“No, I thank you,” I rejoined. “I am on my way to Keedysville, and was just looking at this barn, which I recognize as one in which I lay for some days after the battle here.” “Ah,” said she; “were you one of the wounded ones who occupied the barn?” “Yes, ma’am. Who is the owner?” “Mr. Pry—my husband.” “I have been on the battle-ground,” I observed, “trying to find the place I was when wounded.” “And did you find it?” “I am sorry to say that I failed,” said I. “A pity. Where did you come from to-day?” “Harper’s Ferry.” “How did you get up?” “Walked.” “Walked! You surely did not walk it on one leg?” “Yes, ma’am, and this crutch and cane. I reached Sharpsburg by dinner-time, and have spent the afternoon in rambling over the battle-field and visiting Smoketown.” “You surprise me. I did not suppose a person on crutches could do all that.” “Nor did I till I tried it.” “Well, you must go no further to-night. You were our guest before, and must be again, now that we are better prepared to accommodate you.” “Why, really, I——” “You musn’t think of going any further. Why, you’ve walked twenty miles to-day—and on a crutch! No, indeed, you must not pass my house. Come in. Mr. Pry is just coming in to supper. Come, no excuses.” I did not further decline the proffered hospitality of this excellent lady. I was ushered into the house, and was made no less welcome by Mr. Pry, his sons and a beautiful and amiable daughter. An excellent supper, a pleasant evening chat, a tidy bed, a comfortable chamber, and, O, such a delicious, dreamless slumber, after my day’s exertion, made me forget all my weariness; and I awoke next morning—the beautiful Sunday morning of March twenty-sixth—with all the vigor of youth. Never let me forget the Pry family for their cordial welcome and hospitable entertainment! CHAPTER XIII ROMANCE IN JOHN SMITH’S “REAL LIFE.” THAT Sunday morning I determined to visit the battle-ground again, and try to find that part of the field on which I had had the honor to be shot; then walk to Hagerstown, a distance of twelve miles. Having discovered, the previous day, that I was something of a walker, I now thought nothing of going that distance on foot. My excellent friends urged me to stay till Monday morning, but I declined. I have now to record a little incident such as we sometimes read of but seldom gain cognizance of through our own auricular and optic organs. It may well be termed a “Romance in real life.”