Approaching the sufferer we were shocked to behold the familiar features of the chivalrous Captain Wm. Brown, of the Chesapeake Artillery. His face was pale as death, and although both legs had been horribly shattered by a cannon ball, he smiled as he recognized us. Turning to Captain Torsch, he said in a weak voice: “Captain, if you should get home, tell my poor old father I died endeavoring to do my duty.” “We are making out badly up there,” said one of the litter bearers. “Major Latimer has been carried from the field mortally wounded; and if kept on that hill much longer more of us will be likely to follow him!” For at least two hours this awful fire continued without a moment’s cessation, when aids were seen dashing furiously down the long line of infantry on our right, who spring to their feet as they pass, and were at once in motion. “Mount your horse quickly,” said the Colonel, “for we are going in;” and the next instant, in a clear, distinct voice, heard even above the din of battle, he gave the command, “Forward, guide centre!” and the gallant sons of Maryland commenced their march to defeat and death. Preceded by a cloud of skirmishers, steadily the long line in grey advanced across the Hanover road, and entered the woods before them. We found the ground here very uneven, and covered with immense rocks, which necessitated the dismounting of field and staff officers, and the horses were sent to the rear. We passed over more than a mile of this country before our skirmishers encountered those of the enemy upon the banks of Rock creek. A sharp fight ensued, but our gallant fellows dashed across the creek, which was waist deep, and put them to flight. The order was then given by some one for the skirmishers to join the main body. The disastrous consequences that followed this order will be presently seen.