the shame! What does the future hold for me? for the
cause? What is to defend Washington?

Then I thought of my father; I had not written to him; he would be
anxious. My eyes opened; I turned to rise; Dr. Khayme entered; I rose.

"You do not sleep readily?" he asked.

"I cannot sleep at all," I said; "besides I have been so overwhelmed by
this great calamity that I had not thought of telegraphing to my father.
Can you get a messenger here?"

"Oh, my boy, I have already provided for your father's knowing that you
are safe."

"You?"

"Yes, certainly. He knows already that you are unhurt; go to sleep; by
the time you awake I promise you a telegram from your father."

"Doctor, you are an angel; but I don't believe that I can sleep."

"Let me feel your pulse."

Dr. Khayme placed his fingers on my wrist; I was sitting on the side of
the bed.

"Lie down," said he. Then, still with his fingers on my pulse, he said
softly, "Poor boy! you have endured too much; no wonder that you are
wrought up."

He laid his other hand on my head; his fingers strayed through my hair.

V

WITH THE DOCTOR IN CAMP

"Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss,
But cheerly seek how to redress their harms."

--SHAKESPEARE.

When I awoke in Dr. Khayme's tent toward four o'clock of the afternoon
of July 22, I felt that my mind was clear; I had slept dreamlessly.

On the cover