The enemy has gone, and the storm of battle has subsided. We can now quietly walk over the terrible field, and examine its gory wake. In the final charge, the second Mississippi, with the exception of one regiment, was on the extreme left wing of the Confederate army. Just at the time that Kirby Smith’s bayonet flashed like lightning into the cloud of battle, a young officer was seen to wave his sword, and fall to the earth with a groan. It was Ernest Edgefield. [Illustration: Decoration] CHAPTER VII. AFTER THE BATTLE. Sometimes in battle a soldier suddenly finds himself prostrated to the earth. He knows not what has happened. A dizziness comes over him. Then he glances down at his limbs, and discovers that he is bleeding. He knows he is wounded, but he cannot tell to what extent. It may be a fearful shot which will end his mortal existence the next moment, or it may be only a severe shock that has touched no vital part. When Ernest fell, it was a moment before he could clearly comprehend what had occurred. One of his company ran to him, and asked: “Are you much hurt?” “Yes; I fear I have received a long furlough.” The soldier tore off some of his clothing, and, after a brief examination, said: “It is a severe wound, Captain, but I don’t think it is fatal. Shall I stay with you?” “No, no, go on with the boys. Never mind me. We have whipped them, thank God, and I can die, if it is His will, with a clear conscience. Go on with the boys.” The soldier gathered up his military implements, and pushed on with his comrades in pursuit of the flying foe, and Ernest was left alone with the wounded, dead and dying. Presently he fell into a train of thought as follows: “Perhaps this is another warning. I have totally disregarded what Mr. Hillston says is my call to the ministry. Shall I now promise God, as I lie here, that I will yield to the call, if He will spare my life? No; for I cannot believe that I am called of God. Why does not God give me some reliable evidence, if He really wants me to be a minister? I shall wait a while yet. But suppose I die?” He could not make up his mind to preach. At six o’clock, an elderly gentleman, with an honest, open, benevolent countenance came to the spot where Ernest was lying. He was the first wounded soldier the gentleman reached. “What is your condition, my young friend?” he asked in a kindly voice. “I am wounded here in the side,” said Ernest. “Could you travel in a buggy a few miles?” “I think I could, sir.” “Then, if you can, I would be pleased to take you to my house, where you can have proper attention and good nursing. Will you go? I will assist you into the buggy.” “Yes, sir; I will accept your kind offer. How far do you have to go?”