y irregularly, some soul going out at
each whiff of the breeze in the fir-tops; and the teams and surgeons,
and straggling soldiers, and galloping orderlies passed all the night
beneath the old and gibbous moon and the hushed stars, and by the
trickle of Gravelly Run stealing off, afeared. But the wounded had no
thought that night; the victory absorbed all hearts; we had no losses to
notice where so much was won.

A mile past the church, going away from head-quarters all the time, lies
Five Forks, the object and name of the battle. A large open field of
perhaps thirty acres, interposes between the church and the commencement
of the Rebel works. Their left is only some rails and logs to mask
marksmen, but the work proper is a very long stretch of all obstructions
of a man's height in relief.

The White Oak road runs directly in front of these intrenchments, and
was, at the time I passed, the general highway for infantry returning
from the field and cavalry-men concentrating at General Sheridan's
bivouac. Riding a mile I came upon the Five Forks proper, and just to
the left, at the foot of some pines, the victor and his assistants were
congregated. Sheridan sat by some fagots, examining a topographical map
of the country he had so well traversed; possibly with a view to design
further aggressive movements in the morning. He is opposite me now as I
pen these paragraphs by the imperfect blaze of his bivouac fire. He is
good humored and talkative, like all men conscious of having achieved a
great work, and has been good enough to sketch for me the plan of the
day's operations, from which I have compiled much of the statement
above. Close by lies Custer, trying to sleep, his long yellow hair
covering his face; and General Griffin, now commanding the Fifth corps,
goes here and there issuing orders, while aides and orderlies rode in
and out, bearing further fresh messages of deeds consummated or
proposed. We shall have a hot night no doubt, for away off to the right,
continue volleys of musketry and discharges of artillery, intermixed
with what seem to be thunderbolts of our men-of-war at anchor in the
Appomatox and James,--if such can be heard at this great
distance,--which tell us that the lines are in motion.

CHAPTER XXX.

RICHMOND DESOLATE.

The scenes of entering the doomed stronghold, when Grant had burst its
gates, ought to be made vivid as the spectacle of death. With my good
and talented associate, Mr. J