unlimbering the guns. Colonel Morgan at once ordered the
charge, and the squadron dashed at full gallop into the woods. The
skirmishers ran back, but as we forced our way in a crowded mass (all
line lost) through the thickets, we came suddenly upon the infantry
regiment to which these skirmishers belonged. Fortunately for us, this
regiment, in scrambling through the brush, had lost the compactness of
its formation. We came close upon them before the Federals fired--they
delivered one stunning volley, the blaze almost reaching our faces, and
the roar rang in our ears like thunder. The next moment we rode right
through them--some of the men trying to cut them down with the saber,
and making ridiculous failures, others doing real execution with gun and
pistol. We lost only three men killed, but they were noble, gallant
soldiers--Lieutenant James West and privates Samuel Buckner and James
Ghiselin. We lost several others wounded. Twelve of the enemy were
killed and a few made prisoners. The affair was over directly, and the
Federals retreated. The Texians, as we prepared to charge, asked what we
were going to do. "To go in," was the answer, "Then we will go in, too,"
they shouted, and galloping down the rear of our line, until they
reached the right of it, they turned short to the left and charged into
the woods. They struck the rest of the brigade to which the regiment we
had met belonged, and drove it back for some distance. They were never
checked until they reached a high fence, which they could not pass.
Their loss was then severe, and many of their riderless horses came
galloping over the ground where our wounded lay.

Our infantry had pressed on beyond this point, and there was no
Confederate force near except this cavalry. It was impossible to
conjecture how strong the enemy was just here, but Colonel Morgan,
fearing that he might come in force sufficient to endanger this flank,
disposed his command on foot, to make all possible resistance in such an
event. Our skirmishers, thrown forward, could not find him, and the
receding din of the battle seemed to promise perfect safety against all
such dangers. About half-past one or two o'clock, occurred the great
calamity which rendered unavailing all of the sacrifices and successes
of the day. General Johnson was killed. He had exposed himself with
almost culpable recklessness. From the commencement of the fight he had
been in the van--cheering the struggling men--adding fr