thought only of vengeance. All the horses on two of the guns of the 7th Indiana Battery are shot down; another charge is beginning; those two guns might be lost; they must be gotten back. Quick as thought a company of infantry spring to the guns, one hand holding the rifle, the other on the cannon, and with the shot falling thick and fast in and about them, drag the guns over the brow of the ridge and down into the woods, just in the rear of our lines, and hasten back again to take their places in line, ready to meet the on-coming charge. An artilleryman is shot down; a man from the infantry takes his place and obeys orders as best he can. When the charge begins our men are lying down. Now, in the midst of it, so great has become the excitement, so intense the anxiety, all fear and prudence vanishes, and the men leap to their feet, and fire and load, and fire and load, in the wildest frenzy of desperation. They have lost all ideas of danger, or the strength of the assailants. It was this absolute desperation of our men that held our lines. A soldier or officer is wounded; unless the wound was mortal or caused the fracture of a limb, they had the wound tied or bandaged as best they could, some tearing up their blouses for bandages, and again took their places in the lines beside their more fortunate comrades. Each man feels the terrible weight of responsibility that rests on him personally for the results that shall be achieved that day. It is this thought, this decision, this purpose and grand courage that comes only to the American Citizen Soldier, who voluntarily and with unselfish patriotism stands in defense of principle and country, that makes such soldiers as those who fought in our ranks that day. On through the afternoon until nightfall did that furious storm beat against and rage about us.

Near night, Gen. J. J. Reynolds, who commanded that portion of the line immediately on our left, informed us that the lines to our right and left had been broken, and directed that we should fall back to the range of hills in our rear; and so, reluctantly, our men fell back after an afternoon in which they had helped to hold at bay the flower of the “Army of Northern Virginia” and of the Confederacy; and though suffering terribly in loss of men, our portion of the line had not lost a flag nor a gun.

A night of pinching cold with but little sleep illy fitted us for the duty that was to be ours after the Sabbath morning’s sun should rise. With the morning and our hastily prepared breakfast came the question, everything then being so still, “Will there be fighting to-day? This is Sunday.” If there had been a faint hope that the army would rest on its arms that bright Sabbath morning, it was of short life, for soon the order came for an advance; and when it came there were no laggards found. Soldiers never obeyed more promptly, nor with more ready spirit than was that order obeyed. We had learned during the evening and night from various sources that the battle of Saturday had gone hard with some portions of our lines where the enemy had massed his troops most heavily, and our men joined in the desire to retrieve all that had been lost. We moved out in line of battle with our skirmishers advanced, passing over a portion of the field that had been so hotly contested the day before. Soon the shots of the skirmishers warn us that work is before us; nor is it long until the skirmishers have pushed to their furtherest limit, and the line of battle joins them. The command for the charge is given, and, with a shout that might have come from ever-victorious troops, we dash upon their lines. Stubborn is the resistance, but impetuous and determined is the charge, comrade cheering comrade on—on with a fury that cannot be withstood; the air filled with leaden hail; men falling about us on every side; but on and on they push until at last the enemy’s lines are broken, and we follow in hot