f the surrender of that army. The fourth and youngest brother lost a
leg near the close of the war. Like all true heroes, their modesty was
as striking as their courage and patriotism.

On the following day at our hospital the heap of amputated legs and arms
increased in size until it became several feet in height, while the two
armies lay face to face, like two exhausted monsters, each waiting for
the other to strike.

About sundown that afternoon I was put in an ambulance with S. R. Moore,
of the College company, who was in a semi-conscious state, having been
struck on the brow, the ball passing out back of the ear. The distance
to Shepherdstown was only three miles, but the slow progress of
innumerable trains of wagons and impedimenta generally, converging at
the one ford of the Potomac, delayed our arrival until dawn the next
morning. About sunrise we were carried into an old deserted frame house
and assigned to the bare floor for beds. My brother David, whose gun had
remained on picket duty on this side of the river, soon found me, and at
once set about finding means to get me away. The only conveyance
available was George Bedinger's mother's carriage, but my brother's
horse--the same brute that had robbed me of my bedding at Leesburg---now
refused to work.

The booming of cannon and bursting of shells along the river at the
lower end of the town admonished us that our stay in the desolate old
house must be short, and, as brigade after brigade marched by the door,
the apprehension that "they in whose wars I had borne my part" would
soon "have all passed by," made me very wretched. As a last resort, I
was lifted upon the back of this same obstreperous horse and, in great
pain, rode to the battery, which was camped a short distance from the
town.

S. R. Moore was afterward taken to the Bedingers' residence, where he
remained in the enemy's lines until, with their permission, he was taken
home by his father some weeks later.

David Barton, a former member of our company, but now in command of
Cutshaw's battery, kindly sent his ambulance, with instructions that I
be taken to his father's house in Winchester, which place, in company
with a wounded man of his battery, I reached on the following day. At
Mr. Barton's I found my cousin and theirs, Robert Barton, of Rockbridge,
on sick-leave, and a Doctor Grammer, who dressed my wound; and, although
unable to leave my bed, I intensely enjoyed the rest and kindness
rece