ler warrior
ever lived! Always bright, full of fun in camp, and on the march, he was
at the gun in action, the best "No. 1" I ever saw. One of the few men I
ever knew who really seemed to enjoy a fight. His bearing, when he was
wounded, was simply _heroic_. No wounded knight ever passed off his last
battlefield in nobler sort. All honor to his memory!

John Ayres, the fellow to whom Cary Eggleston handed his rammer, was at
his home in Buckingham County, Virginia, on furlough, when we started on
the campaign. Off in the remote country, he didn't hear of our movements
for several days. The moment he heard it, off he started, walked
thirteen miles to the James River Canal boat; got to Richmond, came up
to Louisa County on the Central Railroad, got off and walked
twenty-three miles across country, guided by the sound of the battle,
and reached his gun just in time to take Eggleston's place as "No. 1"
and finish the fight.

When the enemy had thus broken in such utter rout, and with such fearful
losses, we did hope they would let us alone, for this day at least. We
were wet, and hungry, and nearly worn out working the gun, off and on
all day, and it was late in the afternoon. For an hour or more things
were quiet; the woods in front seemed deserted and still; the Texans
were lying stretched out on the ground, all along the line; many of them
asleep. We cannoneers were wearily sitting about the guns, wishing to
gracious we had something to eat, and could go to bed, even if the _bed
were_ only one blanket, on the wet ground.

Our rifled guns had just been firing at a Federal battery which we could
see, up on the hill in front of us. Watching the effect of the shots, we
saw one of the caissons blown up, and a gun disabled, and soon
confusion. Somebody remarked, "how easy it would be to take that
battery, if any of our infantry were in reach." Just then, we heard loud
cheering, which sounded to us, to be up in the woods, on our left, where
Hill's men were. Someone instantly cried out, "There it goes now! Hill's
men are going to take those guns." We eagerly gathered at the works,
some distance to the left of our guns, where we could see better, and
stood gazing up at the edge of the field, expecting every moment to see
Hill's troops burst out of the woods, and rush upon these guns. Our
attention was absorbed, off there, when, all of a sudden, one of our
fellows who happened to glance the other way, yelled, "Good heavens!
look