s prey, turning the exposed column back upon its rear. Colston,
commanding Jackson's old Division, led the attack, followed by A.P.
Hill. Rhodes then fell like an avalanche upon the unexpectant and
now thoroughly disorganized divisions of the retreating enemy. Volley
after volley was poured into the seething mass of advancing and
receding columns. Not much use could be made of artillery at close
range, so that arm of the service was mainly occupied in shelling
their trains and the woods in rear. Until late in the night did the
battle rage in all its fury. Darkness only added to its intensity,
and the fire was kept up until a shot through mistake lay the great
Chieftain, Stonewall Jackson, low. General A.P. Hill now took command
of the corps, and every preparation was made for the desperate
onslaught of to-morrow. By some strange intuition peculiar to the
soldier, and his ability to gather news, the word that Jackson had
fallen burst through the camp like an explosion, and cast a gloom of
sorrow over all.

As our brother South Carolinians, of McGowan's Brigade, were on the
opposite side of us, and in the heat of the fray, while we remained
idle, I take the liberty of quoting from "Caldwell's History" of that
brigade a description of the terrible scenes being enacted on that
memorable night in the Wilderness in which Jackson fell:

"Now it is night. The moon a day or two past full, rose in cloudless
sky and lighted our way. We were fronted, and then advanced on the
right of the road into a thick growth of pines. Soon a firing of
small arms sprang up before us, and directly afterwards the enemy's
artillery opened furiously, bearing upon us. The scene was terrible.
Volley after volley of musketry was poured by the Confederate line
in front of us upon the enemy. The enemy replied with equal rapidity;
cheer, wild and fierce, rang over the whole woods; officers shouted at
the top of their voices, to make themselves heard; cannon roared and
shells burst continuously. We knew nothing, could see nothing, hedged
in by the matted mass of trees. Night engagements are always dreadful,
but this was the worst I ever knew. To see your danger is bad enough,
but to hear shells whizzing and bursting over you, to hear shrapnell
and iron fragments slapping the trees and cracking off limbs, and not
know from whence death comes to you, is trying beyond all things. And
here it looked so incongruous--below raged, thunder, shout, shriek,
slaugh