es-de-camp, and staff
officers generally. They dash about from place to place like spirits of
unrest. Brigade after brigade and division after division is hurried
into line, and pressed forward into action. Battalions of artillery open
fire from the crests of many hills, and the battle is begun.

[Illustration: EXTENDING THE REAR.]

Ammunition trains climb impassable places, cross ditches without
bridges, and manage somehow to place themselves in reach of the troops.
Ambulances, which an hour before went gayly forward, now slowly and
solemnly return loaded. Shells and musket balls which must have lost
their way, go flitting about here and there, wounding and killing men
who deem themselves far away from danger. The negro cooks turn pale as
these unexpected visitors enter the camps at the rear, and the rear is
"extended" at once.

But our place now is at the front, on the field. We are to watch the
details of a small part of the great expanse. As we approach, a
ludicrous scene presents itself. A strong-armed artilleryman is
energetically thrashing a dejected looking individual with a hickory
bush, and urging him to the front. He has managed to keep out of many a
fight, but now he _must_ go in. The captain has detailed a man to _whip_
him in, and the man is doing it. With every blow the poor fellow yells
and begs to be spared, but his determined guardian will not cease. They
press on, the one screaming and the other lashing, till they reach the
battery in position and firing on the retiring enemy. A battery of the
enemy is replying, and shells are bursting overhead, or ploughing huge
furrows in the ground. Musket balls are "rapping" on the rims of the
wheels and sinking with a deep "thud" into the bodies of the poor
horses. Smoke obscures the scene, but the cannoniers in faint outline
can be seen cheerfully serving the guns.

As the opposing battery ceases firing, and having limbered up, scampers
away, and the last of the enemy's infantry slowly sinks into the woods
out of sight and out of reach, a wild cheer breaks from the cannoniers,
who toss their caps in the air and shout, shake hands and shout again,
while the curtain of smoke is raised by the breeze and borne away.

The cavalry is gone. With jingle and clatter they have passed through
the lines and down the hill, and are already demanding surrender from
many a belated man. There will be no rest for that retreating column.
Stuart, with a twinkle in his eye, his