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FINE FORKS AND THE PURSUIT OF LEE.

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nets with their old antagonists. But the move-ment was slow, the required formation seemed todrag, and Sheridan, chafing with impatience andconsumed with anxiety, became as restive as aracer when he nears the score and is struggling tomake the start. He made every possible appealfor promptness, he dismounted from his horse,paced up and down, struck the clinched fist of onehand into the palm of the other, and fretted like acaged tiger. He said at one time: “ This battlemust be fought and won before the sun goes down.All the conditions may be changed in the morn-ing ; we have but a few hours of daylight left us.My cavalry are rapidly exhausting their ammuni-tion, and if the attack is delayed much longerthey may have none left.” And then anotherbatch of staff-officers were sent out to gallopthrough the mud and hurry up the columns.

At 4 o’clock the formation was completed, theorder for the assault was given, and the strugglefor Pickett’s intrenched line began. The Con-federate infantry brigades were posted from rightto left as follows : Terry, Corse, Steuart, Ransom,and Wallace. General Fitzhugh Lee , command-ing the cavalry, had placed W. H. F. Lee ’s twobrigades on the right of the line, Muuford’s divi-sion on the left, and Rosser’s in rear of Hatcher’sRun to guard the trains. I rode to the front incompany with Sheridan and Warren, with thehead of Ayres’s division, which was on the left.When this division became engaged, Warren tookup a more central position with reference to hiscorps. Ayres threw out a skirmish-line and ad-vanced across an open field, which sloped downgradually toward the dense woods, just north ofthe White Oak road. He soon met with a firefrom the edge of this woods, a number of men fell,and the skirmish-line halfed and seemed to waver.Sheridan now began to exhibit those traits thatalways made him such a tower of strength in thepresence of an enemy. He put spurs to his horseand dashed along in front of the line of battle fromleft to right, shouting words of encouragementand having something cheery to say to every regi-ment. “Come on, men,” he cried. “Go at’emwith a will. Move on at a clean jump or you’llnot catch one of them. They’re all getting readyto run now, and if you don’t get on to them in fiveminutes, they’ll every one get away from yon!Now go for them.” Just then a man on the skir-misli-line was struck in the neck; the blood spurtedas if the jugular vein had been cut. “I’m killed! ”he cried, and dropped on the ground. “You’renot hurt a bit,” cried Sheridan; “pick up yourgun, man, and move right on to the front.” SuchWas the electric effect of his words that the poorfellow snatched up his musket and rushed forwarda dozen paces before he fell never to rise again.The line of battle of weather-beaten veterans wasnow moving right along down the slope toward thewoods with a steady swing that boded no good forPickett’s command, earth-works or no earth-works.Sheridan was mounted on his favorite black horse“Rienzi” that had carried him from Winchesterto Cedar Creek, and which Buchanan Read madefamous for all time by his poem of “Sheridan’s

Ride.” The roads were muddy, the fields swampy,the undergrowth dense, and “Rienzi,” as heplunged and curveted, dashed the foam from hismouth and the mud from his heels. Had the Win-chester pike been in a similar condition, he wouldnot have made his famous twenty miles withoutbreaking his own neck and Sheridan’s too.

Mackenzie had been ordered up the Crump roadwith directions to turn east on the White Oakroad and whip everything he met on that route.He met only a small cavalry command, and havingwhipped it according to orders, now came gallop-ing back to join in the general scrimmage. Hereported to Sheridan in person, and was orderedto strike out toward Hatcher’s Run, then movewest and get possession of the Ford road in theenemy’s rear.

Soon Ayres’s men met with a heavy fire on theirleft flank and had to change direction by facingmore toward the west. As the troops entered thewoods and moved forward over the boggy groundand struggled through the dense undergrowth,they were staggered by a heavy fire from the angleand fell back in some confusion. Sheridan nowrushed into the midst of the broken lines, andcried out: “Where is my battle-flag?” As thesergeant who carried it rode up, Sheridan seizedthe crimson and white standard, waved it abovehis head, cheered on the men, and made heroicefforts to close up the ranks. Bullets were hum-ming like a swarm of bees. One pierced the bat-tle-flag, another killed the sergeant who had carriedit, another wounded Captain A. J. MeGonnigle inthe side, others struck two or three of the staff-officers’ horses. All this time Sheridan was dash-ing from one point of the line to another, wavinghis flag, shaking his fist, encouraging, threatening,praying, swearing, the very incarnation of battle!It would be a sorry soldier who could help follow-ing such a leader. Ayres and his officers wereequally exposing themselves at all points in ral-lying the men, and soon the line was steadied, forsuch material could suffer but a momentary check.Ayres, with drawn saber, rushed forward oncemore with his veterans, who now behaved as ifthey had fallen back to get a “ good-ready,” andwith fixed bayonets and a rousing cheer dashedover the earth-works, sweeping everything beforethem, and killing or capturing every man in theirimmediate front whose legs had not saved him.

Sheridan spurred “Rienzi” up to the angle, andwith a bound the horse carried his rider over theearth-works, and landed in the midst of a line ofprisoners who had thrown down their arms andwerecrouching close under their breastworks. Some ofthem called out, “ Wliar do you want us-all to goto ? ” Then Sheridan’s rage turned to humor, andhe had a running talk with the “ Johnnies ” as theyfiled past. “ Go right overthere,” he said to them,pointing to the rear. “ Get right along, now. Dropyour guns; you’ll never need them any more.You’ll all be safe over there. Are there any moreof you? We want every one of you fellows.”Nearly 1500 were captured at the angle.

An orderly here came up to Sheridan and said :“Colonel Forsyth of your staff is killed, sir.” “ It’s

VOL. TV. 46