"Well, try," said he; "I will peep in shortly and see how you are getting on."
I undressed, and bathed my face. Then I lay down on the bed, pulling a sheet over me. I turned my face to the wall.
I shut my eyes, but not my vision. I saw Ricketts's battery--the First Michigan charge;--the Black-Horse cavalry ride from the woods. I saw the rebel cannons through dust and smoke;--a poplar log in a thicket;--a purple wound--wet clay;--a broken rifle;--stacks of straw.
Oh, the gloom and the shame! What does the future hold for me? for the cause? What is to defend Washington?
Then I thought of my father; I had not written to him; he would be anxious. My eyes opened; I turned to rise; Dr. Khayme entered; I rose.
"You do not sleep readily?" he asked.
"I cannot sleep at all," I said; "besides I have been so overwhelmed by this great calamity that I had not thought of telegraphing to my father. Can you get a messenger here?"
"Oh, my boy, I have already provided for your father's knowing that you are safe."
"You?"
"Yes, certainly. He knows already that you are unhurt; go to sleep; by the time you awake I promise you a telegram from your father."