We have described the battle of Manassas, Stone Bridge, or Bull Run, as it is variously called, in its plain details, giving each regiment, so far as possible, its share in the glorious fight; for up to mid-day and after, no braver fighting was ever done than the Union troops performed on that 21st of July. Now a wilder, more difficult, and very painful effort taxes the pen. The heat, turmoil and terrible storm of death rolls up in a tumultuous picture—troops in masses—stormy action—the confused rush of men—all these things have no detail, but hurl the writer forward, excited and unrestrained as the scene to be described. At high noon the battle raged in its widest circumference. The batteries on the distant hills began to pour their volleys on the Union troops with terrible effect. Carlisle’s and Sherman’s batteries answered with tremendous emphasis, while the great 32-pounder hurled its iron thunderbolts first into one of the enemy’s defences, then into another, tearing up everything as they went. The noise of the cannonading grew deafening, and kept up one incessant roll. Compared to it the sharp volleys of riflemen were like the rattle of hail amid the loud bursts of a thunder tempest. The people of Centreville, Fairfax, Alexandria, and even Washington, heard the fearful reverberations, and trembled at the sound. Five powerful batteries were in operation at once, joined to the hiss and hurtle of twenty thousand small arms! No wonder the sky turned black, impaled with death-smoke—no wonder the sun shone fierce and red upon the pools of warm human blood that began to gather around those batteries, where the slain were lying in heaps and winrows!