caissons were blown up by the fire, riderless horses dashed
hither and thither, the dead lay in heaps, and throngs of wounded
streamed to the rear. Every man lay down and sought what cover he
could. It was evident that the Confederate cannonade was but a
prelude to a great infantry attack, and at three o'clock Hunt
ordered the fire to stop, that the guns might cool, to be ready
for the coming assault. The Confederates thought that they had
silenced the hostile artillery, and for a few minutes their
firing continued; then, suddenly, it ceased, and there was a
lull.

The men on the Union side who were not at the point directly
menaced peered anxiously across the space between the lines to
watch the next move, while the men in the divisions which it was
certain were about to be assaulted, lay hugging the ground and
gripping their muskets, excited, but confident and resolute. They
saw the smoke clouds rise slowly from the opposite crest, where
the Confederate army lay, and the sunlight glinted again on the
long line of brass and iron guns which had been hidden from view
during the cannonade. In another moment, out of the lifting smoke
there appeared, beautiful and terrible, the picked thousands of
the Southern army coming on to the assault. They advanced in
three lines, each over a mile long, and in perfect order.
Pickett's Virginians held the center, with on their left the
North Carolinians of Pender and Pettigrew, and on their right the
Alabama regiments of Wilcox; and there were also Georgian and
Tennessee regiments in the attacking force. Pickett's division,
however, was the only one able to press its charge home. After
leaving the woods where they started, the Confederates had nearly
a mile and a half to go in their charge. As the Virginians moved,