I WAS captured at Gettysburg on the fifth day of July, 1863. A bullet had passed through my right knee during the fierce engagement on Culp's Hill, July 3rd, and I fell into the hands of the Federal Army. By the 6th of July Lee had withdrawn from Pennsylvania, and, despite the serious nature of my wound, I was removed to the general hospital, Frederick City, Md. Here for, at least a month, I was under the charge of the regular army surgeons, at whose hands I received excellent and skillful treatment. For this I have ever been grateful. I recall, also, many kindnesses shown me by a number of Catholic Sisters of Frederick, whose special duty was the care of the sick and the wounded.

: An Original Compilation With Photos From The American Civil War Authored by Wharton Jackson Green, & Henry E. Shepherd. Compiled by J. Mitchell

I WAS captured at Gettysburg on the fifth day of July, 1863. A bullet had passed through my right knee during the fierce engagement on Culp's Hill, July 3rd, and I fell into the hands of the Federal Army. By the 6th of July Lee had withdrawn from Pennsylvania, and, despite the serious nature of my wound, I was removed to the general hospital, Frederick City, Md. Here for, at least a month, I was under the charge of the regular army surgeons, at whose hands I received excellent and skillful treatment. For this I have ever been grateful. I recall, also, many kindnesses shown me by a number of Catholic Sisters of Frederick, whose special duty was the care of the sick and the wounded.

On this, the initial day of a new-born century, I begin a work long held in contemplation, namely, the compilation of the Memoirs of a somewhat eventful life of a commonplace sort, covering the greater part of the century just ended; historically speaking, the most eventful of all the centuries. Probably, no epoch of like duration is more replete with books of a reminiscent character. To avoid the suspicion of presumption in venturing to launch a new book of a similar sort upon an already over-booked era, be it known from the start, that the self-imposed task is not essayed for futurity, finance, or ephemeral fame. Hence, neither maelstrom, nor iceberg, nor hidden shoal holds out terrors for my puny venture. True, it is intended for posterity, but posterity in a very restricted sense - my own and that of kindred, and of a few tried friends, who have urged the undertaking. If some of these may, perchance, find a kernel of profit out of the mass of chaff attendant, my idle half-hours in the postmeridian of life will not have been entirely misspent.

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