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[419] rode past he told me he was wounded, and ordered me to the front with the colors. You could not but admire the splendid manner in which the rebels advanced. It was no retreat, but a confused rout. Passing through town, women were shrieking and wringing their hands. Major Morrison endeavored to form the Sixty-sixth for a rear-guard. Some distance out we found the Sixteenth in divisions across the road. Crowds of fugitives were flying through woods and fields. I noticed the calm demeanor of a lieutenant of artillery who, covered with dust, rode with drawn sword beside his cannons, which were so much useless baggage now. Without intending any invidious comparisons, here let me mention some whose names deserve to be remembered: Major Morrison, of the Sixty-sixth; Aid-de-Camp Osborne; Lieut. O. J. Smith, of the Seventy-first; Captains Beachbard, Redfield and Moore; Lieutenants Stephenson and Thompson; and Sergeant Western, of the Sixteenth. There were two color-guards, whose names I have forgotten, who deserve to wear medals of gold for their heroism. Doubtless others were as brave, but I notice these.

The day was lost; not a shadow of hope remained. As the setting sun shone in golden bars through the dust, into the minds of some, who, faint and wounded, were looking on it for the last time — perhaps to some yet uninjured — came a thought of that prophecy fulfilled at Flodden, and their lips murmured the lines:

In the last battle, borne down by the flying,
Where mingle war's rattle with groans of the dying.

Major Orr told me we were surrounded — the enemy in our rear — we were overwhelmed — surrounded — lost! Still from behind came their shots. A shell passed over my head, killing a man just before me. His horse leaped high in air, and the blood-spouting corpse fell to be trampled with cannon-wheels and ruthless horses' hoofs. Soon we came upon the rebel cavalry drawn up in line, cutting off all retreat. Gen. Manson, with Col. Lucas and Major Orr, tore down the fence, thinking they could get to the enemy's rear.

Myself with others followed. It was a ride for life. Riderless horses went plunging by. Away we went through woods and fields, up hill and down. Catching sight of their cavalry to our right, we wheeled to the left, but the chase was soon ended. Coming through a corn-field into a ravine, a squadron of rebel cavalry drawn up poured in a volley. All turned; my horse threw me. As I fell I heard some one scream. My foot caught in the stirrup. As my frantic horse dragged me along, a horrible death seemed before me. I wished I had fallen in the heat of the battle; but my foot got loose. The ,rest swept by, and I was left with the rebels upon me — a prisoner. Col. Wolfe had given me that noble horse that morning; his rider had been killed the day before. Well had he borne me all that day, scarcely moving, when a shell burst near him. I had hoped Gen. Manson had escaped, but he was soon brought in. The volley had killed his horse, which, falling on him, had for a time completely disabled him. He finally crawled to the fence and gave himself up. Thus was the Federal army defeated at Richmond.

Another account.

Cincinnati, Sept. 5, 1862.
On my return to the city this morning, I find that the interest which might otherwise attach to a detailed account of the battles fought near Richmond, Ky., last Saturday, has not only been partially overshadowed by more important events in other parts of the country, but to some extent removed by the statements of officers and others, made public in various newspapers, who have preceded me from the field of battle. Still, “a round, unvarnished tale” of the events of that ever-memorable engagement, from the pen of any one present, cannot be wholly without interest to the people of Ohio, Indiana and Kentucky, and especially to those whose husbands, fathers, brothers and sons there offered up their lives in the defence of liberty, religion, order and law. I therefore propose to write my version of the affair. It is impossible for any one man to see all of a general engagement between thousands of men. I did not see all of this one, but I did see a good deal of it. I propose to describe only so much of it as I witnessed, together with such information, obtained from sources believed to be perfectly reliable, as may be necessary to render my narrative complete.

In a former letter I stated that troops had been pouring into Richmond from morning till night, and that the number then in camp near that place could not be less than twelve thousand. I was informed that as many as ten or twelve regiments had arrived; and from what I had myself seen, I was quite confident that the number was not over — estimated. Since then, however, I have learned that our entire force did not exceed eight thousand men. Of these not more than seven thousand were effective; and of that number not more than four thousand, if so many, were at any one time engaged with the enemy. The Ninety-fifth Ohio, Twelfth, Sixteenth, Fifty-fifth, Sixty-sixth, Sixty-ninth and Seventy-first Indiana, Eighteenth Kentucky, and about five hundred cavalry from Colonels Metcalfe and Munday's commands, together with Andrews's and Lamphere's Michigan batteries, comprised our entire strength. The aggregate of men in the Eighteenth Kentucky and Fifty-fifth Indiana did not exceed seven hundred. All the other regiments were of the new levy. None of them had ever been under fire, and most of them had not had arms in their hands a fortnight.

Friday evening, Col. Metcalfe's cavalry reconnoitred the country between Richmond and Big Hill, the place from which they so ingloriously fled the Saturday previous. When in the vicinity of their former exploits, they encountered their old enemy, Col. Scott, of the First Louisiana

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