But where _was_ rear? Where was front? Where was any thing? After meditating profoundly on these questions, I decided that my course lay in the direction of the earth-works on one side of the open ground. This was the "rear," and these works had been abandoned in the progress of advance. Proceeding leisurely in this direction, I had not advanced far until I was surprised by the boom of a cannon behind me. A shell screamed over my head, and exploded with a sharp ring against the earth-works a few hundred yards ahead of me. Looking back, I saw a Yankee officer standing on the earth-work, glass in hand, watching the effects of the shot. This was a revelation. I was between the lines, and heading for the rebel works. That shot saved me a trip to a Confederate prison-pen. Hastily retracing my steps, I lost no time in reaching our lines, expecting each moment that an artillery battle would break out while I was between the combatants. The position was perhaps a half-mile to the right of the spot where I had last seen the regiment. No infantry was visible, but no doubt there were troops concealed in the woods near by. The sharp ridges by which the open ground was broken were occupied by artillery, the men standing by their guns. The day was before me, and I was resolved to have a little more experience; the more so as I could make my observations in comparative safety. Those guns frowning grimly over the earthen redoubts meant mischief. I would see an artillery fight; my curiosity was soon amply gratified. Standing near a vacant redoubt, looking toward the rebel batteries, suddenly a white smoke burst forth, followed by the roar of cannon and the hissing shriek of shells, as the noisy missiles came tearing through the air toward us. After the first discharge, the rebel fire was directed chiefly to the right of the earth-work behind which I had taken refuge, though shells kept striking and bursting around. My position, however, was favorable for a view of our own batteries, and for observing the effect of the enemy's fire. Sometimes the shells would strike the ground, sending the dirt many feet into the air, and go tearing across the field, touching the ground and bounding again at intervals. Others would strike the earth-works, or explode in the air, and hurl their fragments far and near, whizzing and buzzing to the earth. This noisy combat lasted for some time, and ceased,--not because either of the combatants was seriously damaged, as far as I could see, but because they were tired of it.