g his wound,
he administered some simple restoratives, and ordered the patient to go to
sleep. On the night of the 3d of May, he had been on guard duty; on that
of the 4th, he had obtained but three hours' sleep; and thus deprived of
the rest which a growing boy needs, he had passed through the fearful
scenes of the battle, in which his energies, mental and physical, had been
tasked to their utmost. He was completely worn out, and in spite of the
surroundings of the hospital, he went to sleep, obeying to the letter the
orders of the surgeon.

After twelve hours of almost uninterrupted slumber, Tom's condition was
very materially improved, and when the doctor went his morning round, our
sergeant buoyantly proposed to join his regiment forthwith.

"Not yet, my boy," said the surgeon, kindly. "I shall not permit you to do
duty for at least thirty days to come," he added, as he felt the patient's
pulse.

"I feel pretty well, sir," replied Tom.

"No, you don't. Your regiment will remain here, I learn, for a few days,
and you must keep quiet, or you will have a fever."

"I don't feel sick, and my head doesn't pain me a bit."

"That may be, but you are not fit for duty. You did too much yesterday.
They say you behaved like a hero, on the field."

"I tried to do my duty," replied Tom, his pale cheek suffused with a
blush.

"Boys like you can't stand much of such work as that. We must fix you up
for the next battle; and you shall go into Richmond with the rest of the
boys."

"Must I stay in here all the time?"

"No, you may go where you please. I will give you a certificate which will
keep you safe from harm. You can walk about, and visit your regiment if
you wish."

"Thank you, doctor."

Hapgood had been compelled to leave the hospital before his patient waked,
and Tom had not yet learned any thing in regard to the casualties of the
battle. Armed with the surgeon's certificate, he left the hospital, and
walked to the place where the steward told him he would find his regiment.
Somewhat to his astonishment he found that he was very weak; and before he
had accomplished half the distance to the camp, he came to the conclusion
that he was in no condition to carry a knapsack and a musket on a long
march. But after resting himself for a short time, he succeeded in
reaching his friends.

He was warmly received by his companions, and the veteran of the company
had nearly hugged him in his joy and admiration.

"Honora