We returned from the chase after the retreating rebel army and slept that night in our tents in our old camp.

The morrow sun looked upon a different army from the one of the day before, a change so vast that even a private soldier could discern it had taken place.

I would smile to see the general that could take the same men and build miles of breastworks in one night now. To me the respite from duty was not so pleasant as it was to my comrades. With the prospect of battle my whole being had been stimulated and unstrung to the highest tension and with the evacuation came my own collapse. I had not been well since the battle of Mill Springs, when I waded Fishing creek on January 19 and took sick with measles on the 21st. On the morning of June 1 I was unable to arise.

I can never forget the loving care my comrades gave me during my sickness. The great majority of these dear comrades have passed away. But there are still some whom I am permitted to meet at each regimental reunion, and the meeting is a joy that cannot be expressed. Soldiers had a dread of the hospital and would struggle along with their company as long as possible. Often their comrades would volunteer to do their duty, thus shielding them from the doctor's inspection, which might be the means of sending them to that dreaded place. 'Ten chances in battle rather than one in the hospital,' was a saying common among soldiers, and these men were close observers. If a man was wounded he was sent north, where he would receive humane treatment, but if stricken with disease he must weather it out in a temporary hospital; and, perhaps, it would be located in some filthy, abandoned camp.

When orders came for our division to move there came a weeding out of the weaklings, and I was sent to the hospital. I felt as one abandoned to fate, and noticed that the boys said 'Good-bye' very sadly. I was taken to the old seminary east of Corinth. The place was pleasantly situated and the accommodations good. There was no regular nurses. The convalescent cared for the weaker ones. I came under the care of Pat Hagan, and Irish boy of about my own age. He belonged to the Eighth Missouri and was a true Irishman, chuck full of humor and blarney and possessed of a big, kind heart.

The next cot to me was occupied by a Missouri boy, scarcely 16 years old. He had been very sick, but was now so far recovered that he was able to sit up, and a strong friendship sprang up between us immediately. Our histories were soon exchanged and a sympathetic or kindred feeling beyond us together with a "David and Jonathan love."

My fever increased and the old doctor increased the doses of quinine and whiskey until I became oblivious to the present, but not so with the past. Ten years previous to this I went with my father to an adjoining farm to harvest, it being the custom at that time for farmers to exchange work with each other. There I saw a tall, red-cheeked girl clad in a blue calico dress and a pink gingham sunbonnet. This was about the extent of her wardrobe. She was barefooted like myself. This I remember distinctly because later in the day she stumped her dear little big toe against a cruel stone, and I sympathized with her because I was walking guardedly in order to protect a very sore toe that had met the same fate the day before.

By the way, did any one ever see a barefooted farm boy during the summer season that was without a stumped toe? Now I had seen lots and lots of girls before, but for some reason or other this was the first one that had looked really fair to me. I was spell-bound. I could not speak; I only stood and feasted my eyes upon the charming face of the beautiful creature before me. Long after this I read Campbell's poem, 'The Pleasure of Hope.'

"The world was sad, the garden was a wild,

And man, the hermit, sighed 'til woman smiled."

I remembered laying my head upon the ball of the empty bucket and, by looks only, asked if I could go along to the spring for the next pail of fresh water. I was still dumb; I could not speak, but she understood and smiled a consent. That smile settled the matter. I was her slave. Now the girl was about six years my senior, but what did that matter? Don't all very young boys fall in love with older girls? And don't the very old boys fall in love with the young girls?

If all fever-stricken ones have the same bliss that I enjoyed while delirious, we should envy and not pity. I again lived over the beautiful long ago, with all the unpleasant parts eliminated. Every desire gratified, every dream realized. I walked beside the tall, red-cheeked girl as we followed the little winding brook that led to the spring at the bottom of the hill. I helped her dip the bucket full of the sparkling water. Then she held the dipper to my mouth while I drank long draughts of the cool, refreshing water; and all the time while drinking I was looking into her beautiful eyes and imbibing the old intoxicant that has enslaved men in all ages.

Pictures of Childhood

Then I would take another flight to other places fair and pleasing. the flabby blue drilling breeches, with only one suspender; the frayed old straw hat that had been my weapon in all my bumble bee battles, all of these were replaced by just such elegant ones as I had longed for. The big toe that had met so many bumps was well and finely encased in shining morocco.

I owned bob-tailed horses that could fly and Shanghai buggies as high as a house. I was king in the village of Greenbush, where all the pretty girls lived. I was loved and caressed. My cup of happiness was full.

Then came a change. I realized that I was sick and in the hospital. I died and was buried in one of the graves in the long row east of the seminary. Then, the boys from my own company came and dug me up and brought me back to the ward and gave the old doctor the worst cursing I ever heard for allowing them to bury me alive. When I opened my eyes and looked around all was confusion at first, but gradually things became righted. The first one I recognized was Pat Hagan.

"Ah, me poor boy," said Pat, "ye have been having the devil's own toime 'ave it, but ye're all right now. The doctor said ye're fever would soon break."

I was fully awake now to the true situation. The pleasant dream was ended and I was disappointed.

The sunshine had faded and the shadows were falling.

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