As we neared the field the artillery and infantry fire increased in volume, and it was evident that the advanced troops of Jackson were hotly engaged, as were those of Hill on our right. Steadily the rattle of musketry swelled as Jackson forwarded reinforcements, until it became almost deafening. But as hour after hour passed, and that awful fire did not recede, he began to show symptoms of uneasiness. Upon his success on the left depended everything. Should he fail the splendidly conceived plans of General Lee would fail also, and Richmond would be at the mercy of the invader. Was it a wonder, then, that he rode nervously to and fro, and appeared for the first time to fear that the gods of battle had forsaken him? Every eye was upon the great chieftain as he galloped along the lines of the troops held in reserve, and the anxious expression upon that heretofore immovable countenance was observable to all. “General Elzey,” said he, riding up to that gallant officer, “move your brigade forward; this officer will show you to where you are most needed,” at the same time pointing to a member of his staff who, all covered with dust and the smoke of battle, had just ridden up. “Good bye, Captain,” exclaimed the brave Captain William Shearer, of the Winchester Boomerangs in the Thirteenth Virginia, and a dear friend. “I hope to see you soon again;” and as his command filed by the poor fellow pressed my hand for the last time; for, alas, in a few minutes the brigade was cut to pieces, and he was carried from the field with a fatal wound in the head. And here, too, fell its heroic commander, Elzey, with a fearful wound through the face; and the dashing McDonald, of his staff, shot dead while performing prodigies of valor. As these disasters came thick and fast, and the enemy seemed to defy his utmost efforts, the right hand of Jackson was more frequently extended towards heaven, as though invoking the aid of the great invisible Being there, and his horse moved more rapidly as he impatiently spurred through the ranks awaiting intelligence from the front. “There goes Hood’s Texans!” exclaimed Colonel Johnson, as that splendid command, the last of our reserves, commenced to move. “If they fail, God help us;” and we all felt the truth of the observation. The little First Maryland was now left all alone, for having been detached from Scott’s Virginia brigade after the battle of Port Republic, and to which we had been attached temporarily; we were not expected to take much part in the heavy fighting, but were reserved principally for skirmish duty. “Colonel Johnson will remain where he is, and arrest all stragglers from the field,” was the order of General Jackson, as he put spurs to his horse and rode towards the front. “I will until after you get out of sight, Mr. Jackson, but no longer,” the Colonel muttered.