high its serpent head. Only a little handful now—they had known wounds, sickness, battle, all but death, and were "going home."
The troops marched the short three miles. Those feet were inured to longer and harder journeys than this, and with glad cheering they took the cars in Washington. The glorious old North, whose sons had conquered, was about to receive back into her welcome arms, from the sufferings of three years, the little band which remained of the strong host she lent to save the honor of the Republic.
Two of our regiment remained behind at Tenlytown, too ill to be removed—private Lester, from Binghamton, and private Cronk, from Waterbury. Both seemed to be doing well, and anticipated the same journey which we were about to take. But, alas! for human hopes! With the end in full view, all dangers and privations of war safely passed, Death met them in the tented hospital, and both sleep in the land of the stranger.
At the depot I bade adieu to many more of my boys—those from New Hampshire and Massachusetts who would take other trains for Baltimore. It was hard to part with noble Fred Emmerson, who had been at the head of the cookhouse so long, in the hospital, and had favored me again and again when messing for the sick and wounded.
One of the genuine good hearts which never fail you, he had scores of friends, and deserved them all.
Before we started, I saw the boys piling stones into the cars, which I was sure meant mischief for
