instructed to retreat slowly and in case our rear guard, composed of infantry and cavalry, should find it necessary to make a stand, I was to go into battery. The right and center sections had gone far ahead of me, as the road was not cut up so bad for them, and it literally seemed, in the language of the poet Horace, that the "Devil would take the hindmost." After the first mile we came to a long, deep bed of sticky mud. I rode in advance, and found that about a half mile ahead there was a little knoll of cleared land, comparatively dry, and skirted by a high, worm fence of good oak rails. So I went back and ordered an advance. By pushing hard, we were able to move our tired teams. Before we had made 200 yards, we were stalled. Then we all, non-commissioned officers, privates and myself, put our shoulders to the wheels and made another 200 yards. We were all wet inside by sweat and outside by mud and water. Never have I seen men do better. At last, somehow, near morning, we reached the knoll, a mile and a half from camp, physically used up. The caissons in front with guns to the rear, we drew up by the roadside and replenished the smouldering fires with rails. Our horses, poor things, were reeling, scarcely able to stand under the weight of their harness.

One of the buglers had been detailed to accompany me, and I sent him forward to report to the captain our condition and to ask for orders. Meantime, the colonel in command of the rear guard sent word that the rebel skirmishers were pressing him hard, and that he could not hold them back much longer. I roused the weary men and sent a sergeant to select an easier way through the fields. Before he reported, the bugler returned with orders from the captain to destroy and throw away my ammunition. I had never disobeyed an order, but in this case I knew that we had a short supply of ammunition for our 12-pound Napoleons in all the Tennessee valley; that guns without ammunition were useless, and so I hesitated. One round was thrown into the mud by a corporal, who heard the report of the bugler to me. I immediately stopped further destruction and proceeded to place my pieces in battery for opening upon the advancing rebel lines, and I had asked our infantry to unmask our front so that we could have a clear field. I gave the order to "load with solid shot," and immediately my men were as active as ever under the excitement of a fight. Before the order was executed I heard my name called, and an officer reported to me with four fresh, 6-mule teams.

General Burnside had burned a large quartermaster's train in order to save his artillery and its ammunition. The arrival of the mules prevented the destruction of our ammunition and the skirmish which I had arranged. I was informed that I should make all haste, as General McLaw had been sent by the Kingston road to cut off our retreat. The two roads, one from Kingston and one from Loudon, intersected a mile south from Campbell's Station. The drivers unhitched their horses and were sent on ahead in order to be out of our way. As soon as the mules were attached to our guns and caissons, they were started, and away they went, through the deep mud, up hill and down, until they passed safely the Kingston road about 10 A. M., and we parked in the open field with the rest of our battery.

A sharp fight took place at the junction of these roads, in which our people more than held their own. We made some coffee, ate a little corn bread, and all of us felt young again. My men and myself were still covered with mud. While our battery and its division were halted, columns of troops were rapidly moving forward and deploying north of the village of Campbell's Station. The position was this: Here was an opening in the woods about three miles long from north to south, and from a mile to a mile and a half in width. The south end was higher than the middle. From the middle to the north was quite a rise of from fifty to 100 feet, where was spread out a broad plateau, which commanded the whole open tract of land. The village was in the lowest part of the tract. Upon the plateau at the north, General Burnside was placing a portion of his troops, including three or four light batteries.

Our battery soon had orders to move, and on we went, followed closely by our rear guard, which itself was closely pursued by the rebels. Our front line of battle was partially in the village of Campbell's Station, protected very well by the buildings. Our battery did not halt until we arrived upon the plateau. Soon we were assigned a position to protect our extreme right and right flank. After getting into position, we had nothing to do but to observe the movement of the enemy. We soon beheld a splendid exhibition of war. The rebel skirmishers first appeared in the open, carefully examining the ground to find if we had a concealed line of battle near. They soon advanced a half mile or less and found no opposition. There they rested, and we soon saw the rebel columns debouch from both the Loudon and the Kingston roads. At last there came a battery of 20-pounder rifled guns, with several white horses, and went into position on the right of the road.

This battery we had often met in the East. It was one of the batteries of the Washington corps of artillery of New Orleans. This was an excellent battery. The enemy soon formed two strong lines of battle clear across the open country, about 200 yards apart. Light batteries came forward, halting in front, and took positions between the brigades. On the flanks the cavalry was seen in the open woodland. This scene was all spread out before us. In all our great battles, such as Manassas and Antietam, we rarely saw more than a fourth of a mile of our enemy's line.

About 12 M., the signal was given, and the rebel lines, with flags flying and batteries firing, advanced against us. The fighting for the last forty-eight hours had evidently convinced Longstreet's veterans that they had worthy foes to meet. Four rifled batteries planted upon the brow of the hill, under General Burnside's personal directions, opened rapidly upon the enemy's lines of infantry, paying no attention apparently to the enemy's artillery fire. The very first discharge sent havoc into their first line and killed a color bearer. In five minutes their heavy lines were fearfully torn, but still closing up and keeping up a wonderful alignment they moved right on. To us spectators, it seemed that they would overwhelm our own lines of battle. The enemy had not stopped to fire a rifle, neither had our infantry discharged a piece. Suddenly a change came over the wonderful scene. The Twenty-third Corps opened with terrific volleys, followed closely by the Ninth. The lines of the rebels halted, opened fire and sought such cover as the surface of the ground afforded them.

Soon the smoke of battle shut in the grand scene and we looked to our own commands. The Washington artillery began throwing over our way its twenty-pounder compliments. As the flank of our battery was nearly in line with the fire from the rebel battery, it seemed sometimes as if they would rake our whole front. Fortunately for us, they did little damage. Lieutenant Benjamin, chief of artillery, paid his special attention to the Washingtonians, and the result was that they were satisfied to keep quiet, one of their guns burst in full view, and this seemed to take their attention away from us.

Soon a regiment or two of the enemy were seen to pass to our extreme right under cover of the skirting woodland and into the wood. At once we were ordered to open fire upon this piece of woodland with shell and shrapnel. We sent