a brigade commander, and that his brigade that day was Hardee’s rear-guard; that his command was composed mostly of the recent garrisons of the batteries of Charleston Harbor, and had little experience in woodcraft; that he was giving ground to us as fast as Hardee’s army to his rear moved back, and during this operation he was with a single aide in the woods, and was captured by two men of Kilpatrick’s skirmish-line that was following up his retrograde movement.  These men called on him to surrender, and ordered him, in language more forcible than polite, to turn and ride back.  He first supposed these men to be of Hampton’s cavalry, and threatened to report them to General Hampton for disrespectful language; but he was soon undeceived, and was conducted to Kilpatrick, who sent him back to General Slocum’s guard.

The rain was falling heavily, and, our wagons coming up, we went into camp there, and had Rhett and General Blair to take supper with us, and our conversation was full and quite interesting.  In due time, however, Rhett was passed over by General Slocum to his provost-guard, with orders to be treated with due respect,—­and was furnished with a horse to ride.

The next day (the 16th) the opposition continued stubborn, and near Averysboro’ Hardee had taken up a strong position, before which General Slocum deployed Jackson’s division (of the Twentieth Corps), with part of Ward’s.  Kilpatrick was on his right front.  Coming up, I advised that a brigade should make a wide circuit by the left, and, if possible, catch this line in flank.  The movement was completely successful, the first line of the enemy was swept away, and we captured the larger part of Rhett’s brigade, two hundred and seventeen men, including Captain Macbeth’s battery of three guns, and buried one hundred and eight dead.

The deployed lines (Ward’s and Jackson’s) pressed on, and found Hardee again intrenched; but the next morning he was gone, in full retreat toward Smithfield.  In this action, called the battle of Averysboro’, we lost twelve officers and sixty-five men killed, and four hundred and seventy-seven men wounded; a serious loss, because every wounded man had to be carried in an ambulance.  The rebel wounded (sixty-eight) were carried to a house near by, all surgical operations necessary were performed by our surgeons, and then these wounded men were left in care of an officer and four men of the rebel prisoners, with a scanty supply of food, which was the best we could do for them.  In person I visited this house while the surgeons were at work, with arms and legs lying around loose, in the yard and on the porch; and in a room on a bed lay a pale, handsome young fellow, whose left arm had just been cut off near the shoulder.  Some one used my name, when he asked, in a feeble voice, if I were General Sherman.  He then announced himself as Captain Macbeth, whose battery had just been captured; and said that he remembered me when I used to visit his father’s house, in Charleston.  I inquired about his family, and enabled him to write a note to his mother, which was sent her afterward from Goldsboro’.  I have seen that same young gentleman since in St. Louis, where he was a clerk in an insurance-office.