ever received was purchased by blood,--the blood of the Son of God. It
is terrible to see, but there are worse things than war. It is worse to
have the rights of men trampled in the dust; worse to have your country
destroyed, to have justice, truth, and honor violated. You had better be
killed, torn to pieces by cannon-shot, than lose your manhood, or yield
that which makes you a man. It is better to die than give up that rich
inheritance bequeathed us by our fathers, and purchased by their blood.

The battle goes on. General Porter's brigade comes to the aid of
Burnside, moving towards Dogan's house. Jackson's Rebel brigade is there
to meet him. Arnold's battery is in play,--guns pouring a constant
stream of shot and shells upon the Rebel line. The Washington Artillery,
from New Orleans, is replying from the hill south of Dogan's. Other
Rebel batteries are cutting Burnside's brigade to pieces. The men are
all but ready to fall back before the terrible storm. Burnside sends to
Porter for help,--he asks for the brave old soldiers, the regulars, who
have been true to the flag of their country, while many of their former
officers have been false. They have been long in the service, and have
had many fierce contests with the Indians on the Western plains. They
are as true as steel. Captain Sykes commands them. He leads the way. You
see them, with steady ranks, in the edge of the woods east of Dogan's
house. They have been facing southwest, and now they turn to the
southeast. They pass through the grove of pines, and enter the open
field. They are cut through and through with solid shot, shells burst
around them, men drop from the ranks, but the battalion does not falter.
It sweeps on close up to the cloud of flame and smoke rolling from the
hill north of the turnpike. Their muskets come to a level. There is a
click, click, click, along the line. A broad sheet of flame, a white,
sulphurous cloud, a deep roll like the angry growl of thunder. There is
sudden staggering in the Rebel ranks. Men whirl round, and drop upon the
ground. The line wavers, and breaks. They run down the hill, across the
hollows, to another knoll. There they rally, and hold their ground a
while. Hampton's legion and Cocke's brigade come to their support.
Fugitives are brought back by the officers, who ride furiously over the
field. There is a lull, and then the strife goes on, a rattling fire of
musketry, and a continual booming of the cannonade.

Gene