ierceness of desperation, they rush forward, and again are met with the
same deadly reception. Hundreds from the attacking columns, in order to
escape the certain doom, threw down their arms and came in as prisoners.
The tide of battle lulled for a time.

Again artillery did its work alone, until about four o'clock, when the
last desperate charge was made, the grand effort which was to sweep the
Union lines in confusion, or result in the total defeat of the rebel
army.

The heavy masses swept up as before, with the desperation of madness.
They advanced until they were fairly on our lines, and, at some points,
actually pushed them back. Then they were met with enfilading fires,
from which the carnage exceeded all that had been before. Nearly the
whole of Picket's division, finding itself unable to retreat through the
fiery storm, was captured, and the remaining divisions reeled back in
confusion, leaving the ground literally covered with dead.

This decided the fate of the battle. The enemy had staked all upon this
last desperate charge, and had been hurled back in confusion and with
enormous losses.

No pursuit was attempted, but, although the rebels were not at once
driven from their position, they had suffered a terrible defeat, and
they must retreat with all speed to their defenses in Virginia, or
submit to the destruction of their army. Our wounded were collected in
great numbers in and about the field hospitals, which were composed
chiefly of hospital tents, some farm house with its large barns, serving
as a nucleus for each. To these, thousands of our brave comrades were
brought with mangled limbs, torn bodies or bleeding heads, yet,
notwithstanding their terrible wounds, exhibiting their accustomed
heroism. Long trains of ambulances were bringing in crowds of poor
fellows with arms or legs torn to shreds, yet who never uttered a word
of complaint, and who, indeed, appeared cheerful, and some even gay.

In this respect there was the greatest contrast between the wounded of
the Union and the rebel armies. A Union soldier, if so severely wounded
that he could by no possibility assume a cheerful countenance, would
shut his teeth close together and say nothing. While a rebel, if he
could boast of only a flesh wound, would whine and cry like a sick
child. One unaccustomed to such scenes as can only be witnessed about a
field hospital in time of battle, would be filled with astonishment at
the stoical bravery manif