ient veteran, with his back to the field,
was the fugitive AEneas, leaving Troy behind. And these, around me,
belonged to the columns of Barbazona, scattered at Legnano by the
revengeful Milanese. Cobweb, and thick dust, and faded parchment had
somewhat softened those elder events; but in their day they were
tangible, practical, and prosaic, like this scene. Years will roll over
this, as over those, and folks will read at firesides, half doubtfully,
half wonderingly, the story of this bafflement, when no fragment of its
ruin remains. It was a profound feeling that I should thus be walking
down the great retreat of time, and that the occurrences around me
should be remembered forever!

There were a few prisoners in the mass, walking before cavalry-men.
Nobody interfered with them, and they were not in a position to feel
elated. Now and then, when we reached an ambulance, the fugitives would
press around it to inquire if any of their friends were within. Rough
recognitions would ensue, as thus:--

"Bobby, is that you, back there?--Bobby Baker?"

"Who is it?" (feebly uttered.)

"Me, Bobby--Josh Wiggins. Are you shot bad, Bobby?"

"Shot in the thigh; think the bone's broke. You haven't got a drop of
water, have you?"

"No, Bobby; wish I had. Have anymore of our boys been hurt that you know
of?"

"Switzer is dead; Bill Cringle and Jonesy are prisoners; 'Pud' White is
in the ambulance ahead; 'Fol' Thompson's lost an arm; that's all I
know."

When we had gone two miles or more, we found a provost column drawn
across the road, and a mounted officer interrogating all who attempted
to pass:--

"Stop there! You're not wounded."

"Yes, I am."

"Pass on! Halt boy! Go back. Men, close up there. Stop that boy."

"I am sun-struck, Major."

"You lie! Drive him back. Go back, now!"

Beyond this the way was comparatively clear; but as I knew that other
guards held the road further on, I passed to the right, and with the
hope of finding a rill of water, went across some grass fields, keeping
toward the low places. The fields were very still, and I heard only the
subdued noises wafted from the road; but suddenly I found myself
surrounded by men. They were lying in groups in the tall grass, and
started up suddenly, like the clansmen of Roderick Dhu. At first I
thought myself a prisoner, and these some cunning Confederates, who had
lain in wait. But, to my surprise, they were Federal uniforms, and were
simply skulkers from