Grant had drawn his lines from a point in Charles City, on the left bank of James River, across that stream and across the Appomattox, around Petersburg to the Squirrel Level road, where he threatened the Southside railroad, Lee’s line of communication with the south and west. Fort Harrison had just been taken. Grant was gradually hemming in his opponent along the immense line extending across the two rivers, past the scene of the famous “Crater” explosion, to the vicinity of the Rowanty, a distance of nearly forty miles. One incessant crash and thunder went up, day and night. Grant was “hammering continuously,” carrying out his programme; and, the military view apart, never was spectacle more picturesque than that presented in these combats. The long lines of works were wreathed with the smoke of battle. The glare of cannon lit the smoke-cloud; mortar shells rose, described their fiery curves, and descended in the trenches, and these were saluted as they rose and fell by the crack of musketry, the roar of artillery, the echoing cheers of the blue and gray people, who never seemed weary of fighting, yelling, and paying their compliments to each other. At night the spectacle was superb; the mortars were like flocks of fire-birds, swooping down upon their prey. The horizon glared at each cannon-shot; shell burst in vivid lightnings, shining for a moment, then extinguished. And yonder object, like a bloodshot eye, shining grimly through the darkness,--what is that? It is a lamp, my dear reader, with a transparent shade; and on this shade is written, for the information of the graybacks:-- “While yet the lamp holds out to burn, The vilest rebel may return.” Lee’s lines faced Grant’s, following the blue cordon across the rivers, around Petersburg, toward the Southside railroad. Beyond the right of the Confederate infantry stretched the cavalry, which consisted of the divisions of Wade Hampton and W.H.F. Lee,--the former commanding. Fitz Lee, with his division, was in the Valley. Such, reader was the situation, when I joined the army. The great fifth act of the tragic drama was approaching. XV. MOHUN AGAIN. Three days after my arrival, I mounted my horse, crossed the Appomattox, followed the Boydton road, struck southward at the Quaker road, and soon found myself in the heart of the shadowy pine woods of that singular country, Dinwiddie. My official duty was to inspect and report the condition of the cavalry and horse artillery of the army at the beginning and middle of each month. And now, first assuring the reader that I performed my duty in all weather, and amid every difficulty, I will drop the official phase of my history, and proceed to matters rather more entertaining. On the day after my departure from Petersburg, I had made my inspections, and was returning.