The long lines of works were wreathed with the smoke of battle. The
glare of cannon lit the smoke-cloud; mortar shells rose, described
their fiery curves, and descended in the trenches, and these were
saluted as they rose and fell by the crack of musketry, the roar of
artillery, the echoing cheers of the blue and gray people, who never
seemed weary of fighting, yelling, and paying their compliments to each
other. At night the spectacle was superb; the mortars were like flocks
of fire-birds, swooping down upon their prey. The horizon glared at
each cannon-shot; shell burst in vivid lightnings, shining for a
moment, then extinguished. And yonder object, like a bloodshot eye,
shining grimly through the darkness,--what is that? It is a lamp, my
dear reader, with a transparent shade; and on this shade is written,
for the information of the graybacks:--
"While yet the lamp holds out to burn,
The vilest rebel may return."
Lee's lines faced Grant's, following the blue cordon across the rivers,
around Petersburg, toward the Southside railroad.
Beyond the right of the Confederate infantry stretched the cavalry,
which consisted of the divisions of Wade Hampton and W.H.F. Lee,--the
former commanding. Fitz Lee, with his division, was in the Valley.
Such, reader was the situation, when I joined the army.
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