“Bullets? Do bullets come so near as that?”
“Oh, yes,” he answered cheerfully; “they are flying around here quite thick.”
“Do you consider yourself safe while in this tent? It seems to me the bullets are coming very close.”
“It is considered very safe. The bullets fall a little short you see.”
All the while I sat there I watched the bullets coming over and clipping through the weeds.
Three days from that time an officer was killed while sitting in the same chair on the same spot where I had sat and watched the bullets shaking the weeds.
A PAINFUL ACCIDENT.
THE smoke of the battle-field at Shiloh had cleared away; the dead had been buried; the wounded gathered up, and their ghastly wounds dressed—so that the people who came crowding to the battle-field saw little of the horror of war.
Among the multitudes who came down with supplies and words of sympathy and encouragement was Governor Harvey of Wisconsin, a grand, loyal man. He walked over the battle-field, the scene of the recent terrible conflict, and through the hospitals improvised for the accommodation of the thousands who had been wounded, and over the score and more of steamboats where many of the wounded were quartered.