a mere boy was
wounded. Rushing out of the woods, his eyes staring and his face pale
with fright, he shouted, "Where's the rear. Mister! I say, Mister!
where's the rear?" Of course he was laughed at. The very grim fact that
there was no "rear," in the sense of safety, made the question
irresistibly ludicrous. The conduct of this boy was not exceptional. It
was no uncommon thing to see the best men badly demoralized and eager to
go to the rear because of a wound scarcely worthy of the name. On the
other hand, it sometimes happened that men seriously wounded could not
be convinced of their danger, and remained on the field.

The day General Stuart fell, mortally wounded, there was a severe fight
in the woods not far from the old Brook Church, a few miles from
Richmond; the enemy was making a determined stand, in order to gain time
to repair a bridge which they were compelled to use, and the Confederate
infantry skirmishers were pushing them hard. The fighting was stubborn
and the casualties on the Confederate side very numerous. In the midst
of the fight a voice was heard shouting, "Where's my boy? I'm looking
for my boy!" Soon the owner of the voice appeared, tall, slim, aged,
with silver gray hair, dressed in a full suit of broadcloth. A tall
silk hat and a clerical collar and cravat completed his attire. His
voice, familiar to the people of Virginia, was deep and powerful. As he
continued to shout, the men replied, "Go back, old gentleman; you'll get
hurt here. Go back; go back!" "No, no;" said he, "I can go anywhere my
boy has to go, and the Lord is here. I want to see my boy, and I will
see him!" Then the order, "Forward!" was given and the men made once
more for the enemy. The old gentleman, his beaver in one hand, a big
stick in the other, his long hair flying, shouting, "Come on, boys!"
disappeared in the depths of the woods, well in front. He was a
Methodist minister, an old member of the Virginia Conference, but his
carriage that day was soldierly and grand. One thought--that _his boy
was there_--made the old man feel that he might brave the danger, too.
No man who saw him there will ever forget the parson who led the charge
at Brook Church.

At the battle of Spottsylvania Court House, a gun in position somewhat
in advance of the line was so much exposed to the enemy's fire that it
was abandoned. Later in the day the battery being ordered to move, the
captain directed the sergeant to take his detachment and bri