...e at Glass's Mill, and plunging through the Chickamauga, leave on its banks a holocaust of dead. 'Tis Blair meeting a fate he had just predicted, and Morel, and Anderson, and Belsom, and Bailey and Daigle ! We laid them shrouded in their blankets, and move to strike elsewhere. Morning finds us on the right. Breckinridge turns the Federal left—we cut them off from Chattanooga. Astride th...