The four divisions of the army of the Cumberland, one of which was commanded by Sheridan, made a charge, captured the enemy's rifle-pits at the foot of the Ridge, and took one thousand prisoners. Thirty guns immediately opened upon them with grape and canister, cutting them down in awful slaughter; but it delayed not their march. Steadily they pushed their way towards the crest of the ridge, and, halfway up, encountered another line of rifle-pits, which they charged upon and carried with the same impetuous fury which had marked their first assault. Grant and Thomas, on the knoll below, watched the fearful fighting, as the column mounted the hill. A portion of it was momentarily checked and turned by the savage fire poured in upon it. Thomas turned to Grant and said, with some hesitation, which revealed the emotion he struggled to conceal in the presence of his chief,-- "General, I--I'm--I'm--afraid they won't get _up_." Grant looked steadfastly at the column, waiting half a minute before he made any reply; then, coolly taking the cigar he was smoking from his mouth, he brushed away the ashes before he answered,-- "O, give them time, general," and quietly returned the cigar to his mouth. They only wanted a few moments more, and gathering up their energies, the men pressed forward with redoubled zeal, and gained the summit of the Ridge. With furious cheers they threw themselves upon the rebel works, and carried them almost instantly. The foe was overwhelmed in his strongest position, which, as Bragg said himself, "a line of skirmishers ought to have maintained against any assaulting force." Whole regiments threw down their arms, and others fled in hot haste down the eastern slope. The artillery was captured, and turned upon other portions of the rebel position. The Confederate line was sundered, and the enemy were thoroughly beaten in forty-five minutes after the order to charge had been given on the plain below. In the moment of victory Grant appeared upon the Ridge, and, passing along with his head uncovered, received the unanimous applause of the soldiers. They were in a transport of ecstasy over the victory they had won, and gathered around him with volleys of cheers, grasping his hands, and embracing his legs. I wonder not at their enthusiasm, for these men were of the army of the Cumberland, who had been "bottled up" in Chattanooga, to starve and die: and while they hailed the victorious general as the author of the triumph they had achieved, they also hailed him as their own deliverer. He coolly but not insensibly received their grateful plaudits. Without pausing to indulge in any self-glorification, he made the dispositions to complete the victory and pursue the fleeing host of rebels. [Illustration: GRANT AND THE SOLDIERS AT MISSIONARY RIDGE. Page 256.]