He stated he had fallen asleep and had been left, and at once surrendered to her. On reaching her home, although it was not yet sunrise, she started over on foot to the point where the heaviest fighting had taken place, that she might learn the fate of her brother, Major Marcellus N. Moorman, who commanded a battalion of artillery in the Second Corps. He had not been in the fight, as the battalion had not reached Lynchburg until during the night of the 18th. His command had started in the pursuit when she left home on her mission, but she met him on the battle-field going to tell his mother good-bye. Thus another son of Lynchburg was in line to battle for her defence. On the extreme right of the Confederate lines, and on a part of what is now the farm of Senator Daniel, was stationed the brigade in command of Colonel Aug. Forsberg, then a stranger in the city, and here merely by the accident of war. On the right of his brigade was the Thirtieth battalion of Virginia infantry, under the command of Captain, now Judge, Stephen Adams, who, on the breaking out of the war, was a practicing attorney of West Virginia. He had married Miss Emma Saunders, of Lynchburg, but was then a stranger thrown into the line of defence of the city by the like accident. Captain Adams, after he became a citizen of Lynchburg, purchased the very land on which his men were that day formed in line of battle, and has often dug up pieces of shell and bullets which were fired at him. He now preserves them as pleasant reminders of the past. Both Captain Adams and Colonel Forsberg are now valued citizens of Lynchburg, and we owe them a debt of gratitude for their gallant efforts in its defence. It is not generally known that a few of the Federal shells were thrown into the city, but such was the case. The writer has in his possession a part of a three-inch percussion shell, shot from a rifle cannon, which fell in what was then known as "Meem's Garden," near the spot where the Catholic Church of the Holy Cross is now situated. His mother lived in the immediate vicinity of the place where it exploded, and, when the sound was heard, one of the servants ran over and picked it up, and it was thus preserved in the family. The blood-stained and battle-torn little command of Breckinridge reached Lynchburg on the 16th of June. Up to that moment no one in the city had hoped that the place could be saved from Hunter's vandalism by the cordon of boys, cripples and irregular troops which surrounded it, and there was an anxiety which cannot be described; its depth may be imagined, but the pen cannot paint it.