the cavalry and our other guns. That line, so coveted,
so important to them, that they had been marching, and fighting to
gain, was not a mile off, in sight, in reach, _secure now_, as they
thought. That thought was not only a _delusion_, it was a _snare_. They
were never to reach it! and the "snare," I will explain very soon.

As we thus suddenly came upon that sight, we stopped to look at the
spectacle. It looked very blue, and I dare say, we looked a shade "blue"
ourselves; for we could not see a Confederate anywhere, and we supposed
we had no support whatever, though we were better off in this particular
than we knew. And the idea of pitching into that host, with six
unsupported guns, was not calming to the mind. Coming out from cover of
the pines, back of a slight ridge that ran through the field, with a few
sassafras bushes on it, we were not seen, and the Federals were in
blissful ignorance of what was about to follow. We pulled diagonally
across the field to a point, just back of the low ridge, and quietly
went into position and unlimbered the guns. We pushed them, by hand, up
so that the muzzles just looked clear over the ridge, which thus acted
as a low work in our front, and proved a great protection. The field had
been freshly plowed for corn, the wheels sunk into it, and the minute we
tried to move the guns, by hand, with our small force, we saw what it
was going to be, in action, with the sun blazing down.

When all was ready,--guns pointed, limber, and caisson chests
opened,--General Stuart said, waving his hand toward that swarming field
of Federals, "Boys, I want you to knock that all to pieces for me. So go
to work." And this was the last time we ever saw the superb hero. He
rode, right from our guns, to his death at "Yellow Tavern" a day or two
after. We have always remembered with the deepest interest, that the
very last thing that glorious soldier, "J. E. B." Stuart, did in the
Army of Northern Virginia was to put our guns into position, and give us
orders; which _we obeyed_, to his entire satisfaction, I know, if he had
seen it.

The minute General Stuart had given his order, and turned to ride away,
Captain McCarthy, sitting on his horse, where he sat during the whole
fight, looking as cool as the sun would let him, and far more
unconcerned than if he had been going to dinner, sung out, "Section ----
commence firing." It was ours, the Fourth gun's turn to open the ball.
We were all waiting aroun