Ceredo advance. [volume] (Ceredo, W. Va.) 1885-1939, 1905-02-22

strength, lS ridges, hope all epest
and gone. they drop their useless rifle
butts to earth and lean exhausted Oh
the hot. black muzzles. At least they
hold the ground.
So, too, does that stern. silent, iron
command across those so yards of
smoking void, with obstinate deter
mination." writes Old Jack. in rueful
admission of the stubborn valor of his
foe. And after all what has he ac-
complished? What has he not done this
night but blunder? All he had to do
was tc remain there in concealment
beyond that unfinished railway grade,
resting in the shady woods, and, all
unconscious of his presence, the union
brigades would have passed him by.
leaving Ricketts, far in the rear to be
cut off, crushed or captured. But the
sight Of 5000 Yankees marching along
almost parallel to his front, all unsup-
ported, was too much for even such
piety as Jackson's. Ordinarily he had
done wonders with a dozen regiments
nearly as small as these. Tonight he
sends in twice that number to assail
smaller force, and is fought to a
stand within an hour. He has gained
nothing. He has lost third of his
best and bravest-his Virginians. He
has betrayed his position to the enc
my, for Sigel, away to the southeast.
has heard the sound of battle. and Nc
Lean, brave leader of one of his few
American brigades, watches the des-
perate struggle from Ladue's old look
out at the Henry house, and Pope.
snllfully directing his diverging col
umn to trap Jackson at Centreville
hears over the left shoulder. far over
Bull Run, the furious cannonade long
league behind him, the storm of
battle that only dies out at nine, but
that tells him the tale of one more
trick of Jackson's-the time honored
tale of the Irishman's flea.
But it opens Popes otherwise blinded
eyes, changes in toto his plans for the
morrow, and bids him turn his COL
umns on Groveton. Jacksons blunder
has taken much from his own fame.
added much to those of another, and
given the Badgers and Hoosiers the
title they rejoice in ever thereafter
the name of the Iron Brigade.
Sore times are these, this black,
moonless night, as, within hailing dis
lance of each other, officers and men
OF the opposing forces go cropping about
with glimmering lights, looking for
friends among the slain. Sad hearts
are these beating in the bosoms of the
group of union generals in the fence
IL Al
1t is full of wounded The regimental
commanders are slowly Withdrawing
their wearied men to the line of the
pike, leaving strong pickets to protect
the surgeons and their stretcher- bear
ers at the front. 1t is a dramatic scene
when that dark-eyed soldier coin
mander of the Seventh rides in to re-
port TO his brigade chief concerning
the regiment that caustic regular"
has sometimes misiudged. What do
you think of the Seventh now" is the
irrepressible question just before the
colonel slips. fainting, from his saddle.
and then and not until then permits
it to be known TT all the time as he
held his men to their desperate work.
he sat his horse. pierced through both
thighs by Enfield bullet, his boots run
ming over with blood. Old Graybeard
OF the Sixth, too, is shot through the
leg. and Gibbon has borrowed hIs
right-hand man, the tall, brainy ad-
iutant, and the Sixth feels bere-t,
though it, too, falls into soldier hanss.
But the Black Hats and the Hoosiern
have lost more than all.
ITO Be Continued