movement, then a left, and then a center, and each time get back behind their works with great loss. But they are not having all the losses, for our army is suffering fearfully too. We hear great cheering to our right, and can tell that it is a charge from our side, for we can always tell the difference between the hellish yells of the enemy and the manly cheering of the union men. The Irish brigade, under the great and brave General Meagher, are on the charge, with their sleeves rolled up, and they mean heavy business. They are trying to dislodge the enemy from behind a stone wall on the heights. For awhile the contestants on either side cease, and all look on the gallant brigade going for-. ward on their forlorn hope. They charge up the hill, bearing aloft the green flag of Ireland and the stars and stripes. Thousands of the enemy are waiting behind the wall to cut them to pieces. I have heard it said by a rebel who was behind the wall at the time, that they were loth to fire on such brave men; but they were their enemies, and were forced to do so. Volley after volley is poured into the brave brigade. They close up the gaps in their ranks, forward on the double-quick with wild cheers, and soon have a hand to hand fight with the enemy. They do not get reinforced for some reason, and have to fall back against fearful odds. Surely such men ought to be remembered by all true Americans, for no greater supporters are in the country than the brave Irish volunteers. Let bigots grumble about the Irish, but this country is their country, and no power can gainsay it, for they fight for it, and do everything to make it a home for them and for the oppressed of every nation, who like themselves, have to flee from the land of their birth.

Our men try the enemy's lines in different places, and

each time get repulsed with great loss, and night puts an end to the great battle. On the night of the 15th our army retire across the river, for it would be sheer madness to attempt to break the enemy's lines and take the heights. So we get back to our our old camps, after losing abut fifteen thousand men in killed and wounded, and accomplishing nothing.

CHAPTER XXII.

BUILDING WINTER QUARTERS-A SOLDIER'S FUNERAL-FURLOUGHS-FEELING IN THE NORTH-SCENES AND INCIDENTS-AT THE FRONT AGAIN.

The

It is evident now that all movements of the army is at an end for a while at least. Each corps, division, brigade, regiment and company, is assigned camping grounds, and all are told to build winter quarters, and make ourselves as comfortable as we can. The forests around this country are stripped of their trees for houses and fire-wood. walls of our houses are built of logs, and covered with shelter tents, with a nice cosy fire place at one end, made of brick or stone, with a mud and stick chimney. They are very comfortable houses, with plenty of blankets and a bed of long poles. The sutlers are all up again, and supply us with what delicacies we can afford.

When one of our men die in the hospital, all who can, go to his funeral. It is one of the most selemn things of the soldier's life, to witness the burial of one of his comrades. One might suppose that a soldier is so used to seeing death on the battle-field, that he is hardened to every

thing, but it is a mistake, for when one dies in camp he is
mourned over as much as those at home mourn over their
friends. The soldier has the most acute feelings for his
suffering comrades, and sympathize with the loved ones
who have lost their relative or friend. The poor soldier
dies away from home; no relative is near by to comfort
or sympathize with him in his last hour, but his comrades
gather around him and give him the burial of the warrior.
He is laid out in his uniform of blue, in a plain, rough
coffin, over which hang the stars and stripes. The mourn-
ful procession commences its slow march, headed by the
band. Oh, how solemn are the strains as they are taken
up by the chilling breeze. His comrades follow close be-
hind, marching with reversed arms. The solemn proces-
sion halt at the lonely grave, when the coffin is lowered
into the earth. "Ashes to ashes," are the words said by
the man of God. The volleys are fired over the departed
hero, and he is left to rest in
battles and fatigues are over.
to the wakening notes of the
bugler, but will be wakened on the last day by the clarion
notes of St. Michael's trumpet, to appear before the great
Captain, who commands the heavens and the earth, and all
contained therein.

peace. Poor comrade, thy
No more shalt thou respond
reveille by the regimental

Now the army is lying peaceably in winter quarters and I would like to go home on furlough; so obtaining a blank, I fill it out and send it along through the regular channels to have it approved. It is first signed by the Company commander, then by the Colonel of the regiment, then by the Brigade commander, then Division, and finally by the Corps commander. So it takes quite a while for it to get up and down the regular channels, causing a good share of anxiety to the poor soldier for fear it would come back dis

approved; and so he is in fever heat all this time. At last the furlough comes back covered all over with signatures, and now hurrah for a twenty days' leave, which don't take long to pass by, especially when they are days of pleasure; and a soldier, after the hardships of campaigning for nearly two years, can appreciate a little pleasure and enjoy himself among his friends at home. After taking a short farewell of my comrades, I start for Acquia Creek to take the boat for Washington. Arriving at the Creek, I find there great crowds on the wharf waiting to get aboard, and with my leave of absence in my pocket have to wait 'till all the snobbery and shoulderstraps get aboard, so as to take up all the good places on the boat. At last the word comes to get aboard, and the crowds rush on, and soon every available spot is taken up. A few of us try to get into the cabin to lie down on the floor for the night; but no, there is a sentinel on guard at the stairway, and none but officers can pass as usual. Oh, this is what makes the soldier hate himself and all others, for he thinks a dog is thought more of than he is, and is made to feel his degradation more and more 'till he arrives out of reach of shoulderstraps. After rousting about on the boat all night, we arrive safe in Washington. Here we think we can enjoy freedom with the rest; so making our way to a restaurant for some breakfast, have to take it in the roughly fitted-up room for the common soldier, while inside are our more favored comrades under shoulder straps, eating in a luxuriously fittedup apartment, which we have to pay for as a general thing. Going to the depot to take the train for Baltimore, and thinking we can take any car on the train, are politely told by an usher that we can't get into that car, a first-class one; there is a car for you said he, pointing to one better adapted for hogs than men. For once I disobey orders,

and tell him I must ride in any car, as I have paid for a first-class ticket. The conductor cries all-aboard, and myself with a few other soldiers get into a first-class car, as we mean to maintain our rights. The conductor comes around and tells us to get into the other cars. Acting as spokesman for the party, I ask him what kind of fare our tickets call for; he sees that they are first-class. He does not put us off, and leaves us in peace. At last we arrive at Baltimore, and take the train for Harrisburg, where we feel more at home, for now shoulderstraps are getting at a discount, and the soldier is as good as the officer. We thunder along through the Alleghanies and arrive at Pittsburg, which is as smoky as ever. Here the soldiers are always

treated well by the citizens, who will always be remembered with gratitude by every soldier who passed through that city. Taking the train for Cleveland, we have no more trouble to get as good fare as there is. We arrive at the Forest City and are soon off for Toledo, and thence for the City of the Straits, in our own Michigan. Arrived at Detroit, I take the Great Western, and soon reach my friends. Of course they are glad to see me, and I spend a few days in quiet and rest. Generally the people of Canada are not favorable to the Union cause, and I have to do some talking to uphold the cause I fight for. the country is overrun with skedaddlers and deserters from the United States, who are protected by the government of England. The South has its quota of inhabitants in Canada, who are allowed to concoct their plans for any move they can make against our government. The British are doing all they can and dare to help destroy our union of states; but let them work, for Great Britain and hell itself cannot destroy our country. We have to stand some of their insolence now, as in such cases as the Mason and Slidell affair; but