any service, but by dint of lifting and pulling, and the most desperate efforts, they were got across and placed in position. As the rebels saw these brass pieces glittering in the sunlight, they knew they must be captured or the ground could not be held, and moved forward in solid ranks upon them. But suddenly a strong force, as if rising out of the earth, emerged from the swamp to their support. The guns were now advanced, and the whole force moved forward over the open field. In fifteen minutes the contest was over, and our men cheering once more in the enemy's rifle pits.

It was now about five o'clock in the afternoon, and the battle seemed over, when the enemy suddenly burst with tremendous force on the rifle pits held by Kearney. Overwhelmed by the unexpected onset, our troops gave way, retiring over the open field, till they reached the edge of a piece of woods where they made a determined stand, and resisted every attempt of the rebels to advance farther. The latter moved forward into the desolating fire with high courage, but each time they approached the edge of the woods they recoiled before the fearful volleys that met them, and at length gave over the effort to carry them, and abandoned the field, strewn thick with their dead. Birney's brigade, on the left of Kearney's division, suffered severely in this last contest.

When night had put an end to the conflict, we had driven the enemy as far as he drove us a few weeks before at the battle of Fair Oaks, and held the ground we had won. Hooker's pickets, that night, were posted within less than five miles of the rebel Capital.

All night long, working parties were busy throwing up intrenchments so as to be able to hold the position we had gained. But the rebels, first in one direction then in another, kept advancing, driving in our pickets and compelling the soldiers to fling down the spade and pick, and seize their muskets

PUBLIC EXPECTATION.

499

About one o'clock, heavy and sustained firing broke suddenly through the gloom, bringing officers to their saddles, and for a time there was swift hurrying to and fro in the starlight, but the tumult soon subsided, and our forces maintained their ground. But for the terrific battle that a few weeks before had raged on this very spot, and the tremendous struggle which was believed to be close at hand, this would have been considered a severe engagement. Our loss was two hundred in killed and wounded. An importance however, far greater than its immediate results, was attached to the movement. The ground which was gained-it being immediately in advance of our earth-works, was conclusive evidence in the minds of the people that the crisis had finally come, and every quiver of the telegraph wires was watched with the most intense solicitude. The dispatches of McClellan strengthened this belief. To one written amid the roar of guns, in which he says, "our men are behaving splendidly-the enemy are fighting well also," he makes this significant addition, "If we succeed in what we have undertaken it will be an important advantage gained." When therefore the second dispatch came, saying, "The affair is over and we have gained our point fully," there was no doubt that he meant to be understood as having gained the foothold he wanted, before he launched his army on the rebel Capital. So fully possessed was the public with this belief, that preparations were made in many parts of the country to celebrate the triumphant entry of our flag into Richmond. Leading presses in New York city had fire works arranged around their buildings, ready to be let off the moment the electric wires should flash the news from Washington. The near approach of the Fourth of July gave increased strength to this belief. The celebration of the anniversary of our Declara tion of Independence was to mark a new triumph-the downfall of the rebel Capital and the death blow to the rebellion.

500

PERPLEXITY OF THE GOVERNMENT.

The sudden arrest of all telegraphic news from the seat of war, and the profound silence that all at once fell on the army, instead of depressing public feeling, seemed rather to elevate it." The government," said the enthusiastic, "is preparing a surprise for the people for the Fourth of July." But the few, who from closely watching the course of events, had obtained a correct idea of the general plan of the campaign, were filled with alarm. They knew that if McDowell did not form a junction with McClellan, that plan was broken up and this grand outlay of labor and life was in vain.

The two governments presented a painful contrast in this terrible crisis. Letters were flowing into Washington, begging that reinforcements be sent on with all haste to McClellan. Louder than all, went up the cry from the army for help, while from the interior of Virginia came rumors that a fearful storm was about to burst on the National Capital. Should it abandon the great plan that had been so long maturing, and give up all the hopes of taking the rebel Capital, or push on to the end, and leave Washington to take its chances, were the painful questions our government kept balancing. Confronted with sudden and unexpected dangers, it did not know what to do. The magnificent scheme, every part of which, a short time ago, seemed moving harmoniously to the grand desired result, had been thrown into utter chaos. Its councils were divided as to the best course to be adopted in this dire emergency. While hesitation and delay were marking its action, at Richmond every thing was moving with prodigious energy and order to one great result. Many had supposed that the comparatively feeble resistance which the rebels had made to McClellan's last attack, proved them to be weak and discouraged; but the truth was, they could not afford to waste men or time to prevent an advance they knew never would be made. For days, the rail road leading to the Shenandoah valley, had been groaning under the weight of

MCDOWELL NOT TO COME.

501

soldiers and munitions of war, moving towards Richmond, while from North and South Carolina, and even from Georgia, the regiments had been hurrying forward with desperate speed. McClellan was aware of this sudden concentration of the enemy's force in his front, and the anxious expression of his countenance grew daily more intense as he turned his ear northward to catch the tread of McDowell's columns. The rumor had reached the camps that they were within a day's march of them, and should it prove true all was well. Burnside too had been ordered up from Newbern, and soon perhaps the bayonets of his strong battalions would be seen moving across the Chickahominy..

While events were thus crowding to a fearful crisis, and even one day's delay might precipitate a common ruin, McClellan was informed by the Secretary of War that McDowell • would not be sent to him at all. The thunderbolt had at last fallen, and an abyss, whose depths he shuddered to contemplate, opened at his feet. "What now is to be done?" was the anxious question, as he called his gallant corps commanders around him. To move en masse with his inferior force. upon the strong fortifications in front would be courting destruction. Should he attempt to hold his position until troops could arrive at Washington, relieving those there which he needed in order to take Richmond? But June was drawing to a close, and the hot month of July in these pestilential swamps would diminish his army almost as fast as it could be reinforced. Beside, would the enemy wait if he did? The line of defense had been stretched northward already too far to allow it sufficient strength at the center, and at any time. in that direction, the enemy could sweep round him if he had sufficient force behind the fortifications to protect Richmond in front, and the rapidity with which he was concentrating troops showed that he would very speedily be able to do this. There was but one course left open-to retreat. But

502

A CRITICAL SITUATION

would the enemy let him retreat? With the first backward movement he would launch his overwhelming force upon him. It was painful enough for McClellan to see the grand edifice he had reared with so much care, and which had been cemented with some of the best blood of the land, tumble into irrecoverable fragments at his feet. But this was not the worst of it; that gallant army, which had followed him with such unwavering fidelity, and trusted him so implicitly, must be waked from its dream of victory to find that it had been beguiled into a trap, a snare, from which there might be no escape, or if one, to be traversed only over the bodies of thousands of their brave comrades. And how would the country look upon this? Whom would it hold to a strict and terrible account? The position in which he found himself was one to try the stoutest heart, and crush the very life out of a man of keen sensibilities. His fondest hopes lay crushed at his feet, and now must come the struggle for life, and if he survived, over the roar of battle and the groans of the dying, would come the bitter outcry of an angry and disappointed nation. But to retreat was his only chance of escaping utter annihilation. If he could get off all his trains and army material before the enemy discovered his intentions, so that he would have his gallant army free of incumbrance, he might hold his enemy at bay as he retired to a safe position. Quietly, and without display he commenced to do this, and though the enemy were very quickly informed by their spies of what was going on, they could not at first decide what it meant. At last however their suspicions were aroused, and they resolved to fall in overwhelming force on his flank, and, cutting him ctf from his supplies, make an utter end of the entire army.