different bearers had fallen in the vain effort to plan it in my works. At 2 p. m. the enemy attempted a second charge, less determined than the first. Their brave officers could neither lead nor drive their men to such certain death; I noticed as many as three mounted who fell far in advance of their commands urging them forward. The shelling of the enemy's batteries between 12 and 3 p. m. was the most furious I ever witnessed, while the range so precise that scarce a shell failed to explode in the line. The enemy seemed now to be satisfied that he could not carry my position, and contented himself by shelling and sharpshooting everything in sight. About 4 p. m. I saw the left suddenly give way three or four brigades distant from me. Almost instantaneously the line crumbled away till it reached me. I had no time to give any order or make any disposition to check the disaster, when my command showed symptoms of taking care of themselves. I could only order them back, hoping to reform in a new position. I had to retire under a destructive fire of eighteen guns, 600 yards distant, sweeping almost an open plain. I could not maintain order. The parallel stone walls on the pike separated my command in the center. I had neither staff officer nor courier mounted with me, and used my best endeavors to get my command all on the same side of the pike. I succeeded in doing this about one mile from the field, getting the greater body of the brigade together. I was directed by the major-general commanding to take position as rear guard of the army across the pike. Shortly after dark I moved slowly back, driving up and hurrying stragglers forward. At 11 p. m. I halted four miles from Hollow Tree Gap, remaining until 3 a. m. [17th], when I moved inside of the gap and halted in rear of Pettus' brigade. At daylight our cavalry stampeded, ran through the gap, and formed a mile in the rear. I sent, by direction of the major-general, a regiment up the hollow to the left of the gap. The enemy passing to the right induced the withdrawal of the brigades from the gap. I was unable to communicate with a portion of the regiment sent out, the enemy dashing in in force between us. I moved in rear of the brigade in line of battle to within one mile of Franklin, where I passed the brigade of General Gibson, drawn up to support a section of artillery. I hurried across the river and formed on the southern bank, in Franklin. By the time I had formed, the enemy's cavalry pursued Buford's cavalry division, driving it in confusion into the river. They were repulsed by Pettus' brigade, in the works north of the river, and the section of Bledsoe's battery, in my line on the south, not getting in musket-range of my command. The portion of the regiment I had detached in the morning and could not communicate with passed around the hills to the left of the pike, running five miles to get there. They came into the pike just at the position taken by General Gibson, exhausted with running around the enemy's cavalry. Without notice to myself or authority from the major-general, Brigadier-General Gibson ordered this detachment of about seventy-five men to remain and cover the battery. Then withdrawing with the battery he withdrew his brigade, while my small detachment, in obedience to his orders, held the position, covered the retreat of himself and the section. As a matter of course they were overwhelmed by the enemy's cavalry, 2,000 or 3,000 of whom had surrounded them, three officers and five men only escaping. I went into line next just outside of the trenches of Franklin. The enemy's cavalry dashed up to within 300 yards of my line, firing carbines and pistols. Three or four volleys drove them back. I then marched back in line, halting every few hundred yards until I passed through