I fully realized this, and quite satisfied with my row, put back for shore. The wind had increased, and I now noticed, for the first time, that some dark clouds were coming from the west. I had a good mile to row against the wind, which, as well as the waves, was every moment increasing in violence. I was yet a quarter of a mile from the dock in which the boat belonged, when a regular squall came on. Then I had a time of it. Throwing off my coat and hat, and placing them in the bottom of the boat, I grasped my oars and pulled away with all the strength and energy I possessed. I made rather slow time, and when within one hundred yards of port, perceived that I was just making out to lie still against the wind. I was nearly exhausted, and felt like throwing down my oars in despair; but seeing what a short distance was yet to be accomplished, I nerved myself for a final effort; and such a battle as I had with the wind and waves no one need want to engage in. After ten minutes of the most strenuous exertion, I arrived in the dock, trembling from exhaustion, perspiring from exercise, and wet all over with spray. I concluded, taking my narrow escape into consideration, that rowing in the harbor was no delightful recreation, and solemnly vowed never again to venture out there in a row-boat. I kept my word faithfully till next afternoon; when the weather being very delightful, I broke it, went out again, and had a very pleasant row in the same boat. At four o’clock one evening I left Baltimore for Harper’s Ferry, _via_ the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, having first sent my trunk back to Philadelphia by express. I arrived at Harper’s Ferry by nine o’clock. A great many soldiers were there—for it will be recollected that the war was not yet ended—and I found it difficult to secure a comfortable lodging. Every private house was acting the part of an hotel, furnishing supper to many soldiers and a few sorry-looking travelers; while those desiring a night’s lodging were packed into rooms at the rate of from seven to twenty-seven in each. By paying a few dollars extra, talking politely, and pretending that I was not in the best of health—although I eat an astonishing supper for an invalid—I succeeded in securing a small room to myself, to which I retired immediately after supper; and having carefully fastened the door, I lay down on a clean bed and slept comfortably till the morning. CHAPTER XII. HOW SMITH TRAVELED A-FOOT—AND MORE. WHEN morning came, I tried for an hour to get a conveyance to Sharpsburg, near Antietam Creek, twelve miles distant; but in vain. Not a horse or carriage of any kind was to be had for love or money; and I made up my mind to walk it, although I had never yet walked any such distance on one leg. When a man makes up his mind to do a thing, however, he will do it, if he has firmness, no matter whether he has any limbs or not.