Thousands of men threw their guns, equipment, ammunition, blankets and clothing into the fields, which afterwards proved a rich harvest for the farmers, who had no crop to gather that season other than that abandoned by our Army and by the many citizens who had accompanied our Army as far as Centerville and Cub Run, a goodly number of them having gone even to Bull Run, the scene of that notable conflict.

As I had been shot in the knee, and the wound had become very painful, I was placed in a wagon, taken to Alexandria and placed in a hospital. Thence word was sent to Mr. Seward of my condition, and was therefore necessarily excused for some weeks. The day after reaching the hospital it was decided that amputation was necessary to save my life. I was placed on a table, and some medical students began preparations to perform the operation, whereupon I raised such lively objections that the old chaplain, Manuel J. Gonzales, later of the Ninth U. S. Cavalry, interfered, and said that I should not be forced; thereupon they de

sisted, and I was allowed to retain my limb. With good medical attention and careful nursing, in a few weeks recovery almost entirely was made, and now, thirty-eight years later, it is only after a severe storm that any pain is felt from the wound.

Soon after I was able to mount my horse, I learned that the picket line had been extended beyond my home at Annandale, and not having heard from my family for some time, I rode out to see them. The effects of war were visible on every side. Just before the battle of Bull Run, Gen. J. E. B. Stewart paid my mother a visit, and informed her that it would be necessary for him to take all the horses, mules and cattle back into their lines, to prevent the Yankees from getting them. He invited my younger brother to become a member of his staff, saying he could keep and ride his three-year-old Morgan colt, a beautiful animal, and that no one should take it from him. So all the stock was driven off, and my brother became a member of his staff.

The trusted overseer, who had been with our family for many years, told my mother that he did not wish "to go to the war," and that he had heard that Missouri was a good State in which to settle as a farmer. She therefore paid him $600 in gold, and he left Fairfax at once with his wife and baby boy. Soon after he had left a company of Stuart's Cavalry encamped in the yard. The Captain said it would be necessary to use the carpets for his men and horses, and to move the piano and furniture back within their lines, as the Yankees might charge in at any time and rob the house. So the beautiful carpets were made into horse blankets, and the piano and furniture in the end confiscated. Shortly after the company retired, leaving the house between the two lines, and as the firing was kept up for some days, it was dangerous for anyone to go out of the house night or day.

My father, being a Union man, found New York a more comfortable and safer place. Being compelled finally to abandon her home, my mother gathered all her portable valuables, including silverware, and putting them into the only vehicle left on the place, the old colored coachman, Ben, was ordered to take them into the Union lines to a neighbor's for safe-keeping, but before he reached the Union picket line he was captured by a scouting party of Confederates, and to this day nothing has ever been heard of driver, horses, carriage or its contents.

Becoming anxious about my mother, who had insisted upon remaining at home, and between two fires, I secured permission from Mr. Seward to be absent three days. He gave me a note to General Heintzleman, commanding at Alexandria, who allowed me 100 men as an escort. We immediately proceeded to my home, and found my mother still there. I induced her to return with me to Washington, where I rented a small house on E street, between Ninth and Tenth, to which my father soon came. He could not, in the excited condition of the country, succeed in his lecturing tours, and the burden of supporting the family fell upon my shoulders-all trying to exist upon my $50 a month.

So, hiring a wagon, in the hope of improving our condition, I bought sixty watermelons for $15, expecting to make at least $20 profit. Loading them into the wagon, I drove to the camp of the

Twelfth New York Volunteers (Thirteenth and K streets), now Franklin Square, and, having lost all confidence in clerks, felt sure of success by attending to my own affairs. As soon as I halted the wagon in camp the boys crowded around to learn the price of

the melons. I sold one for seventy-five cents, and a $10 bill was handed me to change. Just at that moment my attention was called to a soldier slipping away with a melon. I ran after him, but he disappeared among the tents, and I failed to find him. I at once spoke to one of the officers, who said that he would go with me to the wagon, and that he would "fix" any man who dared to take a melon without paying for it. On our return to the wagon not a single melon was found. He then kindly told me to go with him and show him anyone who had taken a melon. We found 500 men eating melons, but they declared with great unanimity and superb equanimity that they had either purchased them the night before, or had just bought them from some one else. So I drove home very much disappointed, but determined to try again.

The next day I hired a man to hand them over as I received the pay, and in that way cleared $40 on three loads. Within ten days I cleared over $400, which I invested in two teams and wagons, and hired them out for $25 a day each, to haul goods for the sutlers, who made it pay by charging accordingly.

At the time of the advance on Richmond by General McClellan I again obtained a few days' leave of absence, and reported to General Heintzleman at Yorktown. In the charge at the battle of Williamsburg, where so many were stuck in the mud, I was shot in the groin. Then I was taken to Fortress Monroe, and the next day sent to Washington by way of Baltimore, where, after a few weeks of careful nursing, I resumed my duties at the State Department.

I still continued my speculations after office hours, and soon had realized over $5000 in cash.

The Union lines were now beyond Fairfax Court House, and I was advised to rent the "Union Hotel," formerly kept by James W. Jackson, and to run a stage to and from Alexandria, which I proceeded to do at once, investing $2000 in the enterprise. I employed a man to manage the hotel and another to run the stage, as I was anxious to retain my office in case of emergency.

These men sent me very encouraging reports, saying the stage was always well filled and the hotel always crowded, but that the soldiers, who constituted the bulk of travel, did not have any money until pay-day, when they would settle. As the demands upon me for horse feed and provisions were so great, and little coming in, I determined to go and see for myself just how matters were. I found that most of the travelers were soldiers who had either been discharged or who were going home, and had been imposing on the men in charge, they believing that a soldier could be fully trusted, having only taken the word of some and the note of others, to be liquidated on the next pay-day.

The night after my arrival at Fairfax four of the horses and all of the stage harnesses were stolen, so I made up my mind to sell at auction what was left, realizing only $100 upon my investment. My patriotic and business friends, who had such confidence in the honor and promises of the soldier, turned over to me notes