You ought
to see the scene of the wounded arriving at the landing here at the
foot of Sixth street, at night. Two boat loads came about half-past
seven last night. A little after eight it rain'd a long and violent
shower. The pale, helpless soldiers had been debark'd, and lay around
on the wharf and neighborhood anywhere. The rain was, probably,
grateful to them; at any rate they were exposed to it. The few torches
light up the spectacle. All around--on the wharf, on the ground, out
on side places--the men are lying on blankets, old quilts, &c., with
bloody rags bound round heads, arms, and legs. The attendants are few,
and at night few outsiders also--only a few hard-work'd transportation
men and drivers. (The wounded are getting to be common, and people
grow callous.) The men, whatever their condition, lie there, and
patiently wait till their turn comes to be taken up. Near by, the
ambulances are now arriving in clusters, and one after another is
call'd to back up and take its load. Extreme cases are sent off on
stretchers. The men generally make little or no ado, whatever their
sufferings. A few groans that cannot be suppress'd, and occasionally
a scream of pain as they lift a man into the ambulance. To-day, as
I write, hundreds more are expected, and to-morrow and the next day
more, and so on for many days. Quite often they arrive at the rate of
1000 a day.
A NIGHT BATTLE OVER A WEEK SINCE
_May 12_.--There was part of the late battle at Chancellorsville,
(second Fredericksburgh,) a little over a week ago, Saturday, Saturday
night and Sunday, under Gen.
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