breath as they see the gallant columns reluctantly, though surely moving back to the abyss open to receive them. Wallace, on the extreme right, has nobly held his position, and four times hurled the enemy back, until at last he too is forced to retreat, and falls mortally wounded from his horse. Every camp but his is occupied by the enemy, and towards this, our entire left wing is now slowly receding. Even the reserve lines are all carried, and the army that in the morning stretched in a semi-circle over six miles in extent, is now compressed within a circuit of a little more than half a mile. One more push, and the day is won for the rebels, and the valley of the Mississippi, up to the Ohio, is again theirs. "Oh that Buell or night would come!" exclaimed many an officer, as he surveyed the gloomy prospect.

As the sun stooped to the western horizon he looked on a battle lost to the Union cause, and a whole army balancing on the verge of destruction. Just then a body of cavalry dashed up to the river on the farther side, the advance of Buell's army. Help was at hand, and if the victorious columns of the enemy could be held in check but one hour more, the army might yet be saved. The former were also aware that Buell's columns were approaching the Tennessee, and knew that what was done must be done quickly, and summoning his energies for a final effort, bore down on our crowded, confused columns. A last charge, and the declaration that Beauregard had made in the morning, that his steed should drink from the Tennessee at night, would be fulfilled.

At this critical moment, two movements were made which saved the day. Colonel Webster, chief of the staff, and an accomplished artillerist, seeing that the storm was about to burst on our center and left, hastily collected in the short lull that preceded its advent, all the guns from the broken batteries around him, some of large caliber, and arranged them in a semi-circle around the landing-twenty-one in all.

350

THE GUN BOATS TAKE PART.

Gathering such artillerists as he could from the various batteries, as well as every man who knew how to handle a gun, among whom was the gallant surgeon, Dr. Corbyn, of Missouri, he prepared to meet this last onset.

He was hardly ready, ere the wood in front was lit up by the flash of the enemy's musketry, and the heavy columns came pouring forward. Suddenly, from that semi-circle of twentyone guns, leaped forth a line of fire, and shot and shell went crashing into the living masses that darkened all the road and fields. The astonished enemy staggered back, appalled at the horrible tempest. But they were making their last crowning effort, and their leaders rallied them for a second onset. And at this juncture, a new enemy appeared on the field. The two gun boats, Tyler and Lexington, lying in the stream, had remained all day, excited, idle spectators of the fight. Moving up and down the bank, they had sought in vain for an opportunity to bring their heavy guns to bear. But now the rebels had pushed our left wing so close to the river that they could be reached. The commander of the Tyler sent a messenger ashore, to inquire if he might shell the enemy. The permission was gladly given, and the two boats opened with their twenty-four pound Parrott guns and rifled cannon. The ravine mentioned before, that here run inland from the river, gave a free passage to their shells that went screaming through the gloom, and bursting among the terrified ranks. Trees were shivered in their course, and the branches hurled through the air. The guns were worked with astonishing rapidity, and the sound of the shells as they shrieked through the twilight, and traversed the whole line of battle in their devastating course, was almost as terrifying as the wild work they made when they burst in the center of a column. No efforts of the rebel generals could urge the men forward against these new engines of destruction. There was something mysterious and awful in the very sound