the Fifty-eighth Indiana, Colonel George P. Buell. The Sixth Ohio, with the gallant Colonel Nicholas L. Anderson at its head, took position on the right of the Twenty-sixth Ohio, with its right advanced so that its line of fire would sweep the front of the regiments on its left. The Ninety-seventh Ohio and One Hundredth Illinois came up and still further strengthened the right of Hazen’s position. They had not long to wait for the attack. These dispositions had barely been made when a long line of infantry emerged from behind the hill. Adam’s and Jackson’s fresh brigades were on the right, and Donelson’s and Chalmers’s, badly cut up but stout of heart, were on the left. Out they came in splendid style, full six thousand strong. Estepp’s case-shot tore through their ranks, but the gaps closed up. Parsons sent volley after volley of grape shot against it, and the Sixth and Twenty-sixth Ohio, taking up the refrain, added the sharp rattle of their minie rifles to the unearthly din. Still the line pressed forward, firing as they came, nor wavered in the onward march, until met by a simultaneous volley of musketry which stretched hundreds of their number mangled upon the earth. They staggered back, but, quickly reformed and reinforced by Preston and Palmer, advanced again to the charge. The battle had hushed on the extreme right, and the dreadful splendor of this advance is indescribable. The right was even with the left of the Union line, and the left stretched way past the point of woods from which Negley had retired. It was such a charge as this that broke the lines of Wallace and Hurlbut at Shiloh, and enveloped Prentice in its strong embrace. It had no sooner moved into the open field from the cover of the river bank than it was saluted with such a roar of artillery as shook the earth. Men plucked the cotton from the bolls at their feet and stuffed it in their ears. No human force could withstand the tornado of iron that swept against it. Huge gaps were torn in it at every discharge. Men lay in heaps before and behind it. Shells exploding sent showers of mangled forms into the air. They staggered forward half the distance across the fields, when the infantry lines blazed in their front, and a shower of minie balls was added to the fury of the storm. They wavered and fell back. The field was won. Night fell upon a field strewn with the mangled forms of men, who, but twenty-four hours before were buoyant with life and hope, upon the faces of dead men turned upward to the sky; upon long lines of infantry faint for lack of food and gasping for water; upon a horde of panic-stricken men wending their way in solemn procession to the rear, “where the subsequent proceedings interested them no more,” and upon Walker’s and Shackelford’s brigades marching to the front, Garesche, Schaefer, Sill, Roberts, McKee, and genial, happy hearted Fred. Jones, and a host of others were dead or suffering mortal agony.

The first day’s fight was over.