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moment of intense anxiety. No one knows how large the force opposing them. The Rebel sharpshooters are watching the movement from their hiding-places. They have a fair view and can pick their men. The men in the boats know it, yet they move steadily onward, steering straight across the stream, without a thought of turning back, though their comrades are falling, some headlong into the river, others dropping into the boats. The oarsmen pull with rapid strokes. When one falls another takes his place. Two thirds the distance over, the boats ground in shoal water. The soldiers wait for no word of command, but with a common impulse, with an ardor which stops not to count the cost, they leap into the water, wade to the shore, and charge up the bank. Some fall to rise no more, but their surviving comrades rush up the slippery slope. A loud hurrah rings out from the soldiers who watch them from the Falmouth shore. Up, up they go, facing death, firing not, intent only to get at the foe and win victory with the bayonet! They smash the windows, batter down doors, driving or capturing the foe.

Loud and hearty the cheers of the regiments upon the other shore. The men of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Massachusetts would give anything to be there. All the while the cannon are roaring, hurling solid shot and shell into the doomed city.

"They leaped in the rocking shallops.
Ten offered where one could go;
And the breeze was alive with laughter
Till the boatmen began to row.

"Then the shore, where the Rebels harbored,
Was fringed with a gush of flame,
And buzzing, like bees, o'er the water
The swarms of their bullets came.

"Not a whisper! Each man was conscious
He stood in the sight of death;
So he bowed to the awful presence,
And treasured his living breath.

"And many a brave, stout fellow,
Who sprang in the boats with mirth,
Ere they made that fatal crossing,
Was a load of lifeless earth.

When the bridge-builders saw the soldiers charge up the hill, they too caught the enthusiasm of the moment, and finished their work. The other regiments of the brigade, before the last planks were laid, rushed down the bank, ran out upon the bridge, dashed up the bank, joined their comrades, and drove the Rebels from the streets nearest the river.

History furnishes but few records of more daring exploits than this action of the Seventh Michigan. Their work was thorough and complete. In fifteen minutes they cleared the houses in front of them, and took more prisoners than their own party numbered!

It was now half past four in the afternoon, one of the shortest days of winter. The sun was going down. The Rebels had delayed the crossing through the entire day. General Burnside. was severely censured by some Northern as well as Southern papers for bombarding the town; he had no desire to do injury to the citizens in person or property, but the stubborn resistance of the Rebels made it necessary thus to use his artillery. When General Sumner arrived at Falmouth, three weeks before, he demanded the surrender of the place; but the citizens and the women begged the officer in command not to give it up. "We would rather have the town burned than given up to the Yankees," said they.

* Boker's "Crossing at Fredericksburg."
† Richmond Examiner, December 15, 1862.

But now the Yankees were there, marching through the streets. The houses were battered, torn, and rent. Some were in flames, and a battle was raging through the town.

As soon as the bridge was completed, the other brigades of General Howard's division moved across the river. The Rebel batteries, which till now had kept silence, opened furiously with solid shot and shell, but the troops moved steadily over, and took shelter along the river bank. The Rebels were falling back from street to street, and the men from Michigan and Massachusetts were pressing on.

I stood upon the bank of the river and watched the scene in the deepening twilight. Far up the streets there were bright flashes from the muskets of the Rebels, who fired from cellars, chamber windows, and from sheltered places. Nearer were dark masses of men in blue, who gave quick volleys as they moved steadily on, demolishing doors, crushing in windows, and searching every hiding-place. Cannon were flaming on all the hills, and the whole country was aglow with the camp fires of the two great armies. The Stafford hills were alive with men, regiments, brigades, and divisions moving in column from their encampments to cross the river. The sky was without a cloud. The town was lighted by lurid flames. The air was full of hissings, the sharp cutting sounds of the leaden rain. The great twenty-pounder guns on the heights of Falmouth were roaring the while. There were shouts, hurrahs, yells, and groans from the streets. So the fight went on till the Rebels were driven wholly from the town to their intrenchments beyond.

The Seventeenth Mississippi was the most actively engaged of the Rebel regiments. Its commander, Lieutenant-Colonel Fizer, in his report, says:

"The Yankees made nine desperate attempts to finish their bridges, but were repulsed at every attempt. They used their artillery incessantly, with a heavy detachment of sharpshooters, for twelve hours, we holding our position firmly the whole time, until about half past four, P. M., when they increased their artillery and infantry, and their batteries becoming so numerous and concentrated, we could not use our rifles. Being deprived of all protection, we were compelled to fall back to Caroline Street, and from there were ordered from town. The casualties

of the regiment during the engagement were one hundred and sixteen wounded, killed, and missing." *

When the soldiers of the Seventh Michigan leaped into the boats, a drummer-boy joined them, - Robert Henry Hendershot. He was only twelve years old, but his dark eyes flashed brightly under the excitement of the moment. His drum was upon his neck.

"Get out, you can't go," said an officer.

"I want to go," said Robert.

"No, you will get shot. Out with you."

Robert jumped into the water, but instead of going ashore, remained to push off the boat; and then, instead of letting go his hold, clung to the gunwale, and was taken across.

As the boat grounded upon the other shore, a piece of shell tore through his drum. He threw it away, seized the gun of a fallen soldier, rushed up the hill, and came upon a Rebel soldier, slightly wounded. "Surrender!" said Robert, pointing his gun at him. The Rebel gave up his gun, and Robert marched him to the rear. When he returned to the other side of the river, General Burnside saw him, and said, —

"Boy, I glory in your spunk! If you keep on in this way a few more years, you will be in my place."

His regiment, after the battle, was sent West, and Robert was in the battles of Lebanon, Murfreesboro, Chattanooga, and McMinniville, where he fought gallantly.

As the Rebels had used the houses for a defence, the soldiers, now that they were in possession of the town, appropriated to their own use whatever suited their fancy. Their great desire was to obtain tobacco, and the tobacco shops were first broken open. A large quantity had been thrown into the river by the Rebel authorities to prevent its falling into the hands of the Yankees; but the soldiers soon fished it up, dried it by their bivouac fires, and through the long night, while keeping watch, enjoyed their pipes at the expense of the enemy. Soldiers who did not care for tobacco helped themselves to flour, meat, potatoes, sugar, and molasses. They had a merry night cooking

Lieutenant-Colonel Fizer's Report.