on fiery horses; some general officer passed from end to end of a
forming line and was cheered. The earth shook to marching feet. The
great brazen horns blared, the drums beat, the bugles rang. The gleaming
net folded back on itself, made three pleats, made three great lines of
battle.

The grey leaders on the hill to the south gazed in silence. Then said
Lee, "It is well that war is so terrible. Were it not so, we should grow
too fond of it." Longstreet, the "old war horse," stared at the
tremendous pageant. "This wasn't a little quarrel. It's been brewing for
seventy-five years--ever since the Bill-of-Rights day. Things that take
so long in brewing can't be cooled by a breath. It's getting to be a
huge war." Said Jackson, "Franklin holds their left. He seems to be
advancing. I will return to Hamilton's Crossing, sir."

The guns on the Stafford Heights which had been firing slowly and singly
now opened mouth together. The tornado, overpassing river and plain,
burst on the southern hills. In the midst of the tempest, Burnside
ordered Franklin to advance a single division, its mission the seizing
the _unoccupied_ ridge east of Deep Run. Franklin sent Meade with
forty-five hundred Pennsylvania troops.

Meade's brigades advanced in three lines, skirmishers out, a band
playing a quickstep, the stormy sunlight deepening the colours, making a
gleaming of bayonets. His first line crossed the Richmond road. To the
left was a tiny stream, beyond it a ragged bank topped by brushwood.
Suddenly, from this coppice, opened two of Pelham's guns.

Beneath that flanking fire the first blue line faltered, gave ground.
Meade brought up four batteries and sent for others. All these came
fiercely into action. When they got his range, Pelham moved his two guns
and began again a raking fire. Again the blue gunners found the range
and again he moved with deliberate swiftness, and again he opened with a
hot and raking fire. One gun was disabled; he fought with the other. He
fought until the limber chests were empty and there came an imperious
message from Jeb Stuart, "Get back from destruction, you infernal,
gallant fool, John Pelham!"

The guns across the river and the blue field batteries steadily shelled
for half an hour the heavily timbered slopes beyond the railroad. Except
for the crack and crash of severed boughs the wood gave no sign. At the
end of this period Meade resumed his advance.

On came the blue lines, staunch, determine