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Meanwhile the fighting continues with fierceness, and charge after charge is made on both sides. All at once both armies cease firing, as with common consent, for night puts an end to the terrific conflict, both lie down as it were, side by side, waiting to renew the battle on the morrow.

The 30th of August opened with a fearful yelling in our front. They have been concentrating during the night on our center, to try if possible to cut our lines in two. They think they had the better of us yesterday, and to-day will finish the job. But they will have to pay dearly for their victory if they whip us, for they are fighting here on the offensive, and have to do all the charging. They seem to have all of Lee's army in our front, as they are driving our men back, and we can tell by the way the firing is that it is getting further to our rear. Our brave men hold their own for a long while, but cannot stand it much longer, as every available man is brought to the front. But the enemy outnumber us, and we have to give way to force. About 4 P. M. the enemy come down on our center, and our men have to retreat. Everything now is in confusion. Our army is cut into, and we on the right must get back or be cut off. The enemy bring their artillery to bear on us. We cross some fields and have to do some queer dodging and running. At last we get behind our cavalry, that is drawn up in line to give the rebels a turn. Col. Broadhead leads his gallant First Michigan Cavalry on the charge, and is killed at the head of his men. Nothing now can stop the onward march of the victorious enemy, and we cross Bull Run creek and halt on the Centerville heights, after getting the finest whipping of the war, not excepting the first Bull Run.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE ENEMY TRY A FLANK MOVEMENT-BATTLE OF CHANTILLY-A FEARFUL STORM-IT ENDS THE CONFLICT-A MISERABLE NIGHT-DEATH OF GEN. KEARNEY-MC'CLELLAN IN COMMAND AGAIN-BACK TO WASHINGTON ONCE MORE.

On the first of September the enemy try a flank movement, to cut off our retreat if they can. Falling back from Centerville five or six miles brings us to Chantilly, where the enemy is in force. Part of our troops are already engaged, to the left of the Washington turnpike, and the firing discloses that our men are steadily receding. If the enemy take the road, our army will be in a bad position, but they will find the old Red Diamond Division, under their gallant one-armed General, Phil. Kearney, ready to contest with them every foot of ground, for we are all drawn up in line waiting for our troops to give way in our front. Ha! we see heavy clouds away to the west. They approach closer and closer, moving over the rebel army and soon covering our own. The lightning begins to flash and the thunder roll, loud enough to hush in silence the loud roar of artillery and musketry. The rain poured down in torrents, saturating our clothing to the very skin, wetting and making useless our ammunition, and putting an end to the terrific conflict, saving our division a hard encounter. The storm rages fiercely, and night approaches. We establish our picket line, and the storm ends. All is still as the grave once more. Nothing to be heard but the dry, hoarse cough from those soldiers who have caught a severe cold from the effects of the late storm, which may be the cause

of some poor fellow's death, offered up for the good cause. No matter whether it be by bullet or shell, or on the battle-field or in hospital that the soldier offers up his life, it is all the same; his name will be inserted on the roll of honor.

The stars shine brightly over our heads, and the air is so chilly that we feel almost chilled through. We lie down and try to get some sleep or rest. The pickets still keep their silent watch. Not a gun is fired on the lines, and as it were, everything is wrapped in slumber, when, all at once the stillness is disturbed by some sharp firing by the pickets in front. In an instant we are on our feet and in line. Leaning on our muskets we can see the flash and hear the sharp report of small arms, and expect a night attack from the enemy, and are ready for them. We wait for awhile, the firing ceases, and all is quiet again in the Potomac army. Oh, if we only knew what a loss we had sustained in those few minutes firing, we would not rest much that night; but we lie down in blissful ignorance of our irreparable loss, and go to sleep. Early in the morning we are stirring, and the rumor is circulated that our brave Kearney is no more, and find that the rumor is but too true. The sorrow of his gallant division is unbounded, and many a tear streams down the cheeks of his soldiers. He had gone out, as was his wont, to see that all was right on the lines, going farther than he should, and did not learn his mistake until he was inside the rebel picket lines. They saw that he wore the uniform of a U. S. officer, and told him to surrender; but he did not feel inclined to do that, so they fired and killed him instantly. They approached, and when they saw whom they had killed, they treated him with every consideration, and when the rebel chief saw him he wept like a child, for he thought of

by-gone times, when they were class-mates at West Point. Oh, what a difference in the two men; one died for his country, that it may be saved from traitors and disunion; the other is fighting to destroy the country that gave him. all that he ever possessed. Fare thee well, our gallant old General; thy memory will remain as long as the country shall endure in the hearts of all the good and the true in the land; while the memory of your late classmate will forever be a shame and a disgrace in the land that nurtured him. For the name of Robert E. Lee will go down to generations yet unborn, as the great rebel chief, that wanted to destroy the greatest nation on the globe, while the name of Philip Kearney will be exalted to the skies, as one who died for his country, that it might be the home of all who are oppressed in every clime.

It is rumored now that the enemy have left in front, and we soon find that he means to take a trip north, which produces the wildest confusion imaginable in Washington, for it is evident that some one else besides the gentleman in the saddle, will have to take command of the army, to check the onward march of the victorious army under Lee. They know in Washington who can drive them back again, but will they put him in command after taking him away from his almost idolized army. The authorities see that it would be utter suicide to have any other man take command, and accordingly Gen. McClellan is reinstated in command of his army, where he is received with the wildest joy imaginable. Our division is now without a commander, and suffering terribly from the late battles. It is necessary to send us back to Washington, to recruit our thin ranks. We commence our backward march, and the rest of the army under McClellan give chase to Lee. We arrive safe in front of Washington, and go into camp.

CHAPTER XX.

BATTLES OF SOUTH MOUNTAIN AND ANTIETAM-SUFFERINGS OF THE ARMY-LEE BACK IN VIRGINIA-MC'CLELLAN RELIEVED AGAIN, AND BURNSIDE TAKES COMMAND AT THE FRONT AGAIN-MC'CLELLAN'S FAREWELL ADDRESS TO HIS ARMY.

Gen. Lee's victorious army, flushed with their late victories, try and move north, in hopes to be able to make the Washington authorities do something towards helping their cause, but they will soon find out that McClellan is in command again, and their stay will be very short north of the Potomac. Lee has crossed the Potomac, and McClellan, his only chastiser, so far, is treadiug on his heels. The rebels have to face about at South Mountain, and fight their old adversaries again. They have to get back off the mountain, and pull up at Antietam Creek, where one of the bloodiest battles of the war is fought, and they have to get back to their own sacred soil again in Virginia. A great many in the north now censure Gen. McClellan for not following up Lee's army. They do not think of the hardships the army has had to endure for the last year, how they needed clothing to cover their nakedness, and shoes to cover their bleeding feet. They do nɔt praise our noble chief for hurling back the arrogant enemy from their very doors; but the men under him, who know him best, appreciate his worth and virtues. Oh, do not censure him, but thank God there is a man in your country who can drive the rebels back every time they dare to overrun it.

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