The afternoon wore away before the troops were ready. Longstreet's men were panting up the mountain on the western side, Hood's division in advance. They were thrown upon the hillside south of the old tavern in the gap. It was past four o'clock when the order to advance was given. Wilcox's division led upon the extreme left.
It is a movement which will be decisive, for victory or defeat. The artillery—all the batteries which can be brought into position—send their shells up the mountain. Steadily onward moves the long line across the fields at the foot, up the pasture lands of the slope into the woods.
There is a rattling of musketry,—then heavy rolls, peal on peal, wave on wave, and a steady, constant roar; giving not an inch, but advancing slowly, or holding their ground, the veterans of the Peninsula continue their fire. The mountain is white with the rising battle-cloud. The line of fire goes up the mountain. The Rebels are falling back, fighting bravely, but yielding. There are shouts, yells, outcries, mingling with the thunder of the artillery, echoing and reverberating along the valleys.
Right and left and center are pushing on. Thousands on the plains below behold it, and wish that they were there to aid their brothers in arms. The day wanes, the shadows begin to deepen, revealing the flashes from cannon and musket. There is no giving back of Burnside's men, neither of Hooker's, but nearer to the crest, nearer the clouds, moves the starry banner.
"Please open upon that house with your battery," was the order of Colonel Meredith, of the Nineteenth Indiana, commanding a brigade in King's division, to Lieutenant Stewart of the Fourth United States Artillery. The house was filled with sharpshooters. Lieutenant Stewart sights his guns. The second shell crashes through the side as if it were paper, tears through the rooms. The Rebels swarm out from doors and windows in hasty flight. The men from Indiana give a lusty cheer, and move nearer the enemy.
In vain the efforts of Hill and Longstreet and Hood to stop the fiery tide, rising higher, rolling nearer, overflowing the mountain, threatening to sweep them into the western valley. The lines surge on. It is like the sweep of a great tidal wave. There is a rush, a short, desperate, decisive struggle. The Rebel line gives way. The men from Indiana, Ohio, Wisconsin, New York, Pennsylvania, Maine, and Massachusetts, pour into the gap, shouting their victorious hurrahs.
General Hill has lost the battle. He has despised those men. He tried to injure their fair fame before the world in time of peace; he intimated that Northern men were arrant cowards; but after this battle at South Mountain he can issue an Algebra with a new statement of the wooden nutmeg and Buena Vista problems.
SURRENDER OF HARPER'S FERRY.
Lee was successful in what he had undertaken at Harper's Ferry. While Burnside was winning this victory, Colonel Miles was yielding that important post. He abandoned the strong position on Maryland Heights, tumbled the cannon down the mountain, when he might have kept McLaw and Anderson from gaining possession of the place. Jackson kept up a furious bombardment. Miles hung out the white flag, and was killed immediately after by a shell.