I would have them taken up to the outside of the ‘Crater,’ at which place he could employ himself until one o’clock, as perhaps no such opportunity had ever occurred or would be likely to occur for effective employment of these little implements of war.  Colonel Haskell adopted the suggestion, and the mortars being removed to a ditch within a few feet of the ‘Crater,’ they were quickly at work emptying their contents upon the crowded mass of men in this horrible pit.”

Lieutenant Bowley, a Federal officer, says:  “A mortar battery also opened on us.  After a few shots they got our range so well that the shells fell directly among us.  Many of them did not explode at all, but a few burst directly over us and cut the men down cruelly.”  He also speaks of a few Indians from Michigan.  “Some of them were mortally wounded, and, drawing their blouses over their faces, they chanted a death song and died—­four of them in a group.”

* * * * *

A FEAST AFTER A FAMINE.

About 3 o’clock p.m. absolute quietness prevailed over the battlefield where the carnage of war rioted a few hours before.  My Orderly, M.C.  Heath, a boy of sixteen, who now is a distinguished physician of Lexington, Ky., came to me at Elliott’s headquarters and told me that the Lieutenant Colonel and Adjutant sent their compliments and requested me to come to dinner at my den in the trench.  I went, and had to step over the dead bodies—­all negroes.  A narrow ditch led to a plaza six feet square, where a half dozen men, in fine weather, could sit on campstools.  On the breastworks hung a dead negro.  In the ditch I had to step over another dead negro.  As I got to my plaza I saw two more negroes badly wounded in a cell two feet deeper than the plaza where I slept.  One of the negroes was resting his bloody head on a fine copy of Paley’s philosophy, which I came across in my wanderings.  Heath’s big basket was well stored with good viands, and we ate with the ferocity of starving men, regaling ourselves with the incidents of battle, without any expressions of sorrow for our friends, Colonel David Fleming and Adjutant Quattlebaum, who a few yards above were entombed in our old sleeping place in the “Crater” which we occupied as our quarters until they succeeded us ten days before, or any lamentations for the hundreds of dead and dying on the hillside around.

The joy of the glorious victory drowned out all sentiments of grief for a season, and it seemed a weird holiday.

* * * * *

A BLUNDER IN BEAUREGARD’S BOOK.

Mr. Barnard, in his interesting article on the “Crater,” criticises a remarkable paragraph in Colonel Roman’s work, “basing his statements made by General Bushrod Johnson and Colonel McMaster.”  The only objection to my statement was I said Mahone’s charge was at 10 o’clock a.m.