with the bridle reins hung over his arm. Traveller, becoming frightened
at something, suddenly dashed away, threw him violently to the ground,
spraining both hands and breaking a small bone in one of them. A
letter written some weeks afterward to my mother alludes to this
meeting with his son, and to the condition of his hands:

"...I have not laid eyes on Rob since I saw him in the battle of
Sharpsburg--going in with a single gun of his for the second time, after
his company had been withdrawn in consequence of three of its guns
having been disabled. Custis has seen him and says he is very well,
and apparently happy and content. My hands are improving slowly,
and, with my left hand, I am able to dress and undress myself, which
is a great comfort. My right is becoming of some assistance, too,
thought it is still swollen and sometimes painful. The bandages have
been removed. I am now able to sign my name. It has been six weeks
to-day since I was injured, and I have at last discarded the sling."

After the army recrossed the Potomac into Virginia, we were camped for
some time in the vicinity of Winchester. One beautiful afternoon in
October, a courier from headquarters rode up to our camp, found me
out, and handed me a note from my father. It told me of the death
of my sister Annie. As I have lost this letter to me, I quote from
one to my mother about the same time. It was dated October 26, 1862:

"...I cannot express the anguish I feel at the death of our sweet Annie.
To know that I shall never see her again on earth, that her place in
our circle, which I always hoped one day to enjoy, is forever vacant,
is agonising in the extreme. But God in this, as in all things, has
mingled mercy with the blow, in selecting that one best prepared to
leave us. May you be able to join me in saying 'His will be done!'