Our hero was certainly a poor specimen of the men who fought at Alma and Sebastopol, if, indeed, he ever saw the Crimea, which is very doubtful. In justice it ought to be noted that he was not a Massachusetts man by birth. His men, however, on this occasion showed a good deal of gallantry and, under Lieutenant Brown, of the same company--=his= name needs no concealment--they stood their ground like good soldiers until the enemy retired. The writer is not prone to saying harsh things, but he cannot forget the many bullets shot at him by the above regiment and that a whole platoon of them once opened fire on him and a young lady in whose company he was at the time, actually cutting off with their balls portions of the lady's headgear. He also remembers a degrading proposition made to him by some of them--that he should inform them as to what rebels in the neighborhood were in good circumstances, with a view of plundering them, the rebels, and dividing the proceeds with the informer. The officer whose conduct in the skirmish was so discreditable would have been left to oblivion, had not his behavior to some ladies of the place been as disgraceful as his cowardice in battle. But, notwithstanding all this, his name is mercifully omitted. Early in October Mr. A. H. Herr, proprietor of the Island of Virginius and the large flour mill on it, having a large quantity of wheat which he could not grind into flour--his mill having been partially destroyed by some federal troops under Lieutenant Colonel Andrews, brother of the governor of Massachusetts, in order to prevent the confederates from using it--and being a union man at heart, invited the government troops to remove the grain to Maryland. There being no bridge across the Potomac at the time, a large boat was procured and a company of the 3rd Wisconsin regiment impressed the few able-bodied men at the place into the service of the government to take the wheat from the mill to the boat and ferry it across with the aid of the soldiers. The citizens were promised a liberal per diem, but that, like many other good promises and intentions, forms a part of the pavement of a certain region where it never freezes. Even the sacred person of the future historian of the town was not spared, and many a heavy sack did he tote during several days, under the eye of a grim Wisconsin sergeant who appeared to enjoy immensely the author's indignation at his being put to this servile employment. Like the recreant soldier at Sing-Sing, the historian derived no benefit on this occasion from the smattering of different languages with which he is credited, while the sergeant was indifferent as to the tongue in which the writer chose to swear or to the number of anathemas he thought proper to vent against the world in general and soldiers in particular, he took care that the hapless author did his full complement of the work. Suddenly, on the 16th of October--the