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having ordered a guard to the relief of the six men left at the grove, he retired to his quarters.

For three days the place was closely watched by small details of armed men, who relieved each other at regular intervals; but no enemy was seen, nor were the mysterious bullets again discharged during that period.

Accordingly, believing that the foe, by some means or other, had effected his escape, on the first night of his "debut," the colonel ordered the guard, which was much needed for other duties, to be withdrawn. Shortly afterward, the stream near the grove became a favorite resort of the men, who sought its cool, clear waters to refresh themselves with a bath. One morning, about ten days from the time of the withdrawal of the guard, Tom K- — and Bill T left their tent for the

purpose of enjoying a good wash in the stream before reveille. A brisk walk of twenty minutes' duration enabled them to reach the bank, and they were soon after sporting together like "young gods," in the refreshing element. Presently, plunging into the water, side by side, they struck out for a race, and Tom, who was the most powerful swimmer of the two, had passed a few yards ahead of his companion, when his ears were suddenly saluted by a whizzing noise, followed by a sound something between a gurgle and a groan. The latter noise evidently proceeding from his companion. Tom hastily turned himself around. The arm of his friend was alone visible, raised above the surface of the stream, the water of which, at that place, was stained with blood. Surprised and horrified, he lost no time in making his way to the spot, when, with a quick dive, he grasped his sinking comrade about the waist, and bore him to the surface just in time to receive his farewell gasp, as the poor fellow's soul fled into eternity.

The temple horribly torn and shattered proclaimed that he had been struck by a bullet-the mysterious bullet of the unseen foe!

Having gained the bank, Tom deposited the dead man

upon the ground, and looked around him. But he could see no sign of an enemy.

At the same moment, he heard footsteps approaching along the road, which he surmised were those of a picket guard which had been sent out on the day previous, and was now probably returning to the camp.

Hastily dressing himself, Tom eagerly awaited the approach of his comrades, in order to acquaint them with that which had just taken place, while he continued to keep his eyes fixed keenly upon the grove.

Presently, the guard made its appearance, and Tom lost no time in relating his story to the horrified listeners, who gazed upon the body of the dead man with feelings of mingled grief and indignation, which the fate of their comrade, who had been a great favorite with all, was well calculated to excite.

"By heavens!" exclaimed the captain, fiercely, "that 'bloody reb,' whoever he is, must be concealed somewhere about this grove, and we'll see if we cannot find some means to unearth the rascal. Front!" he added, drawing his sword. "Are your pieces all loaded?"

The Zouaves answered in the affirmative.

"Now, men, aim straight for the grove. We will see what virtue there is in cold lead for rousing this invisible fellow. Ready!-aim!-fire!"

The volley of musketry crashed upon the air; and at the same moment we all heard a wild, unearthly cry, which seemed to proceed from the bowels of the earth, directly ahead.

"Forward!" shouted the captain, exultingly, and the next moment we were all in the grove. But no enemy nor even the trace of one could be discovered.

'Boys!" said the captain, "the devil himself must have a hand in this business. I can make nothing of it."

We returned to camp carrying the dead body of poor Bill — between us; and the whole regiment was again roused

to a pitch of wonder and excitement when our story was told to them.

By the colonel's orders a guard detail was again dispatched to the grove with orders to maintain a most vigilant watchparticularly at night.

Bill T was buried that same afternoon, and in the evening, Tom wrote a letter to the brother of the deceased, giving an account of his melancholy fate.

"Boys," said our company cook next morning, as the men stood clustered near his fire, discussing the melancholy affair of the previous day, "I am short of wood, and as the logs have all disappeared hereabouts, I know of no place so handy where any can be got, as at that very grove about which you are all talking. Suppose you take three or four axes and knock over some of those oaks. They'll make capital firewood."

Knowing that our dinner depended upon the cook's supply of fuel, we cheerfully complied, and shouldering three or four axes, we were soon on our way to the place of which the cook had spoken.

The guard, of course, offered no objection to our entrance, and we were soon plying our axes vigorously.

"Halloa, boys, this tree is hollow!" suddenly exclaimed one of the men, as he struck his axe against the trunk, which was of very large circumference.

We looked towards him as he spoke, and saw him repeat the blow, when, to the surprise of all present, a piece of the trunk, which it was evident, had carefully been sawed from that part of the tree and afterward fitted in so as to be taken out and replaced at will, fell to the earth, revealing an aperture about the size of a man's hand.

"Good heavens! look here!" exclaimed the Zouave, as he peered through the hole, "here's a sight, boys!"

We advanced, and each man in his turn peered into this novel contrivance, when a spectacle was revealed, which was well calculated to excite feelings of horror and astonishment.

As we have previously remarked, the tree was of large circumference, and found to be hollow. In this hollow we now beheld the white ghastly visage of a corpse, with staring eyeballs and face smeared with blood! Two or three bullet holes in the trunk of the tree proclaimed the manner of his death, for it was evident that the volley of the picket guard on the day before had accomplished the work.

The hiding-place of our enemy was discovered!

With our axes we soon laid bare enough of the trunk to reveal the whole person of the rebel, who stood in an upright position, and still held clutched in the stiffened fingers of his left hand a curious looking weapon, which, upon examination, was found to be an air gun! Through the aperture in the trunk, he had taken aim and discharged this noiseless rifle upon our men, replacing the slide in the opening when they approached.

Over his shoulders was slung a haversack, which was found to contain enough provision to last for nearly a week, and it was thus made evident that the rebel had remained in those close quarters during the time the grove was so vigilantly guarded on the occasion to which we have alluded. After the withdrawal of the guard, he had made his exit, but only to return again with a fresh supply of provision and ammunition. The result is already known to our readers.

We will now inform them that the trunk of the tree, owing to a lightning stroke or some other cause, was hollow from the base to the top, and was not more than fifteen feet in height. Two or three gnarled and crooked limbs projected outward near the opening in the summit, around one of which the rebel had fastened the end of a slender rope, which extended to the bottom of the cavity, thus affording him the means of entering the retreat or of making his exit from the same. The formation of the branch, covered as it was with a thick growth of leaves, had prevented our men from seeing the end of the rope where it was fastened.

Thus secure from observation in his curious quarters, the

rebel had been enabled to send forth the messenger of death by means of a gun which gave no warning note of its presence save the spiteful whiz of the bullet it discharged.

AMONG all the correspondence that has come to our notice from those connected with our armies, none has charmed us more than that of Mr. B. F. Taylor, of the Chicago Journal; his powers of delineation are unexcelled, and his pen pictures of scenes and incidents on the field of battle will prove gems in our literature. His is a rare gift, and is possessed by but a few. The people are greatly indebted to him for his beautiful as well as invaluable record of facts that have come to his knowledge. Mr. Taylor, in a recent letter from the Army of the Cumberland, gives the following picture of a night's ride of the wounded brigade, after the battle of Chickamauga:

RIDE OF THE WOUNDED BRIGADE.

They were loaded upon the train; two platform cars were paved with them, forty on a car. Seven cars were so packed you could not set your foot down among them as they lay. The roofs of the cars were tiled with them, and away we pounded, all day, all night, into the next morning, and then Nashville. Half of the boys had not a shred of a blanket, and it rained steadily, pitilessly.-What do you think of platform cars for a triumphal procession wherein to bear wounded heroes to the tune of "The Soldier's Return from the War?" But the stores of the Sanitary Commission and the gifts of such ladies as are now, I believe, making your city a Bethela place of angels-kept the boys' hearts up through all those weary, drizzling hours.

It is midnight, and the attendants are going through the train with coffee, graced with milk and sugar-think of thattwo fresh, white, crisp crackers apiece, and a little taste of