“Did you ever know who stole your biscuits that night at Frederick City?” “No.”  “Well, I and Bud Wilson—­” But Captain Nance never allowed John Mathis to finish, for as the light of that far-off truth dawned upon him and seemed to bring back the recollection of that nice brown chicken and the missing biscuits he said:  “No, I’ll never forgive you; go home and don’t try for religion any longer, for a crime as heinous as yours is beyond forgiveness.  Oh, such depravity!” It appears since that two of his most intimate friends had robbed him just for the fun they would have over his disappointment in the morning and the chagrin the Captain would experience, but the biscuits were too tempting to keep.

On the morning of the 17th we were yet ten miles from Sharpsburg, where Lee had drawn up his army around that little hamlet and along Antietam Creek, to meet the shock of battle that McClellan was preparing to give.  The battleground chosen was in a bend of the Potomac, Lee’s left resting on the river above and around to the front to near the point where the Antietam enters the Potomac on the right.  The little sluggish stream between the two armies, running at the base of the heights around and beyond Sharpsburg, was not fordable for some distance above the Potomac, and only crossed by stone bridges at the public roads.  Up near Lee’s left it could be crossed without bridges.  The Confederate Army now lay in a small compass in this bend of the river, the Federal Army extending in his front from the river above to the Antietam below, just above its junction with the Potomac.  That stream rolled in a deep, strong current in the rear of Lee.

Even before the sun had spread its rays over the heights of this quaint old Quaker town sufficient to distinguish objects a few feet away, the guns were booming along the crossings of Antietam.  With a hurried breakfast Kershaw took up the line of march along the dusty roads in the direction of the firing, which had begun by daylight and continued to rage incessantly during the day and till after dark, making this the most bloody battle for the men engaged fought during the century.  In its casualties—­the actual dead upon the field and the wounded—­for the time of action, it exceeded all others before or since.  When we neared General Lee’s headquarters, some distance in rear of the town, D.H.  Hill and part of Jackson’s forces were already in the doubtful toils of a raging conflict away to our left and front, where Hooker was endeavoring to break Lee’s left or press it back upon the river.  Barksdale’s Brigade, of our division, was in front, and when near the battlefield formed in line of battle.  Kershaw formed his lines with the Third, Colonel Nance, in front, nearly parallel with a body of woods, near the Dunker Church, and left of the road leading to it, the enemy being about five hundred yards in our front.  The other regiments were formed in line on our left as they came up, Colonel Aiken, of the Seventh, Lieutenant Colonel Hoole, of