Last to Cross.
As I was passing over the bridge a few cavalry videttes passed me. I shall ever believe we were the last Confederates who crossed the bridge, for that had also been fired and was now in flames on one side.
As I climbed the slope beyond the bridge, the rising sun was just beginning to peep over the eastern hills.
I turned and looked back; the city of
Richmond was in flames.
From all the windows of the
Gallego Mills tongues of flame were bursting out; dense clouds of smoke, sparks and flames were reaching skyward.
Were I a painter, even now, after thirty-two years, I could paint the scene.
The sight was awfully grand.
I felt the end was nigh.
After gazing on this sublime spectacle for a time, I trudged on in pursuit of my command.
After proceeding about a mile, I met
Mr. Davis, father of
Dr. H. Wythe Davis, of your city, and brother-in-law of
Colonel Knight, who lived nearly opposite
Wilton.
He was on horseback,
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and insisted upon my taking his horse.
I declined to do so at first, but he remarked that I had better take him, because if I did not the
Yankees certainly would.
He had dismounted and tendered me the bridle.
I took it, mounted; we shook hands and parted, he to return to his home, and I to follow and overtake my command.
About 1 o'clock P. M. I overtook them, and we proceeded together with other commands, things being a good deal mixed.
