play so conspicuous a part in this day's tragedy? They are in line of battle, just fronting that frowning hill, from which heavy batteries are belching forth shell and shrapnel with fatal accuracy. The men are lying close to the ground; hours pass, and the deadly missiles come thick and fast on their mission of death. See that shattered arm; that leg shot off; that headless body, and here the mangled form of a young and gallant lieutenant, who had braved the perils of many battles. That hill must be carried to rout the enemy; a terrible chastisement has been inflicted upon him; with immense loss he had been driven from his position two days previous — this is his stronghold. This captured, rout is inevitable; exceedingly strong by nature, but rendered more so by the works thrown up the night before. It is a moment of great emergency; if unshrinking valor or human courage can carry those heights, it will be done. General Pickett receives the order to charge those batteries at the opportune moment. The cannonade still goes on with intense fury; our batteries are handled with great skill. This battery and that limber up, advance to the front, wheel into action, and again the roar of cannon becomes almost deafening. Our shells seem to burst with terrible accuracy; now a caisson of the enemy's is blown up — quickly another follows — their fire slackens — the order comes to advance. That flag which waved amid the wild tempest of battle at Gaines's Mill, Fraser's Farm, and Manassas, never rose more proudly. Kemper, with as gallant men as ever trod beneath that flag, leads the right; Garnett, with his heroes, brings up the left; and the veteran Armistead, with his brave troops, move forward in support. The distance is more than half a mile. As they advance the enemy fire with great rapidity; shell and solid shot give place to grape and canister; the very earth quivers beneath the heavy roar; wide gaps are made in this regiment and that brigade; yet they quickly close up and move steadily onward. That flag goes down. See how quickly it again mounts upward, borne by some gallant man who feels keenly the honor of his old Commonwealth in this hour which is to test her manhood. The line moves onward, straight onward — cannons roaring, grape and canister plunging and ploughing through the ranks — bullets whizzing as thick as hailstones in winter, and men falling as leaves fall when shaken by the blasts of autumn. In a double-quick, and with a shout which rises above the roar of battle, they charge. Now they pour in volleys of musketry — they reach the works — the contest rages with intense fury — men fight almost hand to hand — the red cross and gridiron wave defiantly in close proximity — the enemy are slowly yielding — a Federal officer dashing forward in front of his shrinking columns, and, with flashing sword, urges them to stand. General Pickett, seeing the splendid valor of his troops, moves among them as if courting death by his own daring intrepidity. The noble Garnett is dead, Armistead wounded, and the brave Kemper, with hat in hand, still cheering on his men, falls from his horse into the ranks of the enemy. His men rush forward, rescue their General, and he is borne mortally wounded from the field. Where is the gallant Williams? The First is there, but his clear voice is no longer heard — he has fallen lifeless, and there goes his horse now riderless. There stand the decimated ranks of the Third; and Mayo, though struck, stands firm with his faithful men, animating them to yet more daring deeds; but Callcott, the Christian soldier, who stood unmoved amid this carnival of death, has fought his last battle; no sound shall awake him to glory again, till the summons of the great Judge, announcing to him the reward of the faithful soldier, who has fought the good fight. Patton, Otey, and Terry, who, but a moment since, stood at their respective regiments, are wounded. The brave Hunton, hero of Leesburgh, most worthy successor of the noble Garnett, Stewart, and Gant, lies wounded. Carrington, his gallant regiment shattered, stands firmly, flaunting defiantly his colors in the very face of the enemy. Allen and Ellis killed. Hodges, too, has fallen, and the modest, chivalrous Edmunds lies numbered with the noble dead; Aylett wounded, and Magruder has gone down in the shock of battle. The fight goes on — but few are left; and the shrinking columns of the enemy gain confidence from the heavy reenforcements advanced to their support. They, too, are moving in large force on the right flank. This division, small at first, with ranks now torn and shattered, most of its officers killed or wounded, no valor able to rescue victory from such a grasp, annihilation or capture inevitable, slowly, reluctantly fell back. It was not given to these few remaining brave men to accomplish human impossibilities. The enemy dared not follow them beyond their works. Such was the fate of the general and regimental officers — longer is the list of junior officers, and still longer the roll of the “unknown dead” --men who endured privations without murmur, hardships difficult to realize till actually experienced without complaint, with few opportunities of realizing any distinction which ambition might covet as the reward of meritorious conduct, save a soldier's grave; and yet they bore them all, and willingly would they have submitted to a severer lot in vindication of their country's liberty. The Confederacy can find no reward worthy the noble bearing of its private soldiers. Night now approaches; the wounded are being borne off to their respective hospitals; many with slight wounds plodded along, leaving the ambulances to their less fortunate comrades. With night the battle closed, our army holding the same position from which it had driven the enemy two days previous. One by one the stars came out in the quiet sky, and over that field of carnage hung the sweet influences of the Pleiades. In the series of engagements a few pieces of artillery and eight thousand prisoners were captured by our army. Our loss in killed, wounded, and missing, supposed about ten thousand, whilst the enemy, we understand, acknowledges a loss of thirty thousand. The army of Northern Virginia--with zeal unabated, courage intrepid, devotion unchilled, with unbounded confidence in the
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