prisoner with the remnant of his division, and Hurlburt's camp
fell into the hands of the Rebels.

Of this movement General Bragg says: "The enemy were driven headlong
from every position, and thrown in confused masses upon the river-bank,
behind his heavy artillery and under cover of his gunboats at the
Landing. He had left nearly all his light artillery in our hands, and
some three thousand or more prisoners, who were cut off from their
retreat by the closing in of our troops on the left under Major-General
Polk, with a portion of his reserve corps, and Brigadier-General
Ruggles, with Anderson's and Pond's brigades of his division."[13]

[Footnote 13: Bragg's Report.]

The woods rang with the exultant shouts of the Rebels, as Prentiss and
his men were marched towards Corinth. They had possession of the camps
of all the divisions except Wallace's. Beauregard had redeemed his
promise. They could sleep in the enemy's camps.

SUNDAY EVENING.

Look at the situation of General Grant's army. It is crowded back almost
to the Landing. It is not more than a mile from the river to the extreme
right, where Sherman and McClernand are trying to rally their
disorganized divisions. All is confusion. Half of the artillery is lost.
Many of the guns remaining are disabled. Some that are good are deserted
by the artillerymen. There is a stream of fugitives to the Landing, who
are thinking only how to escape. There are thousands on the river-bank,
crowding upon the transports. They have woeful stories. Instead of being
in their places, and standing their ground like men, they have deserted
their brave comrades, and left them to be overwhelmed by the superior
force of the enemy.

As you look at the position of the army and the condition of the troops
at this hour, just before sunset, there is not much to hope for. But
there are some men who have not lost heart. "We shall hold them yet,"
says General Grant.

An officer with gold-lace bands upon his coat-sleeve, and a gold band on
his cap, walks up-hill from the Landing. It is an officer of the gunboat
Tyler, commanded by Captain Gwin, who thinks he can be of some service.
Shot and shells from the Rebel batteries have been falling in the river,
and he would like to toss some into the woods.

"Tell Captain Gwin to use his own discretion and judgment," is the
reply.

The officer hastens back to the Tyler. The Lexington is by her side. The
men spring to the guns, and the shells go