the same; and Wallace's division, up in an instant, now that a master move had swept the board, pushed forward. Before them were broad fallow fields, then a woody little ravine, then corn-fields, then woods.

The left brigade was sent forward. It crossed the fallow fields, under ordinary fire, then gained the ravine, and was rushing across the corn-fields, when the same Louisiana steel rifled guns opened on them. Dashing forward they reached a little ground-swell, behind which they dropped like dead men, while skirmishers were sent forward to silence the troublesome battery. The skirmishers crawled forward till they gained a little knoll, not more than seventy-five yards from the battery. Of course the battery opened on them. They replied, if not so noisily, more to the purpose. In a few minutes the battery was driven off, with artillerists killed, horses shot down, and badly crippled every way. But the affair cost us a brave man— Lieut.-Col. Garber-who could not control his enthusiasm at the conduct of the skirmishers, and in his excitement incautiously exposed himself. All this while rebel regiments were pouring up to attack the audacious brigade that was supporting the skirmishers, and fresh regiments from Wallace's division came up in time to checkmate the game.

But the battery was silenced. "Forward," was the division order. Rushing across the corn-fields under heavy fire, they now met the rebels face to face in the woods. The contest was quick, decisive. Close, sharp, continuous musketry for a few minutes, and the rebels fell back.

Here, unfortunately Sherman's right gave way. Wallace's flank was exposed. He instantly formed Col. Wood's (Seventy-sixth Ohio) in a new line of battle, in right angles with the real one, and with orders to protect the flank. The Eleventh Indiana was likewise here engaged in a sharp engagement with the enemy attempting to flank, and for a time the contest waxed fierce. But Sherman soon filled the place of his broken regiments; again Wallace's division poured forward, and again the enemy gave way.

By two o'clock the division was into the woods again, and for threequarters of a mile it advanced under a continuous storm of shot. Then another contest or two with batteries-always met with skirmishers and sharp-shooting-then, by four o'clock, two hours later than on the right, a general rebel retreat-then pursuit, recall, and encampment on the old grounds of Sherman's division, in the very tents from which those regiments were driven that hapless Sunday morning.

The camps were regained. The rebels were repulsed. Their attack had failed. We stood where we began. Rebel cavalry were within half a mile of us. The retreating columns were within striking distance. But we had regained our camps. And so ended the battle of Pittsburg Landing.-Cincinnati Gazette.

BATTLE OF GETTYSBURG.

BY J. WHITELAW REID.

scare.

FIELD OF BATTLE, NEAR GETTYSBURG, July, 1863.

A thousand rumors are afloat. Washington has had on an old fashioned Hooker is superseded! and why? Go ask the Commander-in-Chief. Amid this turmoil and excitement I left for the contemplated field of battle. Where headquarters were no one knew-somewhere in Maryland or Pennsylvania-in the direction of the invading and confident legions of the enemy. Baltimore reached, and there a panic also; trains go and come uncertainly in every direction. I went towards Westminster and over the roads where eighteen hours ago the rebels had swarmed along. Away on the left loomed up amid the driving mists, South Mountain, historic evermore, and fitting monument for its own and the contiguous field of Antietam. Moving along up a winding turnpike, upturned and bent about by a billowy country that, in its cultivation, gave evidence of proximity to Pennsylvania farmers; here the army had but just moved up the valley of the Monocacy heading towards Taney town, where now was headquarters; and fortunate was I in finding it. A horseman galloped up and hastily dismounted, bringing tidings of a battle near Gettysburg, close by the southern line of Pennsylvania, and that Maj.-Gen. Reynolds was already killed. In company with other members of the press we mount and spur for Gettysburg-we shall precede headquarters but a little-a long weary struggle, with an already jaded horse past the solid columns and their straggling infantry, past artillery and army equipage that blockades, crowds and surges along in hot haste the `narrow way to the scene of conflict-on climbing eagerly the hills that are crossed by this highway, we strain our eyes to catch the first glimpses of the nearing field of battle. A little further on, a turn to the left, another slope ascended, and now in front on a gradual declivity stands an orchard of gnarled old leafy trees, beyond the valley a range of hills but little lower than that on which we stand; on this slope, half hidden among the cluster of trees, is a large cupola-crowned brick building-the Theological Seminary; between this and us a half dozen spires and roofs of houses, distinguishable amid the luxuriant foliage, streets marked by the lines of trees-and this is Gettysburg! No sound of bells or children's merry-making greets our ears-only now and then a blue, circling curl of smoke rises and fades from view. We are standing on Cemetery Hill—the key to the whole position. Passing a small frame dwelling and looking in, saw the wreck of yesterday's battle; the floor was covered with the wounded

and dying. In an upper room lay Gen. Wadsworth, wounded in the front of yesterday's fight.

THE BATTLE OF WEDNESDAY.

I have conversed with four of the most prominent generals employed in that action and any number of subordinates. In the early part of this day Maj. Gen. Reynolds, commanding the First Corps, moved in solid column and entered the streets of Gettysburg. On the other edge of the town the retiring pickets of the enemy were encountered by our advancing skirmishers. A sharp contest ensued; our advance lines were driven in; this fired the column, and Gen. Reynolds with little or no reconnoisance marched impetuously forward.

It was fifteen minutes past ten o'clock. The fire of the rebel skirmishers rattled along the front, but, shaking it off as they had the dew from their night's bivouac, the men pushed hotly on.

Meantime Gen. Reynolds, on receiving his first notice an hour ago from Buford's cavalry, that the rebels were in the vicinity of Gettysburg, had promptly sent word back to Gen. Howard, and asked him, as a prudential measure, to bring up the Eleventh corps as rapidly as possible. The Eleventh had been coming up on the Emmetsburg road. Finding it crowded with the train of the First, they had started off on a by-way, leading into the Taneytown road, some distance ahead; and were still on this by-way eleven miles from Gettysburg, when Reynold's messenger reached 'them. The fine fellows, with stinging memories of not wholly merited disgrace at Chancellorsville, started briskly forward, and a little after one their advance brigade was filing through the town to the music of the fire above. Gen. Reynold's corps consists of three divisions-Wadsworth's, Doubleday's, and Robinson's. Wadsworth's (composed of Meredith's and Cutler's brigadesboth mainly Western troops) had the advance, with Cutler on the right and Meredith on the left. Arriving at the Theological Seminary, above the town, the near presence of the enemy became manifest, and they placed a battery in position to feel him out, and gradually moved forward.

An engagement, of more or less magnitude, was evidently imminent. Gen. Reynolds rode forward to select a position for a line of battle. Unfortunate-sadly unfortunate again—-alike for him, with all a gallant soldier's possibilities ahead of him, and for the country, that so sorely needed his well-tried services. He fell, almost instantly, pierced by a ball from a sharpshooter's rifle, and was borne, dying or dead, to the rear. Gen. Doubleday was next in command.

The enemy were seen ready. There was no time to wait for orders from the new corps commander; instantly, right and left, Cutler and Meredith wheeled into line of battle on the double-quick., Well-tried troops,

those; no fear of their flinching; veterans of a score of battles-in the war some of them from the very start; with the first at Philippi, Laurel Hill, Carrick's Ford, Cheat Mountain and all the Western Virginia campaign; trusted of Shields at Winchester, and of Lander at Romney and Bloomery Gap; through the campaign of the Shenandoah Valley, and with the army of the Potomac in every march to the red slaughter sowing that still had brought no harvest of victory. Meredith's old Iron Brigade was the Nineteenth Indiana, Twenty-fourth Michigan, Sixth and Seventh Wisconsinveterans all, and well mated with the brave New Yorkers whom Wadsworth led.

Cutler, having the advance, opened the attack; Meredith was at it a few minutes later. Short, sharp fighting, the enemy handsomely repulsed, three hundred rebel prisoners taken, General Archer himself reported at their head-such was the auspicious opening. No wonder the First determined to hold its ground.

Yet they were ill-prepared for the contest that was coming. Their guns had sounded the tocsin for the Eleventh, but so they had too for Ewell, already marching down from York to rejoin Lee. They were fighting two divisions of A. P. Hill's now-numerically stronger than their dwindled three. Their batteries were not up in sufficient numbers; on Meredith's left-a point that especially needed protection, there were none at all. A battery with Buford's cavalry stood near. Wadsworth cut red tape and in an instant ordered it up. The captain, preferring red tape to red fields, refused to obey. Wadsworth ordered him under arrest, could find no officer for the battery, and finally fought it under a sergeant. Sergeant and captain there should henceforth exchange places.

The enemy repulse.!, the First advanced their lines and took the position lately held by the rebels. Very heavy skirmishing, almost developing at times into a general musketry engagement, followed. Our men began to discover that they were opposing a larger force. Their own line, long and thin, bent and wavered occasionally, but bore bravely up. To the left, where the fire seemed the hottest, there were no supports at all, and Wadsworth's division, which had been in the longest, was suffering severely.

About one o'clock Maj.-Gen. Howard, riding in advance of his hastening corps, arrived on the field and assumed command. Carl Schurz was thus left in command of the Eleventh, while Doubleday remained temporarily Reynold's successor in the First.

The advance of the Eleventh soon came up and was thrown into position to the right of the First. They had little fighting immediately-but their time was coming. Meantime the First, that had already lost its general commanding and had held its ground against superior numbers, without supports, from ten till nearly two, took fresh courage as another corps came

up, and all felt certain of winning the day. But alas! the old, old game was playing. The enemy was concentrating faster than we.

About half-past two that afternoon, standing where we now stand, on Cemetery Hill, one might have seen a long, gray line creeping down the pike and near the railroad on the north-east side of the town. Little pomp in their march, but much haste; few wagons, but the ammunition trains all up; and the battle-flags that float over their brigades are not our flags. It is the road from York-these are Stonewall Jackson's men-led now by Stonewall Jackson's most trusted and loved Lieutenant, Gen. Ewell. That gray serpent, bending in and out through the distant hills, decides the day.

They are in manifest communication with Hill's corps, now engaged, fully advised of their early losses, and of the exact situation. They bend up from the York road, debouch in the woods near the crest of the hill, and by three o'clock, with the old yell and the old familiar tactics, their battle-line comes charging down.

Small resistance is made on our right. The Eleventh does not flee wildly from its old antagonists, as at their last meeting, when Stonewall Jackson scattered them as if they had been pigmies, foolishly venturing into the war of the Titans. It even makes stout resistance for a little while; but the advantage of position, as of numbers, is all with the rebels, and the line is forced to retire. It is done deliberately and without confusion, till they reach the town. Here the evil genius of the Eleventh falls upon it again. To save the troops from the terrible enfilading fire through the streets, the officers wheel them by detachments into cross-streets, and attempt to march them thus around one square after another, diagonally, through the town. The Germans are confused by the manoeuvre; perhaps the old panic at the battle-cry of Jackson's flying corps comes over them; at any rate they break in wild confusion, some pouring through the town a rout, and are with difficulty formed again on the heights to the southward. They lose over one thousand two hundred prisoners in twenty minutes. One of their generals, Schempelfennig, an old officer in the Russian service in the Crimean war, is cut off, but he shrewdly takes to cover, conceals himse.” somewhere in the town, and finally escapes.

But while our right is thus suddenly wiped out, how fares it with the left-Robinson and Doubleday, and sturdy Wadsworth, with the Western troops? Sadly enough.

By half-past three, as they counted the time, the whole of A. P. Hill's corps, acting in concert now with Ewell, precipitated itself upon their line. These men are as old and tried soldiers as there are in the war, and they describe the fire that followed as the most terrific they have ever known. In a single brigade, (Cutler's,) in twenty minutes, every staff-officer had his horse shot under him, some of them two and three. In thirty minutes not