ons can take it this time." There was a promise to comply with
his request. On the following morning when the irresistible assault of
the rebel army came, the Eleventh Ohio Battery was in position
commanding the whole rebel line and the Fourth Minnesota Infantry in
line flat upon the ground close in its rear. Lieutenant Neil was seated
on his thoroughbred from twenty to forty feet in front of the battery,
between the line of fire of the guns of the middle section. He requested
the Colonel of the infantry to keep his eye upon him and whenever he
beckoned with his saber, to have the infantry rise up and deliver their
fire.

"Now the assaulting lines of the rebel armies come on like a wave of the
sea, rolling along over breastworks and batteries. He orders the men to
open fire and, still in his advanced position, waves his hat constantly
to the advancing lines of rebels, and shouts, 'Come on! Come on! if you
think you can play Iuka over again.' A strange coincidence was that the
same rebel battalions came against this battery that had captured it on
the 19th of September. But they could not come on here. Three times the
Lieutenant signaled the infantry to rise and fire, and each time they
rose to hear him say, 'No, no, they have broke again.'

"For a half mile in front of this battery, after the battle, were large
areas covered with the dead and dying, which told with what terrible
effect it had been served during the assault.

"The sight of the Lieutenant, after twenty years, brought up these
occurrences--this whole scene, and made it as fresh as if it had
transpired yesterday, and made me resolve to commit it to writing
before I died, feeling that none of us had done him justice in our
reports of these battles.

"The scene at Corinth, if it could be placed on canvas, would be
thrilling even to strangers. An elegant thoroughbred Kentucky horse
fully caparisoned, on which the Lieutenant is sitting erectly, with his
hat in his hand, is standing out in front of the battery between the
lines of fire of the two center guns, seemingly conscious that if he
moved to the right or left he would be torn to atoms, and trusting
himself wholly to his rider, the Lieutenant is waving his hat in the
air, and bidding defiance to the foe; advancing in masses and lines upon
his positions, the artillerymen with superhuman power and skill, amid
the smoke that rolled incessantly from the muzzles of every gun, loading
and firing, is a pictur