“He is wounded, Frank,” said the nearest bystander.

“Show it to me,” said Frank.

In the evening paper, which was placed in his hands, he read a single line, but of fearful import:  “Henry Frost, wounded.”  Whether the wound was slight or serious, no intimation was given.

Frank heaved a sigh of comparative relief.  His father was not dead, as he at first feared.  Yet he felt that the suspense would be a serious trial.  He did not know how to tell his mother.  She met him at the gate.  His serious face and lagging steps revealed the truth, exciting at first apprehensions of something even more serious.

For two days they remained without news.  Then came a letter from the absent father, which wonderfully lightened all their hearts.  The fact that he was able to write a long letter with his own hand showed plainly that his wound must be a trifling one.  The letter ran thus: 

“Dear Mary:  I fear that the report of my wound will reach you before this letter comes to assure you that it is a mere scratch, and scarcely worth a thought.  I cannot for an instant think of it, when I consider how many of our poor fellows have been mown down by instant death, or are now lying with ghastly wounds on pallets in the hospital.  We have been through a fearful trial, and the worst thought is that our losses are not compensated by a single advantage.

“Before giving you an account of it from the point of view of a private soldier, let me set your mind at rest by saying that my injury is only a slight flesh-wound in the arm, which will necessitate my carrying it in a sling for a few days; that is all.

“Early on the morning of Thursday, the 10th inst., the first act in the great drama commenced with laying the pontoon bridges over which our men were to make their way into the rebel city.  My own division was to cross directly opposite the city.  All honor to the brave men who volunteered to lay the bridges.  It was a trying and perilous duty.  On the other side, in rifle-pits and houses at the brink of the river, were posted the enemy’s sharpshooters, and these at a given signal opened fire upon our poor fellows who were necessarily unprotected.  The firing was so severe and deadly, and impossible to escape from, that for the time we were obliged to desist.  Before anything could be effected it became clear that the sharpshooters must be dislodged.

“Then opened the second scene.

“A deluge of shot and shell from our side of the river rained upon the city, setting some buildings on fire, and severely damaging others.  It was a most exciting spectacle to us who watched from the bluffs, knowing that ere long we must make the perilous passage and confront the foe, the mysterious silence of whose batteries inspired alarm, as indicating a consciousness of power.

“The time of our trial came at length.