"The hours of the cannonade grew monotonous and oppressive. Again and again caissons were exploded and added to the terrible list of casualties. Wagons and ambulances--such of them as were not wrecked--were driven out of range. Every moment or two the ground shook with the recoil and thunder of our batteries, while the air above and around us seemed literally filled with shrieking, moaning, whistling projectiles of almost every size and pattern in present use. From them came puffs of smoke, sharp cracks, heard above the general din, as they exploded and showered around us pieces of jagged iron. When a shell bursts, its fragments strike the ground obliquely, with a forward movement; therefore our comparative safety behind our rock, which often shook from the terrific impact of missiles on its outer side. So many had now sought its shelter that some extended beyond its protection, and before the cannonade was over two were killed outright, almost within reach of my arm. Many of the wounded, in going to the rear, were struck down before reaching a place of safety. The same was true of the men bringing ammunition from the caissons in the depression beneath us. Every few minutes an officer of some rank would be carried by on a stretcher, with a man or two in attendance. I saw one of these hastily moving groups prostrated by a shell, and none of them rose again or struggled. I only tell you of these scenes in compliance with your wish, Miss Marian, and because I see that you have the spirit of a soldier. I was told that, in the thickest of the fight, the wife of a general came on the field in search of her husband, who was reported wounded. I believe that you could have done the same." "I don't know," she replied, sadly,--"I don't know, for I never realized what war was before;" and she looked apprehensively at Merwyn, fearing to see traces of weakness. His side face, as he sat in the shadow, was pale indeed, but he was rigid and motionless. She received the impression that he was bracing himself by the whole strength of his will to listen through the dreadful story. Again Mr. Vosburgh suggested that these details were too terrific for his daughter's nerves, but she interrupted him almost sternly, saying: "No, papa, I intend to know just what my friends have passed through. I feel that it is due to them, and, if I cannot hear quietly, I am not worthy to be their friend. I can listen to words when Southern girls can listen to bullets. Captain Blauvelt, you are describing the battle exactly as I asked and wished. My only fear is that you are going beyond your strength;" and she poured him out a glass of light wine.