How little the General whose “headquarters were in the saddle,” knew his advantage; for he had it within his power to have annihilated the Confederate army. But if we are to believe his own report, and the account of his “Man Friday,” (“Personal recollection,” in that vilest of periodicals—_Harper_,) the illustrious Pope had too many generals in the field, and too many masters in Washington. The “lamented” would telegraph “do this;” Halleck would say “do that;” Fitz John Porter would do nothing; McClellan sent the commissary wagons to Washington, and it was but natural the hungry troops should seek their rations there—all of which, combined “unsaddled” poor Pope, and placed McClellan in his stead. More than once that night, as General Lee paced his room, he was heard to mutter: “The Gap must be forced at any sacrifice. On the success of this movement depends everything. General Jackson must be hard pressed; but he _will_ hold out, or I do not know my man. Twenty-four hours behind my promise to him; forty-eight hours would result in his destruction.” Friday, the 29th day of August, 1862, was a hot, sultry day, and the corps of Longstreet, already wearied and broken down by excessive marching, dragged itself along with difficulty. Had it not been for the stimulus afforded by the roar of Jackson’s artillery the ten long miles from Thoroughfare Gap would have consumed much more time, and there would have been many more stragglers. But steadily those veterans pressed on, and before noon the head of the column reached Haymarket, but a short distance from the scene of conflict. We here received the most encouraging accounts from Jackson. He was not only holding his ground, but had driven the enemy some distance before him. But nevertheless an expression of relief must have passed over that usually stern and placid face when he observed the clouds of dust that heralded the approach of the iron Longstreet. Rapidly the different brigades and divisions were thrown into position, and by three o’clock the line of battle was complete. Longstreet held the right, joining Jackson near the Groveton turnpike, and about a mile from that village, where was stationed Hood with his Texans, Virginians and Mississippians. Being personally acquainted with the General, I suggested to Atkins that he proffer the services of the “brigade” to him, which was readily acceded to. That gallant, glorious, but subsequently unfortunate officer, received us most cordially, but regretted that for the present he could assign us to no other duty than that of firing a musket. Enfields were soon procured, and we took our place in the ranks of the Fourth Texas, a regiment that at the battle of Gaine’s Mills had won imperishable laurels.