“A glorious report!” cried the wounded man, enthusiastically. “That repays me for this painful wound on my head, and lying around in the hospital insensible for I know not how many hours. It was a grand charge our men made,—right in the face of bristling bayonets, shot and shell from the ‘gray coats.’ Our captain commanded the right wing, the second lieutenant the left, while I occupied the central position, and, in the doublequick charge that we were making, something struck me on the head, just as our boys crossed over a little brook, and then—well, I knew nothing more until just now, when I came to my senses in this improvised hospital.” As he concluded, he let his eyes wander about the small, dimly-lighted room. The captain looked at Hugh, and shook his head doubtfully. “Perhaps you would like to send a report to the commander of your brigade, comrade?” “Good idea,” said Mr. Horton. “By the way, as we whipped the ‘rebs,’ communication with the North is still open, and I would like also to send a few lines to a noble little wife away up in Massachusetts.” “Let me be your amanuensis,” said Hugh, drawing his chair to the captain’s table, and arranging some writing material. “Thank you, sir; are you ready?” “Quite ready,” replied Hugh. “Hospital near Fortress Monroe. “To Captain Lyman Osborn, 29th Mass. Inf.: “Will join the company to-morrow. Am all right with the exception of a scalp wound, which is somewhat painful. Have had a good sleep and feel refreshed. Expect me by noon. “Your obedient servant, “Lieut. Hugh Stanton.” When the wounded man had finished dictating his report he uttered a moan, and pressed his hand against the painful wound on his head. Hugh lifted his eyes to Captain Osborn, and saw that the old veteran’s face was ashen white. The startling revelation had also dawned upon Hugh, and nis hand trembled violently. Captain Osborn controlled his feelings, and, with iron-like firmness, remarked, “Excellent report, comrade, splendid! Now, suppose you dictate a short letter to your wife, and I will see that it is posted on the north-bound train that leaves here within an hour.” Mr. Horton was evidently in great pain. He lay with closed eyes for a few minutes, as if waiting for the throbbing of his head to cease, and then said: “Oh, I hope the garbled telegraph reports have not numbered me among the missing. It would break the little woman’s heart to read such a report as that in the newspapers.” “I am ready,” said Hugh, huskily. “Very well; say Fortress Monroe—don’t date it at the hospital; it would only cause her needless anxiety.” “All right, I will do as you request,” replied Hugh.