He was the owner of a saw-mill. Timber was wanted for the construction of a bridge. His mill was out of repair, but there were men in the Union army accustomed to run saw-mills, and an hour was sufficient to put the machinery in order for the manufacture of lumber. It was amusing to see the soldiers lay down their guns, take up the crowbar, roll the logs into the mill, adjust the saw, hoist the gate, and sit upon the log while the saw was cutting its way. The owner of the mill looked on in disgust, as his lumber was thus freely handled.
In the first advance from Jericho bridge, the force was repulsed. The Rebels of Ewell's command came on with confidence, to drive the retreating troops into the river; but Warren had taken the precaution to place his smooth-bore guns on a hillock, south of the stream, while his rifled pieces were on the north side, in position, to give a cross-fire with the smooth-bores. When the Rebels came within reach of this concentrated fire they were almost instantly checked. It was no time to rush on, or to stand still and deliberate; they fled, uncovering the railroad, to which the Sixth advanced, tearing up the track and burning the depot. In the centre, the Ninth Corps had a severe fight, resulting in considerable loss.
It is two miles from Jericho bridge to Carmel Church, which stands in a beautiful grove of oaks. While the troops were resting beneath the trees, waiting for the order to move, a chaplain entered the church and proposed to hold religious service.
The soldiers manifested their pleasure, kneeled reverently during the prayer, and listened with tearful eyes to the exhortations which followed.
It was inspiring to hear them sing,
"Come, sing to me of heaven,
When I'm about to die;
Sing songs of holy ecstasy,
To waft my soul on high."
At dark on the evening of the 25th of May, I rode along the lines of the Second Corps to take a look at the Rebels. There was a steady fire of artillery. One battery of the Rebels had full sweep of the plain, and the shells were flying merrily. A thunder-storm was rising. The lightning was vivid and incessant. My head-quarters for the night were to be with a surgeon attached to the First Division of the Ninth Corps, several miles distant. The dense black clouds rising in the west made the night intensely dark, except when the lightning-flashes gleamed along the sky. It was a scene of sublime grandeur: heaven's artillery in play,—the heavy peals of thunder, mingling with the roar of the battle-field! After an hour's ride through pine thickets, over old corn-fields, half-blinded by the lightning, I reached the quarters of my friend the surgeon, whose tent was just then being packed into the wagon for a night march to a new position. The storm was close at hand, and together we fled for shelter to a neighboring cabin. I had barely time to fasten my horse and enter the door before the storm was upon us.
Bayonet charge.