nd now looking out a new position to which his troops might fall
back in case of necessity, he was everywhere present, full of energy, as
determined to save as he had been to win.

Throughout the land the glorious deeds of the Sixth corps became
household words; but its glory had been dearly purchased. Five thousand
of the heroes who crossed the Rappahannock on the 2d of May, were either
dead or wounded. Colonel Van Houghton, one of New Jersey's bravest sons,
had received a mortal wound, from which he died in the hands of the
enemy. Captain Luther M. Wheeler, of the Seventy-seventh, was shot while
we halted at the foot of Marye's Hill. It was a sad loss to his
regiment, and the corps. Few more gifted young men could be found in the
army. He was one of our bravest and most efficient officers. Gentle in
his relations with his fellows, cool and daring in battle; his youthful
face beaming with fortitude, was a continual joy to his men in time of
danger. He died as he had lived, a hero.

The Forty-third had lost Captain Knickerbocker and Lieutenant Koonz. Two
young men of brilliant promise, greatly loved and respected in their
regiment and in their native city, Albany.

The wounded men in the hospitals exhibited the same heroic fortitude in
their sufferings that they had manifested in the charge and in the
retreat. A few instances are given as illustrations of many: Erskine
Branch of Company D, Seventy-seventh New York, when his leg was torn to
shreds by a shell, hobbled off on the sound one and his gun, singing
"The Star Spangled Banner." Corporal Henry West was shot through the
thigh, and he was brought to the rear. "I guess," said he "that old Joe
West's son has lost a leg." The corporal died soon after. While in the
hospital, suffering from extreme anguish, a wounded man at his side
lamented that he had come to the war. "I am not sorry that I came,"
instantly responded the brave corporal.

Let us now turn back and glance hastily at the maneuvers of the main
army at Chancellorsville. We, of the Sixth corps, could only see by the
balloon which, like some huge bird, hovered over the army, where it held
its position, and the unceasing roar of artillery told us of a severe
struggle with its foe; while rumor brought, now reports of brilliant
success, and anon tales of sad defeat. We knew little of the true state
of affairs at the right, and it was only when we mingled with our
comrades of the other corps that we learned the