Before dawn on the following morning, we made our way again to the river. Thousands crowded upon the banks, or hurriedly dashed across the bridge. The rumble of wheels upon the frozen ground, the tramp of thousands of men, the neighing of innumerable horses, mingled with the roar of musketry. The sun rose in splendor, and the spires of the city, two miles to our right, shone brightly, for only the lower part of the town had been destroyed by the conflagration of the day before, and tens of thousands of muskets gleamed in the morning light. The broad plain, on the south bank, swarmed with the hosts of Franklin and Hooker. Musketry fire became more and more brisk, as our forces moved into position, but no general engagement came on. Shells from the rebel batteries came bursting in our midst, and in reply, our own guns on Stafford Heights sent their shells screaming over our heads, to burst in the midst of the rebel artillerists.
A fine stone mansion of large dimensions, situated on the south bank of the river, and a little below the bridge, was taken by the surgeons of our Second division, for a hospital. The position was exposed to the rebel fire, but it was the best that could be found. Just in front of it the gallant General Bayard, of the cavalry, was struck by a shell, and killed instantly. Others, some of whom had been previously been wounded, received fatal shots at the very doors of the house. The owner of this magnificent mansion still remained in it. He was an old secesh bachelor, very aristocratic in his notions, and highly incensed at the use his house was put to by the "hireling Yankees." But he was taken care of by a guard. His servants cooked for the wounded and our surgeons; his fine larder furnished us delicacies and his cellar rich old wines.
Doubtless his feelings on delivering to us the keys of his wine cellar were not unlike those of Sir Hugh Berkley in "The Wagoner;" who
"--only knew they drank his wine; Would they might hang, a scarecrow line, On the next lightning blasted tree."
Saturday, the sun appeared, bright and warm as on a spring morning. The battle now commenced in terrible earnest. First, on the left, the booming of heavy guns and the rattle of musketry told of hot work in our own front. Then gradually the battle rolled on to the right; and while it thundered there, our forces on the left remained comparatively quiet. Then, back again came the roar of cannon, the shrieking and cracking of shells and the din of musketry.