cted by a forest. It does
not so impress me now. They were the exposed flanks of three lines of
infantry, each half a mile in length. In a moment our gunners had grappled
with the nearest pieces, swung them half round, and were pouring streams
of canister into the invaded wood. The infantry rose in masses, springing
into line. Our threatened regiments stood like a wall, their loaded rifles
at "ready," their bayonets hanging quietly in the scabbards. The right
wing of my own regiment was thrown slightly backward to threaten the flank
of the assault. The battered brigade away to the rear pulled itself
together.

Then the storm burst. A great gray cloud seemed to spring out of the
forest into the faces of the waiting battalions. It was received with a
crash that made the very trees turn up their leaves. For one instant the
assailants paused above their dead, then struggled forward, their bayonets
glittering in the eyes that shone behind the smoke. One moment, and those
unmoved men in blue would be impaled. What were they about? Why did they
not fix bayonets? Were they stunned by their own volley? Their inaction
was maddening! Another tremendous crash!--the rear rank had fired!
Humanity, thank Heaven! is not made for this, and the shattered gray mass
drew back a score of paces, opening a feeble fire. Lead had scored its
old-time victory over steel; the heroic had broken its great heart against
the commonplace. There are those who say that it is sometimes otherwise.

All this had taken but a minute of time, and now the second Confederate
line swept down and poured in its fire. The line of blue staggered and
gave way; in those two terrific volleys it seemed to have quite poured out
its spirit. To this deadly work our reserve regiment now came up with a
run. It was surprising to see it spitting fire with never a sound, for
such was the infernal din that the ear could take in no more. This fearful
scene was enacted within fifty paces of our toes, but we were rooted to
the ground as if we had grown there. But now our commanding officer rode
from behind us to the front, waved his hand with the courteous gesture
that says _apres vous_, and with a barely audible cheer we sprang into the
fight. Again the smoking front of gray receded, and again, as the enemy's
third line emerged from its leafy covert, it pushed forward across the
piles of dead and wounded to threaten with protruded steel. Never was seen
so striking a proof of the pa