To hope to keep the barns from which they had driven the sharpshooters was vain, for the single Maine regiment found itself opposed to portions of no less than four Confederate brigades, at least a dozen regiments all told. When the men got to the orchard fence, Sergeant Benson wrenched apart the tall pickets to let through Hyde's horse. While he was doing this a shot struck his haversack, and the men all laughed at the sight of the flying hardtack. Going into the orchard there was a rise of ground, and the Confederates fired several volleys at the Maine men, and then charged them. Hyde's horse was twice wounded, but was still able to go on. No sooner were the men in blue beyond the fence than they got into line, and met the Confederates, as they came crowding behind, with a slaughtering fire, and then charged, driving them back. The color corporal was still carrying the colors, though one of his arms had been broken; but when half-way through the orchard Hyde heard him call out as he fell, and turned back to save the colors, if possible. The apple-trees were short and thick, and he could not see much, and the Confederates speedily got between him and his men. Immediately, with the cry of "Rally, boys, to save the Major," back surged the regiment, and a volley, at arm's-length, destroyed all the foremost of their pursuers: so they rescued both their commander and the flag, which was carried off by Corporal Ring. Hyde then formed the regiment on the colors, sixty-eight men all told out of two hundred and forty who had begun the charge, and they slowly marched back toward their place in the Union line, while the New-Yorkers and Vermonters rose from the ground cheering and waving their hats. Next day, when the Confederates had retired a little from the field, the color corporal, Campbell, was found in the orchard dead, propped up against a tree, with his pipe beside him. A CHINESE CREW. Over the mantel in Grandfather Sterling's dining-room hung the picture of a great Newfoundland dog, painted so true to life that it seemed possible to run one's hand through the masses of rough curly hair as the big honest brown eyes looked down wistfully at the table just below the heavy oak frame. One winter day when Ralph Pell and his grandfather met at breakfast-time, a northeast wind was whistling around the corner of the old mansion, and hurling the snow with a musical tapping against the window-panes. The white-haired sailor looked up at the picture of the noble animal, saying, with a touch of affection in his voice: "Well, Nero, good old fellow, this is one of the kind of days you used to love. How you enjoyed plunging and rolling into a big snow drift, and making the white flakes fly!" "Grandpop," said Ralph, "you have never told me about Nero. Did he ever go to sea with you?" "Go to sea with me, boy? Why, Nero was first mate with me once, and a good one, too, when I had a Chinese crew on my vessel."