The army, far advanced within the enemy’s defensive lines, believing itself victorious, was thus falling into quiet. The great struggle of the contending forces, each to outflank the other, had ceased. The prestige of success belonged to the Union, whose stars and stripes shone out triumphantly as the smoke which had engulfed the combatants rolled away. All at once those in the tree-tops saw a commotion in the far distance. Columns of troops were moving toward them with flashing bayonets, and Southern banners, unfurling the stars and bars to the sun. On they came—rank after rank, column after column, one continuous stream of armed men, pouring down upon the battle-field with bursts of music and wild shouts of enthusiasm. It was Johnston’s reinforcements, marching up from the railroad. On they rushed, fresh, vigorous, and burning with ardor, through masses of wounded soldiers that lay by the road. The infantry broke from the double-quick to a swift run—the cavalry rode in on a sharp gallop—the artillery wagons were encircled with men eager to get their ordnance in place against the thrice-exhausted Union troops. In a continuous stream these columns swarmed into the woods, the greater force centering around the hill about which the storm of battle had raged fiercest. In an instant the whole battle commenced again. The officers sprang to their guns, anxious but not appalled. The men fell into rank ready for a new onset, tired as they were. Then it was that Griffin’s battery changed position, and the Fire Zouaves coming up under a terrible fire, broke and scattered down the hill-side, but rallied again in broken masses to rescue Rickett’s battery, dragging the guns off with their own hands from amid the pile of dying horses that lay around them. Then it was that the Sixty-ninth and Seventy-ninth New York swept through the meadows from the north across the road, and charged up the hill with such daring courage, resisting the shock of battle fifteen minutes, and breaking only when mortal valor could withstand the storm of bullets no longer. Then the bold Connecticut regiments charged up the hill. Thousands of the impetuous enemy fell upon them, but in spite of all they planted the star-spangled banner and sent its folds sweeping out from the crest of the hill. Not till this was done, and a long last shout sent ringing after the banner, were these heroic regiments driven from their position. But beaten back at last, they retired step by step, fighting as they went.