fierce engagement is in progress. Since my last writing the
well-timed volleys soon grew into a continual rattle, and the
cannonading fell heavy and fast. I climbed the bluff as soon as possible
to take a better view. Here I found the summit covered with spectators,
and every tree loaded as with grapes. The lines most of the time were
enveloped in smoke, and we could not discern which were the gainers. The
firing commenced well on to the right in the rear of Chattanooga, but
fast crossed over toward the left. The artillery's roar, reverberating
through the valleys and from mountains, made a deep and impressive sound
as though the whole country was in convulsion. From Lookout the heaviest
guns were fired. The flash could be seen as it vomited its load of
destruction twenty-two seconds before the report arrived, and its echo
was answered by half a dozen smaller guns from Moccasin Point in quick
succession; but it was so much lower I do not think it was of much
effect. Two distinct charges were made (I know not by which party) and
the musketry fire unceasing, and heavy columns of fresh smoke arose, a
pall for those departed to their eternal rest. As I sat upon the brow of
that eminence I could think of the many groans that were now uttered on
the field of strife, where friend and foe lay as an equal in the gore of
their own blood, while many more lay with the ghastliness of death upon
their features, that but a few hours before beamed with life and
animation, and whose hearts melted with love and hopes in the future.
Sad! sad! But it does not stop here. How many hearts will bleed. How
many mothers' hearts will be heavy in anguish when the news will reach
them of the fate of their offspring and object of their care and love.
How little is this realized by the crowd surrounding. Their thoughts are
light and trifling; they think not of death or futurity. Removed from
all destruction, accustomed to look at death as of minor importance,
they feel not the due importance. But such is war. Although a soldier
and inured to meet the foe with determination and calmness, I must say,
Oh what a cruel and wicked thing is war! A deer ran along the mountain
and the attention of the masses was drawn from the conflict and
gleefully passed to the animal. This was not in keeping with the state
of my mind, and I left and returned to my tent, the musketry having
nearly ceased.

Mission Ridge, Tenn., Tuesday, Nov. 24. Marched to our position of