command, “Forward, double quick,” and with a yell our fellows dashed up the hill which shielded the enemy from our view; but, as we gained its crest, a terrible volley was poured into our very faces, and the regiment reeled and staggered, for Johnson was down struggling to disengage himself from his dying horse, and some twenty of the officers and men had fallen. The pause was but momentary, however, for collecting themselves the brave fellows rushed furiously upon the enemy, and, reserving their fire until they were within twenty paces of them, poured into their ranks so destructive a volley that the survivors broke and attempted to reach their main body. In this but few succeeded, as they were compelled to recross an open field, about four hundred yards wide, and all the while subjected to our fire, which was delivered with the utmost coolness and precision. Our loss in this unfortunate fight was severe, for besides the many brave officers and men in the three little regiments, we had to mourn the death of the chivalrous Ashby, the idol of the army. Early in the conflict, while urging his men forward, and exposing himself most recklessly, a ball passed through his body, and he fell dead. [Illustration: Brig. Gen. BRADLEY T. JOHNSON.] When the news of the death of this Christian gentleman and glorious soldier became known to the army, a universal wail went up, and strong men wept like children, for truly they had lost one they dearly loved. Never more was his clarion voice to be heard as he led his fierce legions in the headlong charge. Never more the piercing gray eye to sparkle as he dashed with lightning speed through the ranks of the foemen, dealing death blows at every stride, avenging his people’s wrongs and the death of a basely-murdered brother. The First Maryland had many of its noblest spirits to mourn for, and among them the gallant Captain N. S. Robertson, Lieutenant Nicholas Snowden, and privates Beatty, Schleigh, Harris, and others whose names I do not remember. The loss of the enemy was very severe. Their commander, Lieutenant-Colonel Kane, with several of his officers and many of the men were wounded and prisoners in our hands, and, to use Kane’s own words, “hardly a dozen of the command escaped.” Sadly, as the dusk of evening came on, we gathered together our dead, and the wounded of both sides who could bear removal, and mournfully retraced our steps, and near midnight lay down to rest beside our cold, inanimate companions. As we lay there we could not but think how many of us would in a few hours be with them, sleeping our last sleep; and the next morning, as we listened to the reveille, we thought it might be our last, for our dead comrades had heard it but yesterday. Such is the uncertainty of a soldier’s life.