rtillery--was heard
at intervals all the latter part of the afternoon; and as the troops
neared the Gap, they were told that the Rebels had been driven from it
across the river, and that it was now in our possession. Night was
rapidly setting in as the division formed line of battle on the borders
of the village. A halt but for a few moments. Their position was shortly
changed to the mountain slope below the village. Down the valley sudden
flashes of light and puffs of smoke that gracefully volumed upwards,
followed by the sullen roar of artillery, revealed a contest between the
advancing and retreating forces. That fire-lit scene must be a life
picture to the fortunate beholders. Directly in front and on the left,
thousands of camp fires burning in the rear of stacks made from
line-of-battle, blazed in parallel rows, regular as the gas-lights of
the avenues of a great city, and illumining by strange contrasts of
light and shade the animated forms that encircled them. Far down to the
right, the vertical flashes from the cannon vents vivid as lightning
itself, instantly followed by horizontal lurid flames, belched forth
from their dread mouths, lighting for the instant wood and field, formed
the grandest of pyrotechnic displays. Rare spectacle--in one magnificent
panorama, gleaming through the dark mantle of night, were the steady
lights of peaceful camps, and the fitful flashing of the hostile cannon.

"Fall in, fall in!" cried the officers, at the bugle call, and in a few
moments the Brigade was in motion. Some in the ranks, with difficulty,
at the same time managing their muskets and pails of coffee that had not
had time to cool; others munching, as they marched, their half-fried
crackers, and cooling with hasty breath smoking pieces of meat, while
friendly comrades did double duty in carrying their pieces. The soldier
never calculates upon time; the present is his own when off duty, and he
is not slow to use it; the next moment may see him started upon a long
march, or detailed for fatigue duty, and with a philosophy apt in his
position, he lives while he can.

The road through Snickersville, and up the romantic gorge or gap between
the mountains, was a good pike, and in the best marching condition. At
the crest the Brigade undoubled its files, and entered in double ranks a
narrow, tortuous, rocky road, ascending the mountain to the left,
leading through woods and over fields so covered with fragments of rock,
that