A little incident occurred here which I shall relate. Among the fatally wounded was an officer who, from his uniform, we knew to be a captain. The poor fellow had been shot through the head, and was about to breathe his last. Thinking to relieve him, Captain (afterwards Colonel) Herbert unbuttoned his coat, when he discovered a pocket-book and a package of letters in one of the pockets. Taking possession of them, he attended the wounded officer until he died. Upon examining the pocket-book, he found it contained some sixty-five or seventy dollars in gold; the letters were from his wife, and proved his name to be Brown. Two years after Captain Herbert was wounded and taken prisoner upon the field of Gettysburg. He had never parted with the gold nor the letters, and when sufficiently recovered from his wounds, he caused to be inserted in the New York _Herald_ an advertisement calling upon the widow of the deceased officer to come forward and claim the property. In due time she made her appearance, a charming Scotch woman, not, as she said for the sake of claiming the money, but to hear from his own lips all about the last moments of her husband. She had received an imperfect account of his being shot from some of his men, but wished to learn of his death. Never shall I forget the look of gratitude she gave the Captain when he finished his story, (for the author was present at the interview,) and seizing his feeble hand, while great tears stole down her beautiful cheeks, she heaped upon him a thousand blessings. She was our constant attendant for a week afterwards, and when she left us, seemed much affected. We subsequently learned from her that a valuable and highly-prized watch that her husband had on his person when shot, had been recovered with much difficulty, one of his own men having appropriated it after his Captain’s fall. Resuming our march, the column crossed the Stone Bridge, and took the turnpike leading to Alexandria, confident that we were to pursue the enemy to the very gates of his capital. But we were doomed to a bitter disappointment; for, after marching a mile or two, we came to a right-about, and silently retraced our steps to Manassas. Tired, hungry and dispirited, we reached our camping ground long after nightfall, and, despite a drenching rain that set in about 12 o’clock, enjoyed a refreshing sleep. CHAPTER III.