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VHE WAR LIBRARY.
28
cal ease burst opposite the door, another
ripped through the low garret. 8 re-
maining pillar went almost immediately to
the howlof a fixed shot thht Whitworth
must have made. Soldiersin Federal biue
weretorn to pieces in the road, and died
with the peculiar yell that blends the ex-
torted cry of pan with horror and despair.
ee OK * orty minutes, fifty minutes—
counted watches that ran, oh, so languidly.
-* Shells through the two lower rooms; a
shellinto the chimney, that daringly did
not explode; shells in the yard; the air
thicker, and fuller, nnd more deafening
with the howling und whizzing of these in-
fernal missiles. an
“The chief of staff struck,. Seth Williams,
loved and respected through the army, sep-
arated from instant death by two inches of
space, vertically measured; an aide bored
with a fragment of iron through the arm;
and the time measured on ‘the sluggish
watches was one hour and forty minutes.”
If this was the state of affairs at head-
quarters the reader can faintly imagine
what it was in the cemetery. :
General Howard’s headquarters in the
cemetery were raked in a fearful manner.
Men fell°all around him but himself and
staff escaped. One shell killed and wound-
ded twenty-seven men.
The silent abodes of the dead were shaken
by the tumult of battle. Tombstones and
beautiful monuments were demolished;
great gaping holes were torn in the sacred
earth—now twice sacred because baptised
with the blood of patriotic heroes—by the
explosion of shells; and the surface was
checkered with ghastly furrows,
’ The men were well hidden behind fences,
stone walls and all. manner of protecting
works, but brave General Howard walked
along the lines encouraging his men.
By his orders the guns one by one ceased
firing, in order to delude the enemy into the
belief that they were silenced,
For about two hours this rain of iron beat
upon the cemetery until it seemed only a
marvel that one of the crouching Unionists
escaped immediate death.
“Here they come!”
All eyes Were now turned toward the
woods beyond.
Sure enough a long line of gray was ad-
vancing to the last charge.
Every man nerved himself.’
That last charge at Gettysburg. .
It would take an inspired pen to do it jus-
tice, ~
When the gray lines reached the Emmetts-
burg road the Germans of the Eleventh
corps sprung to their guns and all along the
Union line a blinding, zigzag flame, and the
sharp, quick report, like the summer thun-
der atits fiercest, when it is instantaneous
with the flery chain of light, told that the
army on the heights had made its deadly
mark.
Along our center and left the rebel lines
were more than four miles long, and over
that.whole length there rolled up the bil- |-
lows of battle. Sheets of flame and smoke
and swiftly-flying death beat in their faces.
And yet the thinuin lines, rushing forward
in the charge, pressed on.
So fiercely they stormed the hill that the
Union general, Gibbons, taking wounded
Hancock’s place, was obliged to order his
own men back to make road for the fatal
ee.
ey olley after volley he poured into the
charging line. |
‘Above the cemetery is one vast billow of
flame nnd smoke, as fifty guns hurl the
A volley is poured into the rebel’s backs,
forward with the bayonet.
Other regiments cateh the enthusiasm,
and close upon the daring foe.
The
canister and grape first into the first line of
rebels and then into the third.
Jods! can human nature stand it longer?
Still forward rushed the Southern braves.
Gibbon’s first volley staggers but does not
stop them. They move upon the run—up
to the breastworks of rails, bearing Han-
cock’s line to the top of the ridge, so power-
pir momentum.
Men fire jnto each other’s faces, not five
fect apa se bayonet-thrusts, saber-strokes,
pistol-shots, cool, deliberate movements on
part of some—hot, passionate efforts
with others; hand to hand contests; reck-
lessness of life; tenacity of purpose;
determination; oaths, yells,
and knees, spinning round like tops, throw-
ing out their hands and gulping up blood—
headless, armless, legless. There are ghast y
heaps of dead men. Seconds are centuries;
minutes, ages, but the thin line does not
bi °
nao them in flank!"’ is the command of
General Stannard, of the Vermont boys.
The rebel column has lost its power.
leading line broken and sorely pressed turns
to look forits support, but the remorseless
fire from the cemetery and the ridge have
cut the third supporting line to pieces.
What did they see?
s the smoke slowly raised, the brave
charging lines were gope—not broken, not
retreating, but gone—gone like leaves be-
ore the wind—disappeared like a straw in
the light of a candle.
few officers galloping back in conster-
nation toward Lee’s headquarters at semi-
nary ridge,a few gallant, retreating men
with one flag—tne single saved flag; piles
upon piles of rebel dead, dying and wound-
ed, amoug whom men with stretchers were
stumbling in bewilderment, and thirty-five
hundred prisoners in Feaeral keeping told
this was the end of the grand, brave but
mad charge onthe Union center at ceme-
tery hill. .
While Longstreet was making this disas-
trous assault, Hood's division made a: des-
erate attempt to drive the Federals from
tound-top.
The Pennsylvania troops again drove the
rebels in utter rout down the hill, through
the valley and half a mile beyond, captured
a battery, five thousand stand of arms and
three thousand prisoners,
This was Lee's last struggle, and the glor-
ious battle of Gettysburg had been fought,
and won for the Union.
>
CHAPTER. XXVIII.
IN DIXIE AGAIN.
The day was ours.
Night, mercifully for the rebels, was near
at hand.
As soon as darkness fell, Lee began to
move his wounded toward the Cumberland
valley.
On seminary ridge he threw up works to
hide his actions.
These served to protect his rear during
the retreat which took place on the fourth—
the day that Grant entered Vicksburg—and
as Lee held the mountain passes and the
Union army was compelled to make wide
detours, the Confederates finally reached
the Potomac.
In company with a friend, also a corres-
pondent, I visited Meade’s headquarters im-
mediately after the battle.
His officers were with him.
Meade sat upon a stone listening to the re-
ports of their glorious success,
The officers looked bright and cheer-
ful; Meade appeared still weighted down
with a load,
His hat was off so that the cool even-
ing breeze might reduce the heat of his
oa
row.
Around us the katydids and locusts were
singing cheerily, the evening breeze rustled
the green leaves overhead; the bivouac
fires, glimmering on the ground, revealed
the surrounding objects—the gnarled trees,
torn by cannon-shot, the mossy stones, the
group of officers—Williams, Warren, How-
ard, Pleasanton. 7 .
“Bully, bully—bully all arouud!”’ said
Meade.
Then he gave orders for rations and ammu-
nition to be served up, and the artillery
ready for action, as there was no telling
what that sly old fox, Lee, might be up to
nthe morning.
' It will be seen that Lee was thoroughly
whipped, and pis only desire was to cross
-otomac safely.
to vrany huve censured Meade for not follow-
ing up the tremendous advantage.
fiow, in the name of all that was wonder-
, could he do it?
tithe rebel and Union dead, ttousands upon
thousands lay there awaiting burial, five
times as many wounded wanted immediate
care, for Lee in his flight left most of his
wounded behind him. .
Then there were thousands of prisoner to
be looked after, and besides, the majority of
Meade’s men were tired almost to death.
People say if Lee could move off why not
de? .
Money forget that everything in the line of
humane officers was left to the Union army.
Besides, Lee seemed ready toact on the
oeto had control of the roads and mountain
passes, and in this way reached the Potomac
ere the Federals overtook him,
and then the two Vermont regiments rush }
I went with the army.
It seemed like going back to Lixieland to
enter Maryland agai.,and near the Poto-
mac, and the recent adventures through
which Thad gone came vividly to my mind.
On our way to the Potomac we encoun-
tered heavy rains.
This state of affairs pleased us, as we hoped
the Potomac would rise sufficient to render
the passage of Lee’s army impossible.
We reached Boonsboro on the afternoon
of the sixth, and by the morning of the
seventh the whole army was by the Poto-
mac,
Lee could see us descending the mount-
ains while he was at Haggerstown.
On the twelfth we came up with the rebels
and found them strongly posted on the
heights of Marsh Run. The swollen waters
of the Potomac promised to be an impassa-
ble barrier, and in another day Meade’s re-
inforcements sent from Washington would
reach him.
Then he would have been in good condi-
tion to assail Lee.
After a careful reconnoisance on Monday,
the thirteenth, in the rain, the plan of at-
tack for the following day was made, despite
the rain.
All seemed promising.
General Howard seut in word that he be-
lieved the rebels were escaping; but this
seemed impossible, nay, absurd, when the
natives declared that the Potomac was un-
fordable at that time.
Later on Kilpatrick from up above near
Williamsport sent word that to the best of
his opinion Lee was getting across tie river,
Still Mende did not attack.
Had he known the true state of affairs he
would have hurled his columns against the
enemy without an hour’s delay; but believ-
ing Lee to be inatrap, and that the mor-
row’s sun would seal his fute, he waited.
The morning of the fourteenth dawned.
Lee was across the Potomac, and once
more upon the soil of Dixieland.
A pontoon bridge had been thrown across
at Falling Waters, over which Longstrect’s
and Hill’s troops crossed, while Ewellforded
the river at Williamsport.
Kilpatrick made a dash at Falling Waters,
one of the boldest I ever saw, capturing two
cannon and eight hundred men guarding
the pontoon bridge.
That was the end of it.
Lee escaped, and it was not long before
the two armies were facing each other in
their old quarters upon the banks of the
Rapidan, resting after their bloody cam-
paign.
Yo the end of the war I maintained my
position as a war correspondent, and no dan-
er was too great, no labor too severe when
t would bring me news of a valuable nature
for my paper.
Of all the events of that terrible time,
there are none that impress me so strong]
asmy adventures in Dixieland when with
Stoneman on his great raid, and the bloody
battle of Gettysburg, which I witnessed in
allits fearful detail.
When [ had seen the star spangled banner
floating over Richmond, I knew the last
scene in the bloody war drama had ended,
and it was with much interest that in com-
any with friends I went over tho course
Bete and I had taken inescaping when down
in Dixie before.
It was notso very siugular, therefore, that
one fine morning in May wedrew up in front
of the very house where I had breakfasted
on the occasion of Stoneman’s raid, and also
where I had first met Miss Worth.
She was home, and received me graciously.
I go there regularly every winter now,
but my family accompany me—two chil-
dren rapidly growing into manhood and
womauhood—and my wife; of course the
reader can readily guess that the little lady
who for seventeen years has ruled ny home
with the iron scepter of love is no other than
she who aided me when 2 wanderer, hunted
and harrassed in Dixieland, Lottie Worth.
Thank God for the peace that now rules
our fair country. May Heaven’s curse rest
upon the hand that dares in the future to
bring upon our land desolating, fratricidal
war.
Over the bloody chasm the hand of
brotherhood has been reached, and we are
once more one nation, powerful in_ the
world, and destined to be the shining light
of the ages to come.
Peace to the ashes of those who fellin the
great struggle—blue and gray. May they
rest well. L
(THE END.]