Almost at the same instant our pontoon touches the shore. There is a rush, a charge, a brief struggle, and that picket guard is _hors du combat_. Quickly deploying on the bank we advance, but the enemy retires more quickly;—and we have established a firm foothold, the pontoon bridge is laid, and the whole corps is streaming across as the morning sun rises above the horizon. The fog still clings, however, to the rising ground on which Franklin fought at the first battle of Fredericksburg, and we move with due caution, skirmishers well out, not knowing what sort of a reception Stonewall Jackson, whose corps is known to occupy the wooded heights beyond, may have in store for us. But no serious opposition is offered after the affair of the pickets, and gradually we occupy most of the ground previously held by the centre of Franklin’s grand division. The fog lifts at last, and the sight revealed is a picturesque one. Before us, a level plain, extending on the right to the suburbs of Fredericksburg, and on the left, cut with ravines and hillocks somewhat, for a long distance. Back of us, the river; fronting, on either hand, the plain ending in a range of wooded hills, semicircular in shape, and dotted with fortifications. The enemy’s picket line is well out upon the plain but touching the river above us near the city. Extending our left it soon came in contact with Reynolds’ corps, which had effected a crossing a mile or two lower down, after a sharp artillery fight in which the enemy showed superior metal, but was obliged to retire after the infantry got over. Midway from the river to the range of hills, and parallel with the former, is a deep ravine where partial shelter from the concentric fire from the artillery posted on Marye’s Heights on the right and on the hills in front, was afforded Franklin’s troops in the previous battle. A few artillery shots are fired, soon after establishing our lines, and then all becomes quiet. What does this inaction portend? Evidently, Lee is acting on the defensive, and waiting for the development of Hooker’s strategy. He does not have long to wait. Before us is the whole rebel army. Will it swoop down upon us before Hooker can develop his left and crush us? This is the conundrum with which we wrestle, as the hours wear away, varying it with a conjecture as to whether we shall be ordered to assault the enemy, in his chosen position, against which Burnside had thrown the flower of his army only to be hurled back discomfited. Another artillery duel between Reynolds and Jackson later in the day closes the fighting, and a night of repose follows. The succeeding day proved to be one of quiet, also, but there was a constant movement of troops in our rear on the heights of Falmouth, the line of march being directly up river. “You see them on their winding way, About their ranks the sunbeams play.”