That is the word which rises to the lips of every Southerner, above all to every Virginian, who attempts to describe this terrible battle of Gettysburg. The cheeks flush, the voice falters, and something like a fiery mist blinds the eyes. What comes back to the memory of the old soldiers who saw that fight is a great picture of heroic assaults, ending in frightful carnage only,--of charges such as the world has rarely seen, made in vain,--of furious onslaughts, the only result of which was to strew those fatal fields with the dead bodies of the flower of the Southern race. And we were so near succeeding! Twice the enemy staggered; and one more blow--only one more! promised the South a complete victory! When Longstreet attacked Round Top Hill, driving the enemy back to their inner line, victory seemed within our very grasp--but we could not snatch it. The enemy acknowledge that, and it is one of their own poets who declares that “The century reeled When Longstreet paused on the slope of the hill.” Pickett stormed Cemetery Heights, and wanted only support. Five thousand men at his back would have given him victory. There is a name for the battle of Gettysburg which exactly suits it--“The Great Graze!” You must go to the histories, reader, for a detailed account of this battle. I have not the heart to write it, and aim to give you a few scenes only. In my hasty memoirs I can touch only upon the salient points, and make the general picture. The ground on which the battle was fought, is familiar to many thousands. A few words will describe it. Cemetery Ridge, where General Meade had taken up his position, is a range of hills running northward toward Gettysburg, within a mile of which place it bends off to the right, terminating in a lofty and rock-bound crest. This crest was Meade’s right. His line stretched away southward then, and ended at Round Top Hill, the southern extremity of the range, about four miles distant. From one end to the other of the extensive range, bayonets glistened, and the muzzles of cannon grinned defiance. Opposite the Cemetery Range was a lower line of hills, called Seminary Range. Upon this Lee was posted, Ewell holding his left, A. P. Hill his centre, and Longstreet his right. Between the two armies stretched a valley, waving with grain and dotted with fruit-trees, through which ran the Emmettsburg road, on the western side of a small stream. The golden grain waved gently; the limpid water lapsed away beneath grass and flowers; the birds were singing; the sun was shining--it was the strangest of all scenes for a bloody conflict. I rode along the line of battle, and curiously scanned the features of the landscape. There is a frightful interest connected with ground which is soon going to become the arena of a great combat. A glance told me that the enemy’s position was much the stronger of the two. Would Lee attack it?