the rumbling of wagon wheels, and the incessant roar of the cannonading. There is still heavy fighting on the left, but as yet the rebels have the advantage.
Bed-time again. I hope my bed-fellow of last night has a comfortable cabin berth now, to repay her for the weary hours passed here.
The wounded have come in which belong to this corps and the Fifth—three hundred in number—and all with bad wounds. The fighting continues, and our troops are in Petersburg, and rapidly pushing forward. Two from our regiment have arrived, and we expect more to-night. Oh, how my heart throbs with its anxious waiting. Who may those wounded be?
The procession pours in constantly. We have men from the Fifth, Twenty-fourth, and Second Corps, besides our own men, and it is almost impossible to give them the necessary attention. It is dreadful to see the suffering, and hear the groans, and know that you cannot ease one throb of their pain.
We have a hundred wounded rebels, and some will die. All night they were coming in, and many prisoners have passed to City Point. One little boy of only seventeen years, from a Carolina Regiment, has both legs off, and a wound in his wrist. How can we ever forget such sights as meet us here at every turn?
