REPELLING LEE’S LAST BLOW AT GETTYSBURG.

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and. men were falling fast from the enfilading fireof the hostile line in front, and from the direct fireof those who were crowded in among the trees.The advance of the two regiments became sothinned that for a moment there was a pause.Captain Farrell, of the 1st Minnesota, with hiscompany, came in on my left. As we greeted eachother he received his death-wound, and fell infront of his men, who now began firing. As Ilooked hack I could see our men, intermixed withthose who were driven out of the clump of treesa few moments before, coming rapidly forward,firing, some trying to shoot through the intervalsand past those who were in front.

The gap in the line seemed to widen, for theenemy in front, being once more driven by a ter-rible musketry in their very faces, left to jointhose who had effected an entrance throughWebb’s line.

The men now suffered from the enfilading fireof the enemy who were in the copse. Seeing nolonger an enemy in front, and annoyed by this gall-ing fire from the flank, the 7th Michigan and 59thNew York, followed directly by the 20th Massa-chusetts and the regiments of Harrow’s brigade,left their line, faced to the right, and in groups,without regimental or other organization, joinedin the rush with those already at the edge of theclump of trees, all cheering and yelling, “Hurrah!for the white trefoil!” “Clubs are trumps!”"Forward the white trefoil!” [The badge ofGibbon’s division — the Second, of the SecondCorps — was a white trefoil.— Editors.]

This was one of those periods in action which aremeasurable by seconds. The men near seemed tofire very slowly. Those in rear, though coming upat a run, seemed to drag their feet. Many werefiring through the intervals of those in front, intheir eagerness to injure the enemy. This mannerof firing, although efficacious, sometimes tells on

friend instead of foe. A sergeant at my side re-ceived a ball in the back of his neck by this fire.All the time the crush toward the enemy in thecopse was becoming greater. The men in graywere doing all that was possible to keep off themixed bodies of men who were moving upon themswiftly and without hesitation, keeping up so closeand continuous a fire that at last its effects becameterrible. I could feel the touch of the men to myright and left, as we neared the edge of the copse.The grove was fairly jammed with Pickett’s men,in all positions, lying and kneeling. Back fromthe edge were many standing 1 and firing over thosein front. By the side of several who were firing,lying down or kneeling, were others with theirhands up, in token of surrender. In particularI noticed two men, not a musket-length away,one aiming so that I could look into his musket-barrel ; the other, lying on his back, coolly ram-ming home a cartridge. A little farther on wasone on his knees waving something white in bothhands. Every foot of ground was occupied bymen engaged in mortal combat, who were in everypossible position which can be taken while underarms, or lying wounded or dead.

A Confederate battery, near the Peach Orchard,commenced firing, probably at the sight of Har-row’s men leaving their line and closing to theright upon Pickett’s column. A cannon-shot torea horrible passage through the dense crowd ofmen in blue, who were gathering outside the trees;instantly another shot followed, and fairly cut aroad through the mass. My thoughts were now tobring the men forward; it was blit a few steps tothe front, where they could at once extinguishthat destructive musketry and be out of the lineof the deadly artillery fire. Voices were lost inthe uproar ; so I turned partly toward them, raisedmy sword to attract their attention, and mo-tioned to advance. They surged forward, and just

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CEMETERY RIDGE AFTER 1’ICKETT’S CHARGE. FROM A WAR-TIME SKETCH.