battle. When the
amputation was taking place, he looked grimly up at General Kearney, who
was present, and remarked, "We'll buy our gloves together, after this."

At Chantilly, a few days after the second battle of Bull Run, wherein he
forced the gallant Stonewall Jackson back, he penetrated into the
Confederate lines and met his death.

The Confederates had won. The dusk had fallen and General Kearney was
reconnoitering after placing his division.

"He rode right into our men," feelingly relates a Confederate soldier,
"then stopping suddenly, called out,

"'What troops are these?'"

[Illustration: "WHAT TROOPS ARE THESE?"]

Some one replied, "Hays' Mississippi Brigade."

He turned quickly in an attempt to escape. A shower of bullets fell
about him. He leaned forward as if to protect himself, but a ball struck
him in the spine. He reeled and fell.

Under the white flag of truce, General Lee sent his remains to General
Hooker, who had the body transported to New York, where it was interred
with becoming honors.

"Oh, evil the black shroud of night of Chantilly,
That hid him from sight of his brave men and tried."

KEARNEY AT SEVEN PINES

SO that soldierly legend is still on its journey,--
That story of Kearney who knew not how to yield!
'Twas the day when with Jameson, fierce Berry, and Birney,
Against twenty thousand he rallied the field.
Where the red volleys poured, where the clamor rose highest,
Where the dead lay in clumps through the dwarf oak and pine,
Where the aim from the thicket was surest and nighest,--
No charge like Phil Kearney's along the whole line.

When the battle went ill, and the bravest were solemn
Near the dark Seven Pines, where we still held our ground
He rode down the length of the withering column,
And his heart at our war cry leapt up with a bound.
He snuffed like his charger, the wind of the powder,--
His sword waved us on and we answered the sign;
Loud our cheer as we rushed, but his laugh rang the louder,
"There's the devil's own fun, boys, along the whole line!"

How he strode his brown steed! How we saw his blade brighten,
In the one hand still left,--and the reins in his teeth!
He laughed like a boy when the holidays heighten,
But a soldier's glance shot from his visor beneath.
Up came the reserves to the mellay infernal,
Asking where to go in,--through the clearin