ours spent with
his mother, sitting by her side in the old kitchen; with Daphne and
Azalia, singing the old songs; with Azalia alone, stealing down the
shaded walk in the calm moonlight, talking of the changeful past, and
looking into the dreamy future, the whippoorwills and plovers piping to
them from the cloverfields, the crickets chirping them a cheerful
welcome, and the river saluting them with its ceaseless serenade!

CHAPTER XVII.

CHICKAMAUGA.

Quick the changes. Paul was once more with the army, amid the mountains
of Tennessee, marching upon Chattanooga with General Rosecrans, tramping
over Lookout Mountain, and along the Chickamauga.

Then came a day of disaster in September. A great battle began on
Saturday morning, lasted through Sunday, and closed on Monday. Paul rode
courageously where duty called him, through the dark woods, along the
winding river, where the bullets sang, where the shells burst, where
hundreds of brave men fell. Terrible the contest. It was like a
thunder-storm among the mountains,--like the growling of the angry surf
upon the shore of the ocean. How trying, after hours of hard fighting,
to see the lines waver and behold the Rebels move victoriously over the
field! with disaster setting in, and to know that all that is worth
living for is trembling in the scale!

There are such moments in battle. General Rosecrans's army was
outnumbered. Paul saw the Rebels driving in the centre and turning the
left flank to cut off all retreat to Chattanooga. The moment for great,
heroic action had come. He felt the blood leap through his veins as it
never had leaped before. The Rebel line was advancing up the hill. The
Union batteries were making ready to leave.

"Stay where you are!" he shouted. "Give them canister! Double shot the
guns! Quick! One minute now is worth a thousand hours."

"Rally! rally! Don't let them have the guns!" he shouted to the flying
troops. They were magic words. Men who had started to run came back.
Those who were about to leave stood in their places, ready to die where
they were. Five minutes passed; they seemed ages. On--nearer--up to the
muzzles of the guns came the Rebels; then, losing heart, fled down the
hill, where hundreds of their comrades lay dying and dead. Their efforts
to break the line had failed. But once more they advanced in stronger
force, rushing up the hill. Fearful the din and strife, the shouts and
yells, the clashing of sabres and bayonet