skirmishing going on near us (down about the distillery), and
occasionally round-shot from twelve or twenty-four pound guns came
through the trees in reply to those of Schofield, and we could hear
similar sounds all along down the lines of Thomas to our right, and
his own to the left; but presently the firing appeared a little
more brisk (especially over about Giles G. Smith's division), and
then we heard an occasional gun back toward Decatur. I asked him
what it meant. We took my pocket-compass (which I always carried),
and by noting the direction of the sound, we became satisfied that
the firing was too far to our left rear to be explained by known
facts, and he hastily called for his horse, his staff, and his
orderlies.

McPherson was then in his prime (about thirty-four years old), over
six feet high, and a very handsome man in every way, was
universally liked, and had many noble qualities. He had on his
boots outside his pantaloons, gauntlets on his hands, had on his
major-general's uniform, and wore a sword-belt, but no sword. He
hastily gathered his papers (save one, which I now possess) into a
pocket-book, put it in his breast-pocket, and jumped on his horse,
saying he would hurry down his line and send me back word what
these sounds meant. His adjutant-general, Clark, Inspector-General
Strong, and his aides, Captains Steele and Gile, were with him.
Although the sound of musketry on our left grew in volume, I was
not so much disturbed by it as by the sound of artillery back
toward Decatur. I ordered Schofield at once to send a brigade back
to Decatur (some five miles) and was walking up and down the porch
of the Howard House, listening, when one of McPherson's staff, with
his horse covered with sweat, dashed up to the porch, and reported
that General McPherson was either "killed or a prisoner." He