f July, he saw that the Northerners held a position of
extraordinary power. Yet his men were flushed with victory after
victory. They had swept their foe before them in the first encounter as
chaff before a storm. They were equal to anything short of a miracle.

He ordered Longstreet to hurl his corps against Cemetery Ridge and drive
the enemy from his key position before the entrenchments could be
completed.

Longstreet was slow. Jackson would have struck with the rapidity of
lightning. On this swift action Lee had counted. The blow should have
been delivered before eight o'clock. It was two o'clock in the afternoon
before Longstreet made the attack and Meade's position had been made
stronger each hour.

From two o'clock until dark the long lines of gray rolled and dashed
against the heights and broke in red pools of blood on their rocky
slopes.

Three hundred pieces of artillery thundered their message in an Oratorio
of Death. The earth shook. Hills and rocks danced and reeled before the
excited vision of the onrushing men. For two hours the guns roared and
thundered without pause. The shriek of shell, the crash of falling
trees, the showers of flying rocks ripped from cliffs by solid shot, the
shouts of charging hosts, the splash of bursting shrapnel, the neighing
of torn and mangled horses, transformed the green hills of Pennsylvania
into a smoke-wreathed, flaming hell. The living lay down that night to
sleep with their heads pillowed on the dead.

On this second day Lee's men had gained a slight advantage. They had
taken Round Top and held it for two hours. They had at least proven that
it could be done. They had driven in the lines on the Federal left. The
Southern Commander still believed his men could do the impossible.
Longstreet begged his Chief that night to withdraw and choose another
field. Lee ordered the third day's fight. On his gray horse he watched
Pickett lead his immortal charge and fall back down the hill.

He rode quietly to the front, rallying the broken lines. He made no
speech. He uttered no bombast.

He calmly lifted his hand and cried:

"Never mind--boys!"

To his officers he said:

"It's all my fault. We'll talk it over afterward. Let every good man
rally now."

His army had never known a panic. The men quietly fell into line and
cheered their Commander.

To an English officer on the field Lee quietly said:

"This has been a sad day for us, Colonel--a sad day; but we can't ex