repulsed on every side, save from the parapet which they purchased for their grave. A large quantity of fixed ammunition had been placed in the lower part, and a stray wad falling upon it, had blown them all up together. My duty required that I should immediately repair the bastion, and most horrible was the sight—bodies burnt and mutilated—some of them still pulsating with life, among them Lieut. Colonel Drummond, the leader of the attack. There he lay in the morning light, stark and stiff, extended on the rampart, a ball having passed through his breast. History mourns, that his courage assumed the character of ferocity. His war-cry of “No quarter to the damned Yankees,” his own death-warrant, was long remembered against his countrymen. The enemy did not resume the attack, but retiring to their entrenched camp, strengthened their works, and prepared to make their approach by regular advances. But come, spur on, we have far to ride—spur on. Here we are upon their works. Here is the stone water-battery, and there the two strong redoubts, and back of them the remains of their lines, and deep entrenchments. These are the works which were carried in the memorable and desperate sortie of Fort Erie. The right by Davis and Miller; the left by Porter and his volunteers. Here, on the left, quoth the Major, fell my gallant, my accomplished friend, Lieut. Col. Wood, at the head of his column. He was one of the most brilliant officers in the service, and as beautiful as a girl. I often gazed with astonishment at the desperate daring that characterised him in action; here he fell; he was bayonetted to death on the ground, on this spot“—and the Major’s voice quivered, and he turned his face from me, for the cruel death of his dear friend was too much for his manhood. His ashes sleep amid the Highlands of the Hudson, beneath their monument, near the flag-staff at West Point. Peace to his gallant spirit! The stars of his country can wave over no braver of her sons. BATTLE OF LUNDY’S LANE.