an order to give, and no order could be heard. The line moves ahead or falls back as if it were controlled by a lever, and yet no one can see how. Each man acts for himself, and yet all act together.

There is a struggle over the guns. Men are shot and bayoneted as they ram home the charges. The guns are discharged upon struggling masses not ten feet from the muzzles. Now our lines retreat. Why so we cannot tell. A dozen of us are fighting over a field-piece, shooting, stabbing, and clubbing, but we fall back and reform. Half of the guns are silent, others are pouring grape into us across a space not three hundred feet wide. No one seems to give orders, but all at once our lines move forward again with a cheer. No one sees his right or left hand man. For the time each one is alone. The line bends back-doubles up-straightens out-surges aheadfalls back-springs forward, and again we are among the field pieces. Bayonets and sabers clash. Muskets are clubbed to There is a terrible roar

deal blows after bayonets are broken. a thick smoke-a constant cheering and the horrible nightmare forces a single man to attack a dozen.

Ah! what is this? All at once there is a lull. Men look around in astonishment. Wounds unfelt five minutes ago begin to bring groans now. What has happened? The smoke drifts and the explanation is at hand. We have captured the guns and routed the regiment in support. It was a bayonet charge, resisted by bayonets, and we have won. There are ten acres of meadow covered with dead and wounded-with knapsacks, haversacks, canteens, muskets, and swords, and yet it was only one simple move on the chess-board of the battle field. The guns are turned on the enemy, our lines reformed in rear, and men ask if it is really so, that we stalked in the shadow of death for half an hour. It seems like a dream; it might be a dream but for the awful sights all around us, but for the awful cries coming up from the wounded as thirst and pain do their work.

X-SENATOR POMEROY, of Kansas, states that on March 18, 1861, he and a friend watched a delegation from the secession convention at Richmond, saw them go to Gen. Lee's house at Arlington, heard them offer him the command of the Virginia army, heard him accept, and then hurried back to Washington and told the President. They were referred to Mr. Seward, who repudiated any suggestion of Lee's disloyalty, and refused to take steps. Next day Lee was in command of the rebel army.

Thrilling Experience of a Union Scout.

CAPTURED ON THE STONEMAN RAID.-THREATENED AS A

SPY.-ATTEMPTS TO ESCAPE.

JOHN C. HALL, BELT, MICH.

ENERAL Capron would never surrender; but finding I was too badly wounded to follow him he made his escape with his command from the field. The severely wounded were removed to Confederate Colonel Haskell's house. There

I was pointed out to the Confederate officers by some of our own men as a spy, and was informed that if I lived until the next day I would be hung. That night John Smouse, of the 2d Ind. Cavalry, died from an amputation and was buried at Sunshine Church, and a board with my name, company, and regiment was placed at the head

of his grave. The members of Company E, 14th Wis. Cavalry, can testify to this.

We were now moved to Macon hospital, where my hair and beard were removed and I was known as John Culbert.

A few days before the surrender squads of our men were sent out to destroy railroad and other public property, but the boys frequently destroyed private property and confiscated articles of value to themselves.

My duty as a scout brought me one day to a fine brick residence not far from Sunshine Church, where I discovered some of our boys. I dismounted and went in to see what they were at. I found they had piled some fine furniture on a splendid

piano in the parlor and were about firing it. I tried to dissuade them, telling them that we were not sent down there to make war on defenseless women and children, or to insult them and destroy their property. This only aggravated the boys; they made for me, and it was not until I knocked three of them down with the back of my saber that they could understand me. They then left, I threatening to report them. It occurred to me afterwards, as I lay in hospital at Macon, why I had been pointed out as a spy.

As I recovered from my wound I was allowed the freedom of the hospital grounds. One day I met a paroled Federal officer -a prominent commander in the late disastrous raid. He turned to the guard and said, “You had better take care of that fellow (pointing to me); he is a dangerous man." The guard replied, "Mind your own d―d business. You don't run this thing." I soon found out why I met with so much consideration at the hands of the enemy. The people whose property I saved from conflagration came to the hospital, thanked me for what I had done for them, gave me a roll of Confederate money, and expressed a hope that they might give further assistance.

I soon lost this soft thing, for we were sent to that worldwide renowned pen at Andersonville. Here I saw and heard things too terrible to mention. I can only say that, after all that has been said and written, "the half has not been told,” and never should be. It would be too revolting for human ear. At the end of six weeks I made my escape. The dogs were put on my track, but I managed to avoid them. I wandered in the bush for several days; was captured near Griffintown and taken back to Macon. After five days I walked out into the country and hid in the bushes, making my way the best I could toward the Union lines. After three weeks I was recaptured near Millen and taken to Lawton. I remained there five weeks. I was sent out one morning with the wood squad and forgot to go back. I wandered in the woods several days and nights, until my feet were so frozen that I could not walk. A reb found me, took me to his home, made me comfortable, and in a few days turned me over to the proper authorities, and I was sent to Savannah prison. Escaping again, I went out on a rice plantation and remained secure for three weeks, when I heard they were exchanging prisoners at Charleston, so I went thither

and gave myself up. But here I met with a sad disappointment. I was put on a train with some other prisoners to be sent to Florence. We were put in a box car with two guards. Before reaching Florence we passed over a long trestle work. It was growing dark, and our guards were standing by the open side door lighting their pipes. Quick as a tiger I sprang upon them, pushed them from the car, and they fell clear off the bridge. Their guns went off when they struck the trestlework, but I have never heard from the guards. At the first stop I escaped from the train, secure in the darkness. I wandered about several days, but becoming exhausted, I surrendered to General Iverson, at Florence, who, in spite of all the unpleasantness between us at Stoneman's surrender, treated me very kindly. I remained at Florence until March, 1865, when I was exchanged and rejoined my old regiment.

CARVED HIS OWN HEADBOARD.

SINGULAR DEATH OF A SERGEANT-MAJOR.
BY OLIVER EDWARDS, BREVET MAJOR-GENERAL, U. S. A.

REMONITIONS of death in battle prove false a hundred times to one; but I will relate an instance where it proved true, that occurred within my own command, the 4th Brigade, 2d Division, 6th Corps. It It was at the close of a charge upon the enemy's lines, with my brigade sheltered from heavy volleys of grape and canister by a slight rise of the ground in front. The regiments were prone in line, and night closing in rapidly. One of my regiments (the 10th Mass., Col. J. B. Parsons), their time expiring that night, had their orders to proceed to City Point the next morning and embark for home. Sergt.-Maj. George F. Polly at this time carved upon a shingle, or slab, his own headboard, as follows: " Sergt.-Maj. George F. Polly, 10th Mass. Vols. Killed at Petersburg,

Va., June 21, 1864"-the date being
for the next day, when he knew the
regiment was going home. He handed
the headboard to a comrade and in-
sisted that he would be killed the
next day. At daylight next day the
regiment was relieved from duty and
marched to the rear of Sugar Loaf
Hill, and halted to draw rations. On
the top of the hill two negroes were on
a scaffold to be executed for rape. The
rebels fired one shell from a twenty-
pound siege gun. The shell passed
over the hill and burst.
over the hill and burst. A large frag-
ment struck Sergeant-Major Polly, in-
stantly killing him. He was the only
man hit, and that, too, in a position
where he seemed perfectly safe. Any
member of the brave 10th Mass. then
present can vouch for the truth of the
above.