be seen, Pakenham strove to restore them to order, and to urge them on the way they were to go. "For shame! he cried bitterly; "recollect that you are British soldiers. This is the road you ought to take," pointing to the flashing and roaring scene in front.

Riding on, he was soon met by General Gibbs, who said: "I am sorry to have to report to you that the troops will not obey me. They will not follow me." Taking off his hat, General Pakenham spurred his horse to the very front of the wavering column, amid a torrent of rifle balls, cheering on the troops by voice, by gesture, by example. At that moment a ball shattered his right arm, and it fell powerless to his side. The next his horse fell dead upon the field.

His aid, Captain McDougal, dismounted from his black creole pony, and Pakenham, apparently unconscious of his dangling arm, mounted again, and followed the retreating column, still calling upon them to halt and reform. A few gallant spirits ran in toward the lines, threw themselves into the ditch, plunged across it, and fell, scrambling up the sides of the soft and slippery breastwork.

Once out of the reach of those terrible rifles, the column halted, and gained its self-possession. Laying aside their heavy knapsacks, the men prepared for a second and more resolute advance. They were encouraged, too, by seeing the superb Highlanders marching up in solid phalanx to their support, with a front of a hundred men, their bayonets glittering in the sun, which had then begun to pierce the morning mist. Now for an irresistible onset !

At a quicker step, with General Gibbs on its right, General Pakenham on the left, the Highlanders in clear

and imposing view, the column again advanced into the fire. Oh! The slaughter that then ensued! There was one moment, when that thirty-two pounder, loaded to the muzzle with musket balls, poured its charge directly, at point-blank range, right into the head of the column, literally leveling it with the plain; laying low, as was afterward computed, two hundred men. The American line, as one of the British officers remarked, looked like a row of fiery furnaces.

The heroic Pakenham had not far to go to meet his doom. He was three hundred yards from the lines, when the. real nature of his enterprise seemed to flash upon him, and he turned to Sir John Tilden and said, "Order up the reserve." Then, seeing the Highlanders advancing to the support of General Gibbs, he, still waving his hat, but waving it now with his left hand, cried out, "Hurrah! Brave Highlanders!"

At that moment a mass of grapeshot, with a terrible crash, struck the group of which he was the central figure. One of these shots tore open the general's thigh, killed his horse, and brought horse and rider to the ground. Captain McDougal caught the general in his arms, removed him from the fallen horse, and was supporting him from the field, when a second shot struck the wounded man in the groin, depriving him instantly of consciousness. He was borne to the rear, and placed in the shade of an old live oak, which still stands; and there, after gasping a few minutes, yielded up his life without a word, happily ignorant of the sad issue of all his plans and toils.

A more painful fate was that of General Gibbs. A few moments after Pakenham fell, Gibbs received his death wound, and was carried off the field, writhing in agony

and uttering fierce imprecations. He lingered all that day and the succeeding night, dying in torment on the morrow. Nearly at the same moment, General Keane was painfully wounded in the neck and thigh, and was also borne to the rear. Colonel Dale, of the Highlanders, fulfilled his prophecy, and fell at the head of his regiment. The Highlanders, under Major Creagh, wavered not, but advanced steadily, and too slowly, into the very tempest of General Carroll's fire, until they were within one hundred yards of the lines. There, for cause unknown, they halted and stood, a huge, glittering target, until five hundred and forty-four of their number had fallen, then broke and fled, in horror and amazement, to the rear. The column of General Gibbs did not advance after the fall of their leader. Leaving heaps of slain behind them, they, too, forsook the bloody field, rushed in utter confusion out of the fire, and took refuge at the bottom of wet ditches and behind trees and bushes on the borders of the swamp.

The whole was like a dream. How long a time, does the reader think, elapsed between the fire of the first American gun and the total rout of the attacking columns? Twenty-five minutes! Not that the American fire ceased, or even slackened at the expiration of that period. The riflemen on the left, and the troops on the right, continued to discharge their weapons into the smoke that hung over the plain for two hours. But in the space of twenty-five minutes, the discomfiture of the enemy in the open field was complete. The battery alone still made resistance. It required two hours of tremendous cannonade to silence its great guns, and drive its defenders to the rear.

EVACUATION OF RICHMOND

EDWARD A. POLLARD

Edward A. Pollard wrote "The Lost Cause," and other articles relating to the Civil War, all written from the Southern standpoint.

MEN,

́EN, women, and children rushed from the churches, passing from lip to lip news of the impending fall of Richmond. And yet it was difficult to believe it. To look up to the calm, beautiful sky of that spring day, unassailed by one single noise of battle; to watch the streets unvexed by artillery or troops, stretching away into the quiet, hazy atmosphere, and believe that the capital of the Confederacy, so peaceful, so apparently secure, was in a few hours to be the prey of the enemy, and to be wrapped in the infernal horrors of a conflagration! It was late in the afternoon when the signs of evacuation became apparent to the incredulous. Wagons on the streets were being hastily loaded at the departments with boxes, trunks, etc., and driven to the Danville depot. Those who had determined to leave with the fugitive government looked on with amazement; then, convinced of the fact, rushed to follow the government's example. Vehicles suddenly rose to a premium that was astounding; and ten, fifteen, and even a hundred dollars, in gold or Federal currency, was offered for a conveyance.

Suddenly, as if by magic, the streets became filled with men, walking as though for a wager, and behind them excited negroes with trunks, bundles, and luggage of every description. All over the city it was the same wagons, trunks, bandboxes, and their owners, a mass of

hurrying fugitives, filling the streets. The banks were all open, and depositors were as busy as bees removing their specie deposits; and the directors were equally active in getting off their bullion. Hundreds of thousands

of dollars of paper money were destroyed, both state and Confederate.

Night came; and with it came confusion worse confounded. There was no sleep for human eyes in Richmond that night. The City Council had met in the evening, and resolved to destroy all the liquor in the city, to avoid the disorder consequent on the temptation to drink at such a time. About the hour of midnight the work commenced under the direction of committees of citizens in all the wards. Hundreds of barrels of liquor were rolled into the street, and the heads knocked in. The gutters ran with a liquor freshet, and the fumes filled. and impregnated the air. Fine cases of bottled liquors were tossed into the streets from third-story windows, and wrecked into a thousand pieces.

As the work progressed, some straggling soldiers, retreating through the city, managed to get hold of a quantity of the liquor. From that moment, law and order ceased to exist. Many of the stores were pillaged; and the sidewalks were encumbered with broken glass, where the thieves had smashed the windows in their reckless haste to lay hands on the plunder within. The air was filled with wild cries of distress, or the yells of roving pillagers.

But a more terrible element was to appear upon the scene. An order had been issued from General Ewell's headquarters, to fire the four principal tobacco warehouses of the city—namely, the public warehouse, situated at