I remembered the heat of the past day, and the thunder.  Yet it was hard for me to believe that I had been unconscious for six months—­but, no; he was not saying I had been unconscious for six months—­nobody could live through such a state—­he was telling me that I could not remember what I had known six months ago.

“What month is this?” I asked.

“June,” said he; “June 4th.”

“From October to June is a long time,” I said.

“Yes, and many things have happened since October eighteen fifty-nine,” said he.

“Doctor, are you serious?” I asked.

“On my honour,” said he.

“And I have lost eight months of my life?”

“Oh, no; only the memory of the past, and that loss is but temporary.  You will get right after a while.”

“And what have I been doing for the past eight months?”

“That is what I’ve been trying to find out,” said he; “I am trying now to find your regiment.”

“There you go again about my regiment.  Do you expect me to accept that?”

“You said you could trust me,” he replied; “why should I deceive you?  Tell me why you think I may be deceiving you.”

“Because—­” said I.

“Because what?”

“I fear that you are hiding a worse thing in order to do me good.”

“But I gave you my word of honour, and I give it again.  These hills around you are covered by an army.”

“Where are we?” I asked, in wonder.

“We are near Richmond; within five miles of it.”

“What Richmond?”

“In Virginia.”

“And what brought me here?  Why should I be here?”

“You came here voluntarily, while you were in good health, no doubt, and while your mind acted perfectly.”

“But why should I have come?”

“Because your regiment was ordered to come.”

“And why should there be an army?”

“Because your country was invaded.  You volunteered to defend your country, and your regiment was ordered here.”

“Country invaded?  Volunteered?”

“Yes.”

“Then we are at war?”

“Yes.”

“With England?”

“No; not with England, with the United States.”

I laughed gayly, perhaps hysterically.

“Now I know that this is a dream,” said I.

“Why?”

“The idea of the United States being at war with itself!” I laughed again.

“Take this,” said he, and he gave me another potion.  He waited a few minutes for the medicine to affect me.  Then he said, “Can you remember how many states compose the United States?”

“Thirty-three, I believe,” said I.

“There were thirty-three, I suppose, in eighteen fifty-nine,” said he; “but now there are not so many.  Eleven of the states—­the most of the Southern states—­have seceded and have set up a government of their own.  We call ourselves the Confederate States of America.  Our capital is Richmond.  The Northern states are at war with us, trying to force us back into the Union, as they call it.  War has been going on for more than a year.”