o, and cutting them down. Bartlett's brigade,
behind him, finished the business, and the last cannon was fired for the
day against the conquering Federals. General Crawford fulfilled his
full share of duties throughout the day, amply sustained by such
splendid brigade commanders as Baxter, Coulter, and Kellogg, while Gwin
and Boweryman were at hand in the division of General Ayres; not to omit
the fallen Winthrop, who died to save a friend and win a new laurel.
What shall I say for Chamberlain, who, beyond all question, is the first
of our brigade commanders, having been the hero of both Quaker Road and
Gravelly Run, and in this action of Five Forks making the air ring with
the applauding huzzas of his soldiers, who love him? His is one of the
names that will survive the common wreck of shoulder-straps after the
war.

But I am individualizing; the fight, as we closed upon the Rebels, was
singularly free from great losses on our side, though desperate as any
contest ever fought on the continent. One prolonged roar of rifle shook
the afternoon; we carried no artillery, and the Rebel battery, until its
capture, raked us like an irrepressible demon, and at every foot of the
intrenchments a true man fought both in front and behind. The birds of
the forest fled afar; the smoke ascended to heaven; locked in so mad
frenzy, none saw the sequel of the closing day. Now Richmond rocked in
her high towers to watch the impending issue, but soon the day began to
look gray, and a pale moon came tremulously out to watch the meeting
squadrons. Imagine along a line of a full mile, thirty thousand men
struggling for life and prestige; the woods gathering about them--but
yesterday the home of hermit hawks and chipmonks--now ablaze with
bursting shells, and showing in the dusk the curl of flames in the
tangled grass, and, rising up the boles of the pine trees, the scaling,
scorching tongues. Seven hours this terrible spectacle had been enacted,
but the finale of it had almost come.

It was by all accounts in this hour of victory when the modest and brave
General Winthrop of the first brigade, Ayres division, was mortally
wounded. He was riding along the breastworks, and in the act as I am
assured, of saving a friend's life, was shot through to the left lung.
He fell at once, and his men, who loved him, gathered around and took
him tenderly to the rear, where he died before the stretcher on which he
lay could be deposited beside the meeting-