EXPEDITION TO GOLDSBORO—SKIRMISHING—SOUTHWEST CREEK—BATTLES OF KINSTON, WHITEHALL, AND GOLDSBORO—INCIDENTS—RETURN OF THE EXPEDITION TO NEWBERN—THE 17TH RELIEVED BY THE 45TH IN NEWBERN—ACROSS THE TRENT—BUILDING FORTS—SICKNESS—BEAUFORT—AN ACCOUNT OF THE FREEDMEN, ETC., ETC.

The indulgent reader, who has accompanied me thus far in my peregrinations through Dixie, need not be alarmed, upon looking at the caption of this page, at the prospect of being bored with so many dry, solid pages as he has waded through in the first part of this work. I have prepared this literary feast, if not of the best materials (and I have no better, I assure you), at least after the most approved style of French cookery, and, therefore, have kept back the best dishes to the last. It is in this second part of my humble work, that I hope to give the most stirring (I might say thrilling) and interesting part of my narrative of

"Moving accidents by flood and field,"—

and, if I do not succeed to my own satisfaction, I hope, at least, to give satisfaction to my patrons. This done, I can pocket the profits with a clear conscience.

In November, 1862, when the nine-months troops had about all arrived, the work of brigading them with the old regiments, and drilling them in field movements, was undertaken and vigorously prosecuted.

Preparations on a scale of considerable magnitude for a large expedition had been going on for some time; but to what point it was destined was wisely kept a secret, though it was generally understood to have some connection with the movement of Burnside in Virginia.

On the 8th of December, the war-worn veterans of General Wessells' brigade (of Gen. Peck's division) arrived in Newbern, and preparations for the expedition were hastily completed. The same evening, at dress parade, an order was read from Gen. Foster to all the regiments, to be ready to march in thirty-six hours in light marching order, viz.: without knapsacks, carrying only blankets and overcoats, with three days cooked rations to be carried in haversacks, seven days' to be conveyed in wagons.

The following day was a busy one for the quartermasters of the Subsistence Department, and the cooks. In the evening the guards were withdrawn, and the 8th Mass. regiment, which had not yet been fully provided with arms and equipments, took charge of the city, and sent out details of men to patrol the streets.

This was a busy night for us all. Like sailors before a storm, we had to make snug our tackle, and spread only as much sail as we thought the ship could conveniently carry. Everything in the shape of spare clothes and blankets were snugly packed in our knapsacks; and, when the final order came for us to be in line at three o'clock in the morning, we were ready at the moment to start. But we visited Billy Patterson, and each man proceeded to stow away into his haversack what he judged would be sufficient to subsist him for three days. We then turned in, to gain a little repose and freshen our energies against the morrow.

At three o'clock on the morning of Thursday, Dec. 11, 1862, we were awakened by the bugle call, and after a hasty meal, formed in the yard of our quarters, and proceeded to the place of rendezvous for the regiment on —— street. A gray, frosty mist enveloped the city, which was alive with marching men, horse, foot, and artillery, and forage and ambulance trains. As early as was the hour, however, the whole population—especially the negro portion—seemed abroad in the streets, and many a fervent prayer and good wish for our success were showered upon us by the poor negro women as we passed along.

"Oh," exclaimed one, "I know de Lord am walkin' alongside ob you, and you will beat de rebs, I knows—I knows!"

"Aunty," sang out a soldier from the ranks, "if I don't come back you'll never get paid for them clothes you washed for me."

"Nebber mind de close, honey," exclaimed the generous old woman; and then, changing her tone, she continued, as if to herself—"Oh, Lord!—de Lord!—Oh good Lord!—Nebber come back!—Oh, de poor sojer!—Lord, help de poor sojer! Amen for de poor sojer!—Amen! Glory!"

We halted on the Trent road, just beyond Fort Totten, and awaited the movement of the various bodies of troops that were to precede us.

The morning broke clear and cool, and beheld a fine array of infantry, cavalry, and artillery taking up their line of march by the Trent road from Newbern. The sight was magnificent as the long lines of infantry with their polished arms, and the cavalry and artillery, slowly but cheerfully took up their line of march, with an elasticity of step and a merry hum of voices that unmistakeably showed how high the spirits and expectations of all were aroused, and that it required only an able general to lead such an army on from victory to victory.

As we advanced into the country the evidences of former strife everywhere met the eye, in the desolated plantations, houses burned to the ground or partially destroyed, and an air of ruin and desolation pervading all.

After a tedious, plodding and plunging march of about fourteen miles, the army bivouacked for the night on a plantation which seemed more fortunate than many others we passed. But its time had come; and as regiment after regiment arrived and stacked arms, it was a curious study to watch the rush they made for the nearest fence, the eager scramble for rails, and the disappearance of the fences, as if by magic. As night darkened over the scene, the countless bivouac fires rose in all directions, casting a lurid glare up to the sky, and forming about as picturesque a scene as could possibly be imagined. And the sound of voices and laughter, and the neighing of horses and unearthly braying of mules, all combined to render that (my first) bivouac a something to be remembered forever.

Beyond where we encamped Thursday evening, the rebels having notice of our approach, blockaded the road for two miles, by felling trees across; but the pioneers set about removing them during the night, and when the army resumed its march in the morning the way was cleared, and we passed on 'into the bowels of the land.'

About 10 A.M., on Friday, a skirmish occurred near Trenton, between our advanced guard of cavalry and some rebel cavalry and infantry, in which the latter were routed with the loss of three or four killed and several wounded and taken prisoners.

Our advance reached Southwest Creek about noon on Saturday, and the enemy, about 2,000 strong, were posted beyond, with a battery commanding the road.

The 9th New Jersey and Morrison's battery were sent forward to feel their position, and a smart cannonade of some two hours' duration took place, when the 9th New Jersey made a detour through the woods and captured the battery, putting the rebels to flight. They made another stand about four miles this side of Kinston, when the same force pushed after them and engaged them for about half an hour, when the rebels again fell back.

While the skirmish was going on, the troops, as they arrived, were assigned their places in line of battle, almost parallel with the road. Towards evening, the regiments bivouacked in the same position they had taken when expecting the assault of the enemy. We were pretty hungry by this time, you may depend, not having, some of us, tasted food for nearly two days. When orders were given to stack arms, there was a general rush for rails, but some of the boys, while seeking out the latter, came across some luckless porkers, which bit the dust, were skinned, and their still quivering flesh subjected to a barely warming process, ere it was devoured by the half-famished soldiers. I fell in for a stray piece, and computed that the flesh I was then devouring, had fifteen minutes before formed a portion of an animate pig, careless of sorrow, and only seeking some innocent pieces of garbage or succulent root wherewith to tickle his palate and satisfy the cravings of hunger. How rapid are transmutations, sometimes! Little did that pig dream that on the morrow he would stimulate the nerves of many a soldier in the defeat of rebels and the capture of Kinston. But so it was; and this curious fact might lead me, if I were given to abstract reasoning, to trace this influence of forces by the abundance of pork. But no; for me are plainer and perhaps more demonstrative revelations.

There was a house in our front about one fourth of a mile distant, whither some of our lads found their way, and soon all the available beds and bedding which the frightened inmates left behind were confiscated and appropriated by the tired soldiers. The pig did not satisfy me. I was too fond of vegetables to be satisfied with flesh, and, accordingly, set out at the first opportunity in search of sweet potatoes. Espying a house upon a rising ground, about a mile to the right of our encampment, I made for it; but night came down just as I was starting, and I was compelled, as it were, to grope my way through a rice-field or swamp that intervened, where I met many a ditch and slough, some of which I avoided, and some I fell into. But, nothing daunted, I held on, and drew near the house, when I beheld in the darkness the dim outlines of a man in my path, of what description—union soldier or guerilla, friend or foe—I could not make out. Not being in the mood to stand upon ceremony, I accosted him as I approached (he proved to be a friend), inquiring if he knew of any deposit of sweet potatoes in that region. Returning a cavalry pistol to his belt with which he had covered me on my approach, he directed me to where I could find what I desired: and it may be inferred that I was not slow in availing myself of the opportunity afforded, and soon set out on my return loaded with sweet potatoes. I had almost cleared the swamp, and was approaching the camp-guard of one of our batteries—in fact I was almost upon the guard—without being perceived, when plump! down I went into an undiscovered ditch or drain, frightening myself as well as the guard, who brought his piece down to the 'charge,' expecting he had some atrocious guerilla on hand. I soon explained matters to his satisfaction, however, and went on my way rejoicing. My success awakened the hungry ones of Co. K, and the officer in command, appreciating the necessity of the men having a good supper, sent half-a-dozen along with me to the scene of my discoveries. I was a willing guide, and we soon returned with an abundance of provisions, and made a hearty supper upon the plunder. We slept well, and awoke next (Sunday) morning refreshed, and ready for the road and the fight.

On Sunday morning the 14th, we resumed our march on Kinston. From the place where we encamped, a steep hill descended, and the road wound through a low, swampy ground for about two miles, when we came out upon higher land, where our advanced guard (the 9th New Jersey and Wessells' brigade) had bivouacked for the night. The advance was already in motion, and our regiment followed. In the low grounds of Southwest Creek, we saw the evidences of yesterday's strife—two cannon captured, and a few dead rebels. When we passed the low lands, we saw abundant evidences of hasty preparation for resisting our advance; but, I suppose, as a very considerable body of the enemy—who expected us on the other road where they were very strongly fortified—could not be got up in time, Evans thought it prudent to abandon them. We had not proceeded far, however, when the crack of musketry told us that our advance was driving in the enemy's pickets; and soon, as we shortened the distance between us and the scene of the coming battle, the more regular and deliberate volleys of small arms announced that the ball had opened in earnest. Soon the artillery came galloping up, and took position, just as we reached the wood skirting the battle field. We were halted, and ordered on to the right of the road to support a battery.

The enemy were advantageously posted in a swamp, and on a rising ground beyond, about a mile from the bridge leading across the river to Kinston.

The action, which was commenced by our advance in the morning, was sustained with vigor, until the main body of our forces came up, when the battle became more earnest and terrible, and, as battery after battery arrived in position, and opened its fire on the enemy, the ground fairly shook with their repeated reverberations, while the sharp roll of musketry—whole battalions delivering their fire at once—filled up the intervals. The rebel position was well chosen, under cover of a dense undergrowth of wood, their foreground protected by groves of pines, which, however, offered no impediment to our artillery, which mowed them down like grass.

I stated that the 17th were ordered to the right to support a battery. As we marched in to take our position, the officer in command of the battery, asked—

"What regiment is that?"

"The 17th Massachusetts," was the reply.

"All right, boys," said the officer, and turning to his men, he remarked, "I'm glad they didn't send me one of those d—d nine months regiments."

We stood a few minutes in the position we had first taken, the cannon booming away like thunder, and the bullets began to p-e-e-w athwart our line, quite lively—hurting nobody however—when the artillery officer, who was on horseback, said—

"Here they come—the devils are on us!"

We could see the flash of bayonets at the edge of the wood, and fully expected a charge. Our Colonel ordered the men to fall back a few yards to a fence, unsling their blankets, and fix bayonets. This was done in less time than it takes me to record it, and we waited with anxiety the onset of the rebels.

Here, for the first time, was I brought into a position that required courage and resolution; but though I felt determined to 'do or die,' a strange feeling came over me, and if I was not really frightened, the feeling was marvelously like fear. I suppose every man who first goes into action is troubled with a sensation something akin to that which I felt at this time; but, like every new sensation, it soon wears off, and the experience of the actual dangers of conflict serves to obliterate all such qualms, and leaves the individual in the full enjoyment of a reckless indifference to what may betide, and an implicit confidence in that fate which may be the preservation or destruction of his dear life.

While we were in position awaiting the onset of the enemy, an incident occurred, which showed how serene men will look upon others going into the same danger they are in themselves.

A negro teamster, with his ammunition cart, was ordered further on, to supply another battery on our right whose caissons were running low of ammunition. The poor fellow thought he was going to his death, and if ever mortal fear displayed itself upon the countenance of any human being, it was upon that poor darky's face. I shall never forget the wild rolling of his eyes, nor the frenzied and agonized expression of his face, as he hesitatingly guided his team in front of our regiment, urged on by our men with such encouraging remarks as—

"Go it nig; don't be afraid!" "You're a goner, old darky,—good bye!" "Won't the rebs chaw him up?" &c.

We waited some time for the rebels to appear, but they came not. In the meantime, the battery we were supporting was ripping up the woods in front in fine style—at every discharge cracking off the pine trees as it they had been pipe stems.

At length an order came for us to proceed further down to the right, where the 9th New Jersey and a battery had preceded us, and here we crossed a swamp, and turned the enemy's right.

We were to push on; but our Lt. Colonel, not, perhaps, understanding the order fully, halted us in a cleared field beyond the swamp, and ordered us to lay down. The 9th New Jersey were off in the woods to our right, and when I first beheld them I took them for rebels. From the position occupied, we could see the long line of intrenchments in our front; but we did not suppose a river intervened, which was the case. During the movements just recorded, the firing had been rapid and tremendous, and, from the cheers of our men, we could clearly infer that the rebels were giving way. Then was the golden opportunity for us—for, had we then advanced as we did afterwards, instead of taking a few hundred prisoners, we should have captured an entire brigade—but it was lost. Col. Amory coming up soon after, said—

"Why do you stay here? Forward, as quick as you can!"

The regiment rose like one man, and, on the order being given to go forward at the double quick, rushed down with a yell. As we neared the bridge, we beheld a rout—an almost indescribable body of men running for their lives. All discipline seemed lost, and casting aside guns, equipments and clothing, and, in fact, whatever might retard their flight, they fled like a herd of frightened deer, while close upon their heels came on the charging columns of our men. It was a magnificent, and yet it was a pitiable sight. As intimated before, we succeeded in bagging a goodly number; but the bridge being set on fire, we were forced to give over the pursuit until the flames were extinguished.

While laying down in the field, I observed a substantial looking two-story house in our front, and near the bridge, a large portion of the rear of which had been shattered by a shell, evidently the work of the enemy. I found this the case when we halted near the bridge, from which position I could observe that the missile had entered the roof of the piazza, went clean through the house, bursting as it was penetrating the rear wall, and making the havoc described. Standing upon the piazza, the picture of anguish and despair, were two women, who seemed watching the rout of their army with a terrible and heart-sick interest, perfectly heedless of the missiles of death flying around thick and fast. Some of our officers, taking pity upon the poor women, and solicitous lest the exposure should endanger their lives, approached, and advised them to retire to a place of safety. But they resolutely refused to stir from their dangerous position. Doubtless, they had friends near and dear to them in the fight, and anxiety for the fate of those loved ones made them forget the natural timidity of their sex, and thus risk their lives.

It has been often stated that the women of the South did more to drive the men to take up arms against the Government than the politicians. If this be so—and my experience makes me think it probable—then they have most surely reaped in the whirlwind of desolation which has burst upon their hitherto peaceful homes the most bitter fruits of the wind of treason they have sown. To them, unlike the women of the North, the fields of strife are not afar off, and they do not have to weep for their braves fallen in the distant battle-field. The clouds of strife gather and burst about their homes. They see their fields laid waste,—their towns and villages made the abode of desolation and anguish. They behold their sons, brothers, fathers, and friends stricken down by the hand of war before their eyes. Danger lurks forever at their doors. Famine—gaunt, ghastly, insatiate—forever hovers in their future, like a bird of ill omen. They are forced to many a weary struggle to provide the necessaries of life for their helpless, and too frequently, alas! fatherless children. Like the first of their sex, they incited disobedience, and now they find their paradise changed to an abode of wretchedness and misery, and are compelled, in tears and wretchedness to eat the bitter fruit of their crime. I have seen the widowed wife and orphan children standing pale, motionless and horror-struck over the dead body of the husband and father, and, with glassy eyes look upon the passing array of their foes, fierce and triumphant in the 'pomp and circumstance of war;' and I have thought what a pity that even so great an offence should have so terrible a punishment. But 'those whom the gods wish to destroy they first make mad.'

The attack on Kinston was planned and carried out by Gen. Wessells, and, though the fight was more severe, and of much longer duration than the battle of Newbern, a difficult position was carried with comparatively small loss—(about 100 killed and 400 wounded).

The rebels had chosen their position, as before stated, upon a slight elevation beyond a swamp, and on both sides of the Kinston road. Their left was protected by a church and a growth of scrub oaks, and their right by a grove of large trees, their front and both flanks being pretty well protected by a swamp, difficult to cross, and densely covered with a growth of small trees and pines.

The brigade of Gen. Wessells opened the ball in fine style, driving in the rebel advance, and alone sustained the onset of the rebels, until the brigades commanded by Cols. Amory, Heckman, and Stevenson got into position, when they formed the left wing of our line of battle—Stevenson and Heckman the centre, and Amory the right.

Gen. Evans commanded the rebel army, which consisted of over five brigades of about 15,000 men, including a brigade of home-guards from Raleigh. The other troops were mainly from South Carolina, Georgia and Mississippi. Evans disposed his men in a skilful manner upon and behind the rising ground he had chosen for the battle-field, and had several batteries so disposed as to command the approaches by the road in front, and his left flank, which, however, was his weak spot. The fire of the rebels upon our attacking columns was rapid and well-directed, and did great havoc among them; but our line kept steadily though slowly, from the nature of the ground, advancing upon them, and, after a severe contest of over five and a half hours, and just as the 17th and 9th New Jersey had succeeded in turning their left, an impetuous charge was made, and the day was ours.

We halted in a field, and were ordered to lay down, our left resting on the river. The few remaining rebels on the other side kept up a desultory but sharp fire upon our men and the 9th New Jersey in our front.

Orders to fire had not been given, and we had to lay quietly and forego many a good opportunity of picking off a stray rebel. But human nature could not stand such inaction always, and many a sly shot was planted upon the opposite bank, sometimes with excellent effect. I had my eye upon a rebel who kept firing from behind a tree, and seemed particularly active in picking off our men, and suddenly formed the resolve to shoot him if I possibly could. Slipping quietly to the rear, I made quick time for the left of our line on the river bank. Just as I arrived, I found one of Co. K's men, named Kendrick, in the act of firing, and on looking across to see the result of his shot, saw a huge porker jump into the air as if struck. Sam fixed that fellow's hash for him, and it afterwards became a common saying—"Who killed that pig?—Sam Kendrick." But my man, who was behind a tree, abandoned his shelter and made off just as I had got my battery into position. I fired, and, throwing up his arms, he fell forward on his face. Feeling like a prize-fighter, who had drawn his 'first blood,' I leisurely returned to my place in the ranks, reloading my piece as I went along, when I was accosted by Capt. Day, who was acting Major—

"You have been firing without orders."

"Yes, sir."

"What name?"

I told him.

"What company?"

"K."

Going along the line with me to where the company was, he ordered the officer (Lieut. Greeley) to put me under arrest.

"What will all this amount to, lieutenant?" I asked.

"Nothing," he laconically replied, "take your place in the ranks."

"What's the matter?" queried some of the men.

"Nothing," I replied, "only I've been arrested for shooting a reb."

"Is that all!"

Men were detailed, under the guidance of Major Frankle, Provost Marshal, to put out the fires which had been kindled by the retreating rebels, which, in a short time, was accomplished, and the 9th New Jersey crossed over followed by the 17th. And here I had an opportunity of seeing some of the most terrible evidences of human strife. The bridge was actually paved with cast-off arms and equipments, while in the midst of where some of the fires had been, I beheld one of the most sickening sights that ever met my gaze. Some of the poor fellows who had been wounded by our fire on the retreat, or been trampled down by the rush of the flying host, were burnt to a cinder, and I could actually see the fat seething and boiling in the hollow of the temple of one of the charred remains.

Upon reaching the other side of the river we halted, amidst a promiscuous mass of dead, dying, and wounded men—of clothes, arms and equipments. It was here that the 9th New Jersey picked up (captured?) the battle-flag of the 22d South Carolina regiment, a magnificent silk banner, with the palmetto tree on one side of the field, and a wreath of stars on the other, and the red, white and red stripes.

A few yards from where we halted, was an abandoned field piece with its caisson, which the rebs had left behind in their flight. It was the same cannon which had fired the last rebel shot in the battle, directed at our regiment, over which it burst, and wounded two or three men. I had the curiosity to examine some of the cartridges in the caisson, and found them, as well as the fixed ammunition of the small arms used by the rebels labelled with the maker's name (which I forget) 'London, England.'

After a short halt we advanced up towards the town of Kinston, whither the 9th New Jersey had preceded us. The road wound along the river bank to the left for a short distance, and then took a turn to the right into the centre of the town. At the entrance to the town, the 9th New Jersey were halted, and when we came up mutual cheers were exchanged.

Just then Gen. Wessells came riding up at the head of his brigade of Pennsylvanians and New Yorkers. He was a fine specimen of a man, tall, straight as an arrow, and with a pleasing, and even gentle expression of countenance, that indicated a humane disposition, and these indications were not false, if the love and admiration of his men were any evidence. He seemed, by his gray hair and a few wrinkles on his noble face, to be over fifty years of age; but, otherwise, in elasticity of movement, apparent vigor, and by the keen, quick glances of his honest gray eyes, he looked much younger.

The rebels, after collecting their stores and all the cotton they could gather into a heap, set them on fire. They also set fire to the railroad depot, a handsome brick structure, but this was extinguished by our men before it had made any considerable headway.

Previous to our entering the town, a flag of truce demanding its surrender had been sent in; but as it was found the enemy had abandoned the town, a messenger was sent back acquainting Gen. Foster with the fact, the party kept on to find the skedaddlers, if possible. About two miles beyond the town they came up with Evans, who sent back word to Gen. Foster to have the women and children removed, as he was going to return the fire, which all the while had been kept up by our heavy guns upon his retreating forces. This was simply a ruse to gain time; for, after our forces had been brought up and disposed in line of battle, and the cavalry and skirmishers had advanced up to where they expected to find the enemy, it was ascertained the bird had flown.

Our regiment, which had been detailed from the brigade, and when we entered Kinston was ordered on provost duty, in view of the anticipated fight, was ordered to rejoin the brigade; but, when the skedaddle was discovered, we were again assigned to provost duty, and such marching and countermarching, and shifting, and looking around for a vacant place to serve as quarters for the night, as the men of Co. K had, never fell to the lot of so tired and hungry a set of men to experience. I suppose some of the other companies could boast of a similar experience.

But do not suppose the men of the 17th were satisfied with only one job on hand at a time. No, sir. They could do provost duty; but they could also, when hungry, find something to eat (and drink) if such were comeatable. In this instance the way poultry suffered was a caution; and there was something truly ludicrous, too, in the exhibition of men gravely marching in the ranks, each having in his hand a couple of hens, or a turkey, or a goose, all of which made such a noise and flutter that it was next to impossible to hear the word of command when spoken.

The Major (Frankle), who, as a general thing, was very severe in his denunciations of such proceedings, replied to a woman, who complained that she had lost all her fowl:

"Vat—all your shickens gone? You may be tankful it was no more! If you did not have more to eat than my men, and march and fight so hard, I tink you would take a little shicken, too!"

The town of Kinston is one of the neatest and most tidy-looking I have seen in North Carolina, or, in fact, elsewhere. It is finely laid out, in a splendid location upon the banks of the river, the streets running at right angles; the houses well built, painted white, and to each is attached a beautiful and tasteful flower garden. The jail was a small but solid-looking structure, and empty. A church, small, but with a high steeple, (the top of which had been struck and bent by a cannon-shot), stood in the centre, and an air of so much quiet and comfort—so different from anything we had seen in Dixie, and so unexpected in this place—pervaded it, that the men of the 17th incontinently fell in love with the place, and wished for nothing better than to do provost duty in Kinston forever.

We had not been long in the town when mines of apple-jack, peach brandy, and tobacco were discovered, and the various expedients resorted to by the men to get at the same were as amusing as they were generally successful. People who left their houses with clothing and other matters behind, must have found a considerable change when they came back. Indeed, some of them returned during our occupation, and a more pitiable sight could not well be imagined, than those small processions of timid women and helpless children who came flocking back to their homes upon being assured of protection.

Apple-jack and peach brandy, which had been discovered somewhere by the most expert foragers, soon made their influence felt, and incited the soldiers to committing many curious pranks. Here would be seen a burly soldier, with a woman's dress, even to the bonnet, put on over his own, his musket still on his shoulder, and linked arm in arm with another soldier, presenting as grotesque an appearance as could well be imagined—while in another place could be seen a party intently engaged in harnessing a diminutive mule to a vehicle, the quadruped resenting such freedom as only a mule can.

A cavalryman passed us, with a bucket in each hand, urging his horse to its utmost speed, and shouting as he went on—

"Plenty of rum, boys!—lashins!—lashins!"

The inhabitants (those who remained) looked glum and chop-fallen enough; but the negroes—it seemed a gala day to them, especially the juvenile portion, who ran around among 'de sojers' as if they were friends returning after a long absence.

"How is you, Yankees? I's glad you'm come!" was the general salutation; and the negro women vied with each other in emptying their larders to give 'de sojers suffen good.'

Towards night (having, like Ishmaelites, wandered about all the evening in search of quarters) we obtained an entrance into a hardware and furniture store; but just as we were going in an order came, directing us to guard the prisoners. We proceeded to the upper end of the town, near the depot, and there took charge of a squad of about 400 rebels, and escorted them to a large unoccupied building at the other end of the town. On our way thither, I had an opportunity of speaking with several of them. Although they differed in some things, yet they all seemed to agree in one thing, viz., in being heartily sick of the war, and desirous of peace.

Observing among them a man in Quaker's garb, I remarked—

"Friend, you do not look like a fighting man. How did you get here?"

To which he replied, in a half-crying tone—

"Thou art right, friend. I am no fighting man. I never fought in my life! I don't want to fight—I won't fight! Thy horsemen caught me on the road, and thee seest the result."

Observing an elderly gentleman in civilians' clothes, I remarked—

"You do not look like a soldier either, friend?"

"No, sir," he replied, "I'm not a soldier; nor would my conscience allow me to fight in the confederate cause. I've always been a Union man, and am so still."

I cautioned him about expressing sentiments that might compromise him when we left, as it was not certain how long he would receive protection from our arms; but he replied, that he cared not; his sentiments were already well known, and while he lived he would express them to friend or foe.

Observing he was lightly clad, I asked if he had any friends in the city who could supply him with clothes and something to eat. He said his son-in-law, named Patterson, lived just across the street, and would attend to his wants, if acquainted with his situation. I offered to carry a message to Mr. Patterson, who expressed surprise at his father-in-law's arrest, saying he was one of the few men in that neighborhood, who had all along remained true to the old flag.

He immediately repaired to the provost marshal's office, and, I had the satisfaction of knowing, was successful in obtaining the old gentleman's unconditional release.

We left our blankets and overcoats on the field, and the night being cold, after our blood had cooled somewhat, when the day's excitement was ended, we felt the need of some covering, and a party of our company was made up to go over and get them; but we could not procure a team, and the project was abandoned. I, however, had no notion of doing without my overcoat, and, with two or three others, who were of the same mind, started for the field. We passed over the place where the fighting had been thickest, and stumbled upon, and over, evidences of the deadly strife—inanimate bodies of friend and foe, maimed and disfigured. But I will not dwell upon the sickening scene revealed to us by the light of the camp fires; suffice it to say, that we were successful in obtaining our clothing and returned to our temporary quarters tired and hungry.

During our absence, a hotel had been set on fire, whether by design or through accident, could not be found out. It was burning fiercely when we returned; and, despite the efforts of our men to extinguish it, was destroyed, together with some small dwellings adjacent.

The gunboats had come up to a blockade about four miles below the city, which was commanded by an earthwork fort; and, after we had driven the rebels out of Kinston, we could hear the continuous boom of heavy artillery in that direction. A squad of the 3d New York Cavalry started for the scene, and surprised and captured the fort that was pounding away at the gunboats, and nearly all in it.

The result of our day's work may be summed up in a few words—we beat the rebels from a strong position, took over 500 prisoners, and 11 pieces of artillery.

The battle of Kinston was won on the same day on which the battle of Fredericksburg was fought.

On Monday morning we were awakened early, and with the 9th New Jersey, took up the advance. Recrossing the bridge, we passed over the battle-field, and here I observed a fine mastiff laying down beside the body of his dead rebel master. I had often read of such things; but I had at last the privilege of seeing for myself that noble instinct of affection which binds so closely the ties between man and the inferior animals.

About two miles on the road to Whitehall (for we had turned off in that direction), I left the ranks, and went into a house at the roadside. A poor widow, with three or four young children, constituted the family. The poor woman seemed terribly frightened, and in a tremulous voice told me her husband had been in the rebel army, and had died at Manassas; that she had to depend for her support, and that of her children, upon the labor of the loom, and that the house she lived in was given her for occupation, free, by a gentleman who owned the plantation on which it stood. She gave me some corn-bread, and I gave her in exchange a few biscuit and some tobacco, for she smoked; and with pity in my heart for the poor woman and her helpless family, I left them, none the worse off for my visit, and rejoined the regiment which had halted for a rest a short distance ahead.

About mid-day, however, I began to feel my legs growing stiff, and being unable to keep up with the regiment, I 'fell out' and straggled—for the first time. Charles Renaud (our late cook, whom I have mentioned before) was in the same boat, and we soon came together, and together trudged on as best we could, rested together, made our coffee together, and together visited many points of interest and attraction on our route, gathering a stray honeycomb here, and a stray piece of corn bread there; but the grand object of our search (which was anything of a spirituous or malt nature we could get hold of—whiskey preferred) could not be found. At length, shortly after mid-day, we came in sight of a really handsome one-story cottage house, evidently the abode of wealth and refinement, and thither we went, but only to find that we had been anticipated; the house deserted by all save a negro, and every thing in the most delightful confusion—drawers pulled out, and their contents scattered about, chairs and furniture broken, and every portable thing of value missing. But we were not disappointed at this, as our object was not plunder, but—whiskey. Bringing the point of my bayonet in close proximity to the darky's breast, I conjured him as he wished for the success of the North, and his own freedom and life, to tell me if he had any whiskey or apple-jack stowed away about the premises. He turned pale (that is, for a darky), his knees smote together, and, with an agonizing appeal to spare his life (which was perfectly unnecessary, inasmuch as I had no notion of confiscating it) and solemn assurances that there was nothing of the kind on the premises, directed me to a distillery, which, he averred, lay in from the road about 'haaf' a mile, on the right hand, just after crossing the second branch. Off we started, and on our way questioned a farmer, who, with horse and team, was requested to accompany the army so that he should not give information to his rebel friends of its whereabouts—Foster having given them the slip—but he stoutly denied all knowledge of its whereabouts, averring that there was nothing of the kind within twenty miles. Somewhat staggered by this information, we were about giving up the search; but depending more upon the darky's word than that of Mr. Secesh, we finally concluded to give the place a trial. We struck off at the point indicated, and followed a rough cart-road, which, a short distance onward, diverged into numerous roads and bridle-paths, to choose between which was no little difficulty. At length we pitched upon one, and having disencumbered ourselves of blankets, overcoats, and haversacks, which we secreted behind a fallen tree, set forward, determined to see the end of that road, at the same time keeping a wary eye in case we should stumble upon a stray guerilla party. Instead of going 'haaf' a mile, we went over two miles before we came in sight of the object of our search, which was just beyond a grist-mill, on the bank of a stream. We knew it to be a distillery by the number of casks and barrels around it, and by the peculiar odor arising from it, borne to our nostrils on the wings of the wind. But all was deserted; the mill and still-house were locked, bolted and barred, and our cautious advance found no opposition from anything animate. We paused before the strongly protected door of the distillery, and I doubted our ability to break the lock.

"Well, then, let us smash in ze door."

"But we will be heard by the guerillas who may not be far off, and what would we do if a dozen of them should come upon us?"

"Fight, I teenk."

"Fight! What chance would we have against so many?"

"We could fire, and re-treet."

"Yes; but they would probably surround us before we knew it."

"Well—dhan, I suppose we must be tak-en pree-so-neer."

"And would you like that, Charley?"

"I sup-pose if we cannot help it—what you do?" and he shrugged his shoulders.

"Are you willing to run the risk?"

"Oui—if you say so!"

But believing there might be an easier way of 'breaking and entering,' besides attacking the formidable door before us, I suggested a reconnoitre of the rear, where we found an opening defended only by a few boards nailed crosswise. These were soon ripped off, and, leaving Charley to guard against any surprise from without, I entered, taking his canteen, and proceeded to explore. There was corn in soak, and plenty of empty casks; but no whiskey. At length I lit upon a stone jug nearly full, from which came the smell of whiskey, and, giving Charley to understand I had found the prize, I proceeded to fill both the canteens, after having accomplished which, I thought it would be nothing out of the way to save what I had secured as much as possible, and therefore proceeded to fortify myself with a pull at the jug; but the first mouthful convinced me that the prize I had secured was not whiskey, but water (no doubt, the jug had contained whiskey once, as was evident from the smell). Vexed at my disappointment, I proceeded to examine further, but with no success, and I finally emerged empty-handed as I had entered. Charley was as much disappointed as I, but a shrug and muttered 'sacre' was all the evidence he gave of it. We then broke into the mill; but found nothing there except corn and some empty kegs. We went to a house or barn in the rear, filled with corn, but were equally unsuccessful. There was a house about a mile distant from the mill, and after a consultation, in which it was taken for granted that it must belong to the owner of the distillery, we started for it. Within a quarter of a mile of the house was a grove of young pines, and there we halted and arranged that I should go forward alone, and in case of danger Charley could come up at the proper, time, when I would ask him where he left the rest of the men, and he was to reply—"Waiting in the grove." Fixing on my bayonet, and looking to see if the cap of my piece was all right, I moved for the house, which I reached without molestation or discovery, except by a sentinel dog (not a fierce one), who retreated in good order at my approach. I entered the first door I came to, and proceeded through a bed room into which it opened, to the kitchen or general room of the house. My heavy tread announced a stranger, I suppose, for half a dozen females and as many children came in at once, and seemed transfixed and terrified at the apparition they beheld. Giving assurance that I intended no harm to any of them, I inquired if the master of the house was at home, and if so, where he then was? After a little hesitation, they told me he was in the garden, in front. I went out to him, and he returned my salutation without any exhibition of ill-will. I inquired if guerillas were numerous in the neighborhood, which he denied, saying, however, at length, that there had been 'a right smart' of mounted men in the neighborhood a short time previously. At this juncture Charley came up, and I questioned, and received such answer from him as agreed upon. I inquired about the distillery, but the planter disclaimed its ownership, saying that the man who owned it, lived a 'right smart' distance beyond. Had he any whiskey? No, sir; he hadn't a drop—we might search if we pleased—he had nothing in that line but some peach brandy (spirits), which had been burnt in the distillation, but was just as good, and we were welcome to it. Taking him at his word, we poured into our canteens enough of the spirits to warrant our filling them with water, and still leave a strong drink (I didn't have the heart to take all). We then asked if he had anything to eat, as we were hungry, when his wife immediately set before us a good dish of pork, corn bread, and sweet potatoes, which we did ample justice to. The children became more familiar, and some of the youngest actually came up to us, to share in our meal. They were the finest children I had seen in North Carolina. Thanking our host—for we had nothing better to give in return—we retraced our steps in better spirits, and soon rejoined our struggling and straggling comrades, who had been, and were still, wending along on their weary way.

We had in Co. K a young fellow, of small stature, named Tom McNally, who was one of the regimental 'markers.' Tom was full of fun, and had a great love for horseflesh. He accompanied the regiment on every expedition, and it was remarked, that he always managed to have a horse to ride ('confiscated,' of course, from rebels, in a manner peculiar to Tom). At the battle of Kinston, he came in possession of a fine colt; but, during the afternoon, while engaged in exploring the town, the animal was stolen by one of the 51st. Tom went up boldly to the headquarters of the regiment, and demanded the horse; but the colonel of the 51st told him he had no right to the animal, and should not have him.

"I've as much right to him as the other fellow," said Tom; "and if I can't get him any other way, I'll steal him back again!"

And he would have carried out his threat, but eight men of the 51st were detailed to guard the animal that night, and, of course, he stood no chance of being successful, and did not try his hand at the game.

Nothing disheartened, however, he next morning struck off ahead of the regiment, and had not proceeded above three miles before he came to a plantation, where he found a fine young mare; and actually compelled the owner to put on bridle, saddle, and assist him to mount. The wife of the planter did not wish to lose the animal, and told Tom she had a better horse in one of the fields, which he could have instead; but, suspecting the horse could not be better, he made off amid the complaints of the woman. One of the 9th New Jersey, who witnessed the affair told him it was a shame, &c.

"Shut up your head!" answered Tom, "you'd be only too glad to get a horse to ride yourself!"

And, sure enough, it was not long until Tom saw the Jersey-man mounted on a blind mule he had taken from a negro.

Shortly after, Tom procured a pair of spurs, and on applying them to the mare's flanks, developed a peculiarity, which his ready wit soon turned to account, as the following will show:

Riding up to a planter's house, he accosted a negro girl, and asked her for some eggs. She refused to give him any, when, turning the horse's heels towards her, and applying the spurs, the animal began kicking furiously, Tom at the same time exclaiming—

"If you don't get me some eggs, I'll kick your brains out!"

"O lor, massa, don't kill me, and I get de eggs!" she said, and retreated to the hen-house; but once inside, and feeling secure, she again attempted to put him off by saying there were no eggs; when, without further parley, he backed his nag up against the hen-house, and giving her the spurs, the animal commenced kicking against it so violently, that the wench, fearing the building would be knocked about her ears, piteously begged him to desist, and she would get him all the eggs he wanted. Tom drew off from the attack, and received the fruits of his victory, in the shape of a dozen eggs. The same persuasive force also procured a canteen full of peach brandy. But luck is often a fickle jade, as is a strange mare, sometimes; for, the very qualities in Tom's animal of which he was so proud, and which had served his turn so well, came near being the death of him. Passing too close to her heels one evening, the vicious brute gave him a kick in the side, and broke two of his ribs, which eventually ended in his being discharged from the regiment.

I might here pause, and give a description of the stragglers (among whom I found myself for the first time.) The mass of stragglers, as a general thing, are composed of men who become worn out with marching, or who are too foot-sore to keep up with their respective battalions, and fall behind, keeping on as best they can, and generally rejoining the regiments when they bivouac, though, of course, some hours after the halt for the night takes place. Some—often a great portion—of them, however, straggle for the sake of picking up stray fowls, victuals, and whatever else palatable which might fall in their way; and it was an amusing study to watch these fellows scattered and squatted along the roadside, or snugly ensconced in the angles of the fences, leisurely engaged in the work of plucking geese, turkies and other fowl, or skinning and dissecting dead porkers. Sometimes a cow would be met with and slain, and then quite a number of these stragglers would congregate, light a fire, and proceed to roast and devour the not unsavory pieces of flesh hewn from the still quivering carcase. There is, of course, a rear-guard to each brigade; but they do not succeed in keeping the men moving fast enough, and are generally compelled to 'let them slide.' Some of the stragglers, however, take a different method of prosecuting their researches, and, instead of falling behind, push ahead, and spread themselves like locusts on each flank, and generally make a clean sweep of all things eatable in their course.

The army bivouacked for the night within about five miles of Whitehall. In the morning, just before we started, a difficulty occurred between Billy Patterson and a little drummer. Words grew hot, and the drummer, making a demonstration on Billy's physiognomy, the latter (a burly, double-fisted fellow), as if resolved to die in the last ditch, exclaimed—

"Well, be——, a man has got to die but once, and I might as well die now"—

But his further utterance was stopped by the little drummer springing up and dealing him a 'sockdologer' under the ear. Before Billy could draw in his skirmishers, however, and prepare for a general engagement, an officer stepped up and separated the belligerents.

About nine o'clock on Tuesday, our advance came up with the enemy at Whitehall, who, after a sharp skirmish, retired across the river, burning the bridge behind them.

Whitehall consisted of one house, which looked as if it never knew a coat of paint, and why it was called by that name has been a mystery to me to this day. The only reasonable solution I can give to the apparent misnomer is, that a man named White, or a white man, lived there.

Upon the advance of our forces towards the river—a feint being made as if we intended to cross the same—the enemy opened on us from the opposite side with artillery and musketry. They had also a number of sharpshooters in the tree-tops, and other advantageous positions on the other bank, who kept up a continuous and pelting fire upon us, with perfect impunity, too, for we could not see them, though they could see us, and picked off many of our poor fellows.

The 17th were ordered down to the river bank on the right of the road, and got into a hornet's nest and no mistake; for the shells burst around and among us, and the bullets made the air vocal with their insinuating p-e-w-phet; but though we had quite a number wounded, not one of our number was killed.

While being actively engaged upon the river bank, our own artillery had come up, and commenced pelting at the rebs in glorious style. We had six batteries (forty-two pieces) in the expedition, and here they were all brought into play. The enemy had also a good share of artillery, and when they all got into full working order, what with the bursting of shells and the diapason of small arms, the ground fairly shook with the reverberations.

The wooded bank of the river, in which the 17th were posted, becoming dangerous from the fire of our artillery, which ripped through the trees and drove the splinters about in all directions, wounding some of our men, Col. Amory sent in his aide with instructions for Lt. Col. Fellows to draw his men further to the rear. I was sitting cosily on the edge of a sloping bank, my legs astride the butt of a tree, and anxiously dodging my head about in search of a sharp-shooter who was, as I had occasion to believe, exclusively engaged in the endeavor to put me out of suspense and existence at the same time, when the aide came up and inquired where the Lt. Col. was. Perhaps it was officiousness on my part to direct him in the most safe and expeditious way to find Lt. Col. Fellows, who, as usual was at the front; for, without noticing my directions he proceeded further, and came near faring much worse. Just as he was taking advantage of an opening in the underbrush to go down the bank, whizz-herr-r-r-bang came a shell from the enemy which passed within two feet of him. He drew back, pale, and looking frightened enough; but, rallying, he proceeded a few yards further; but, just as he had found another opening, one of our batteries sent a discharge ripping through the woods just in front of him again, when, thinking, probably, he had gone far enough in that direction, he came to the right about, and sought the path I pointed out to him in the first place.

Our regiment was withdrawn about one hundred yards to the rear, ordered to lay down, and remained there under fire for three hours. We had, however, time to smoke, and take a survey of the battle-field on our left. The batteries were thundering away, and the regiments which were ordered in on the left of the road (among which were the 23d, 44th and 45th), were tiring rapidly, and losing heavily, if one could form a judgment from the way in which the ambulance corps were carrying the wounded to the rear. Not only did the infantry suffer from the fire of the enemy, but the batteries which were most advanced suffered their share of the casualties.

A sergeant, of Belger's battery I think, was in the act of dismounting from his horse, when a shot or shell passed through the animal, and hit the sergeant, tearing the left side completely out of him.

One of our men wishing to have a better view of some object in his front, elevated his head, and opened his mouth, when a rifle ball passed into the cavity, and out at the back of his neck, the first intimation of which we had was a stream of blood spirting out of his mouth.

Major John G. Chambers was in command of the 23d, and marched his men in under fire; then formed them in line of battle, and I could not help noticing the extreme coolness of this officer in giving the order, in a deliberate voice—

"Captains of companies, see to your allinements."

Before the engagement had any sign of abating, the 17th were ordered to take up the advance for Goldsboro. We had to pass across the battle-ground under fire every step of the way; but, strange to say, no casualties occurred during this movement. We halted opposite the house which constituted the city or town of Whitehall, when we were accosted by an enthusiastic but prudent defender of his country, who had taken shelter in the lee of the house, safe from the enemy's bullets, who exclaimed:

"I say, boys, aint we giving 'em hell?"

Bestowing upon the hero a few 'O you be d—ds,' we resumed our march, and soon left the fierce cannonade far behind us.

The battle of Whitehall was little more than an artillery-duel, and would be deserving only of a few lines of record if it occurred on the Potomac or the Rapidan. I think, in the engagement, which lasted about four and a half hours, there must have been a great deal of lead wasted and iron thrown away on our side. The only sensible impression made by our projectiles, that we could see, was upon the frame of a gunboat on the stocks at the other side of the river (intended for an iron-clad), and this was certainly riddled up in fine style.

The mention of the gunboat, or frame of one, puts me in mind of a daring act performed the evening previous to the battle by one of the 3d New York cavalry. He stripped off, swam the river, and was in the act of setting the gunboat on fire, when he was discovered and fired upon, and had to dive into the river, leaving his work undone, and swim back again amid a perfect shower of bullets, not one of which, strange to relate, touched him.

The loss on our side at Whitehall was about 30 killed and 120 wounded.

Our regiment was followed by the 9th New Jersey and others, until all the infantry were under full headway, leaving only a battery and a company of cavalry to engage the attention of the enemy until nightfall.

We continued our march to within about five miles of Steep Creek, and eight of the Wilmington Railroad, and halted for the night.

On Wednesday morning our regiment, followed by the 9th New Jersey, again took up the advance, and proceeded cautiously along to within about two miles of the railroad, where, as we came out upon the brow of a hill, we could see about a mile in our front the gleaming of the enemy's arms, as they slowly withdrew. Our advance companies came up with them, and quite a lively skirmish ensued, in which Sergeant Hardy of Co. F was mortally wounded.

Lt. Col. Fellows seemed in his element, and went on even in advance of the skirmishers.

A battery had been planted on the hill just mentioned, and commenced shelling the retreating rebels.

We advanced through a wood, skirting the mill pond, and, just on the further edge of the wood, where we struck the county road, we came upon a deserted rebel camp, the fires still burning, and in the ashes of which many roasted sweet potatoes were found.

After a short halt, we advanced along the county road which crossed the railroad about a mile to the south of the railroad bridge over the Neuse river, on arriving at which place abundant evidences were manifest of a hasty preparation to receive us, abandoned in greater haste, the hoes and shovels used in making rifle-pits and breastworks being left in confusion along the track. Axes were immediately brought into requisition, the telegraph posts cut down and the wires destroyed.

We halted a few minutes just beyond the railroad, and, two companies being sent out as skirmishers to the left, took up our march on the track towards the bridge, which it was the purpose of the expedition to destroy.

This bridge was a magnificent structure, about 200 feet long, and is said to have taken twelve months to build.

The 17th had proceeded but a quarter of the distance, however, when they were opened upon by a battery placed on the track across the bridge, which, having the exact range of our position sent shot and shell into us with terrible accuracy.

The track was immediately cleared, the regiment dividing, taking each side of the railroad, (the bed of which there rose to an elevation of about ten feet,) and gradually advanced towards the bridge. The fire from the battery and sharpshooters on each side of the railroad, became so continuous and heavy that it was difficult to tell whether moving along or laying still was most dangerous; but we kept pressing on, returning the fire as best we could. Our firing was rapid, but, though the bullets flew into where the enemy were supposed to be, yet I doubt if they did much execution.

While advancing cautiously onward, and during one of those pauses in our progress rendered prudent by the iron and leaden hail directed against us, an incident occurred, which impressed me at the time as being truly ludicrous. A Co. K man, named Gately, who was hugging the side of the railroad with commendable zeal, was approached by a rebel of the canine species, which, with that instinct that often approaches to reason, and is at times wonderfully developed in this species of animal, seemed to realize that he was in the midst of danger, and sought the nearest place of shelter. For this purpose, he insinuated himself between the soldier and the ground. The man not relishing the companionship, from prudential reasons, no doubt—an inch of elevation in the position he then was affording so much of an additional mark for bullets or erratic pieces of shell,—endeavored to dislodge him, saying—

"Clear out of this, d—n you!"

But the dog would not stay repulsed, and again returned.

"Give him the butt of the musket!" suggested Phil. Mealley, (another of Co. K's men), "knock him over into the ditch!"

This suggestion was acted upon, and the dog driven off.

As we were marching down the railroad in the first place, and when the enemy opened upon us, the cry was raised among the men—Billy Patterson's stentorian voice being among the loudest—

"Unfurl the flag!"

"Let the d—d rebs see what we fight under!"

"Show them our colors!"

A man named Carney, of Co. I, who was color-sergeant, immediately responded to the call, and shook out the folds of the old 'star spangled banner;' and there he stood on the railroad track, alone, for half an hour, a mark for the enemy's sharpshooters; but, strange to relate, though two of the color guard who were lying down behind him were wounded, and the old flag riddled with bullets, he received not a scratch. This act of true bravery, no matter how ill-advised it might have been, is, I think, deserving of a record, and the honor of this deed should be given to the man who so nobly faced death while upholding his country's flag.

Having progressed in the manner described about half a mile, somebody gave the order, and every one repeated it, to form on the railroad, and charge across the bridge—what for, except to take the battery just beyond, which had so annoyed us, I could not understand. Supposing however, that everything was correct, I scrambled up the bank and took my place with the rest. Then with a shout and a cheer we commenced the charge on the double quick; but had not proceeded twenty yards when, from the skirt of woods bordering the field on our left there came—tr-r-r-r-r—a volley of musketry fired by file, followed in half a minute's time by another volley delivered at once. (I should judge from the length of the line that no less than three regiments fired each time). And then commenced a scene that it would be vain to attempt a description of, especially by an actor in it. In less time than I can relate it, every man who was not wounded, had jumped, tumbled headlong or rolled over into the ditch at the right of the track, and the regiment apparently thrown into the wildest confusion. I have been told that those who witnessed the scene thought for the moment that the 17th were cut to pieces; but were agreeably surprised to see the brave fellows spring up again, and commence a rapid fire upon the enemy, using the elevated bed of the railroad as a breastwork.

There were but four or five men wounded from these volleys. The rebels, evidently mistaking the distance (about 200 yards), and the height of the railroad bed did not fire high enough, and most of their bullets lodged in the bank at the left—an extremely lucky circumstance for us all, as was also the interruption to our progress thus given; for had we crossed the bridge few of us would ever have returned to tell the tale.

When the sound of the first volley struck my ear, I involuntarily turned my head to see where it came from, and I mentally remarked—"What splendid file-firing!" But when the second volley burst out at once, the smaller sounds uniting to swell the volume into a deafening crash, I was too absorbed in calculations upon whether any of the musical messengers of death singing about my ears, were intended for my especial misfortune, and hesitating among the confused mass of men what to do with myself, when, just as a shell burst close over me, I received a knock on the left side which doubled me up, and I toppled over, with the others, head heels into the ditch. The breath was knocked out of me, but sensibility remained; and, strange to say, while falling the short distance down the bank, I made twice over this mental calculation—

"If the bullet [I thought it was a bullet, and went quite clean through me, for I felt the pain equally in both sides] has not gone through my stomach I may get over it. If it has, I'm a goner, sure."

Picking myself up, as best I could, and, with a rueful visage, I suppose, replying to the inquiries of my comrades if I was hit, I took off my blanket, unbuckled my belt, and proceeded to search for the wound. I will freely acknowledge, that at this time my thoughts were not of the most lively character; but, upon searching and finding no wound save a painful bruise, I could have jumped for joy, and felt better pleased than if I had come into possession of the best plantation in North Carolina. In picking myself up after the tumble just described, I noticed the 9th New Jersey, who had advanced down the field to our right, retire on the order at the double-quick. And yet, afterwards, in Gen. Foster's report, this regiment received all the credit for what the 17th had done.

After a while Morrison's battery came thundering along, and got into position in the field at the right of the railroad, and commenced hurling shot and shell into the enemy in fine style.

The men were loading and firing away in splendid fashion, though I think with questionable results, and, catching the spirit of the occasion, I added my feeble quota to their efforts.