The word is given--the dark lines dash forward; the firing from the wood breaks out in a crash of fury--there is a long harsh rattle, then a chance crack like a thunder-clap, and then a whirring like the spinning of some demoniac mill. Curses ring out amid a low sound of hard breathing; the ranks are gapped here and there as a man wriggles away like a wounded rabbit, or another bounds upward with a frantic ejaculation. Then comes the fighting at close quarters. Perhaps kind women who are misled by the newspaper-writer's brisk babblement may like to know what that means, so I give the words of the best eyewitness that ever gazed on warfare. He took down his notes by the light of burning wood, and he had no time to think of grammar. All his words were written like mere convulsive cries, but their main effect is too vivid to be altered. Notice that he rarely concludes a sentence, for he wanted to save time, and the bullets were cutting up the ground and the trees all round him. "Patches of the wood take fire, and several of the wounded, unable to move, are consumed. Quite large spaces are swept over, burning the dead also; some of the men have their hair and beards singed, some burns on their faces and hands, others holes burnt in their clothing. The flashes of fire from the cannon, the quick glaring flames and smoke, and the immense roar--the musketry so general; the light nearly bright enough for each side to see the other; the crashing, tramping of men--the yelling--close quarters--hand-to-hand conflicts. Each side stands up to it, brave, determined as demons; and still the wood's on fire--still many are not only scorched--too many, unable to move, are burned to death. Who knows the conflict, hand-to-hand--the many conflicts in the dark--those shadowy, tangled, flashing, moon-beamed woods--the writhing groups and squads--the cries, the din, the cracking guns and pistols, the distant cannon--the cheers and calls and threats and awful music of the oaths, the indescribable mix, the officers' orders, persuasions, encouragements--the devils fully roused in human hearts--the strong shout, 'Charge, men--charge!'--the flash of the naked swords, and rolling flame and smoke? And still the broken, clear, and clouded heaven; and still again the moonlight pouring silvery soft its radiant patches over all."