great in this open space to take the works by a regular advance in line of battle, so the men began to call for orders to “charge.”  Whether the order was given or not, the troops with one impulse sprang forward.  When in a small swale or depression in the ground, near the center of the field, the abattis was discovered in front of the works.  Seeing the impossibility to make their way through it under such a fire, the troops halted and returned the fire.  Those behind the works would raise their bare heads above the trenches, fire away, regardless of aim or direction, then fall to the bottom to reload.  This did not continue long, for all down the line from our extreme right the line gave way, and was pushed back to the rear and towards our left, our troops mounting their works and following them as they fled in wild disorder.  “Over the works, cross over,” was the command now given, and we closed in with a dash to the abattis—­over it and down in the trenches—­before the enemy realized their position.  Such a sight as met our eyes as we mounted their works was not often seen.  For a mile or more in every direction towards the rear was a vast plain or broken plateau, with not a tree or shrub in sight.  Tents whitened the field from one end to the other for a hundred paces in rear of the line, while the country behind was one living sea of men and horses—­all fleeing for life and safety.  Men, shoeless and hatless, went flying like mad to the rear, some with and some without their guns.  Here was a deserted battery, the horses unhitched from the guns; the caissons were going like the wind, the drivers laying the lash all the while.  Cannoneers mounted the unhitched horses barebacked, and were straining every nerve to keep apace with caissons in front.  Here and there loose horses galloped at will, some bridleless, others with traces whipping their flanks to a foam.  Such confusion, such a panic, was never witnessed before by the troops.  Our cannoneers got their guns in position, and enlivened the scene by throwing shell, grape, and cannister into the flying fugitives.  Some of the captured guns were turned and opened upon the former owners.  Down to our left we could see men leaving the trenches, while others huddled close up to the side of the wall, displaying a white flag.  Our ranks soon became almost as much disorganized as those of the enemy.  The smoking breakfast, just ready for the table, stood temptingly inviting, while the opened tents displayed a scene almost enchanting to the eyes of the Southern soldier, in the way of costly blankets, overcoats, dress uniforms, hats, caps, boots, and shoes all thrown in wild confusion over the face of the earth.  Now and then a suttler’s tent displayed all the luxuries and dainties a soldier’s heart could wish for.  All this fabulous wealth of provisions and clothing looked to the half-fed, half-clothed Confederates like the wealth of the Indies.  The soldiers broke over all order and discipline for a