vigorously, but fortunately, or unfortunately, the fog was so
dense that neither party could make accurate observations or do
much execution.

For reasons that have passed into history, the attack was not
made. We withdrew six miles from the city and went into camp.

I had scarcely begun to enjoy much-needed rest before the
Confederates came up in the darkness and shelled us out of such
quarters as we had found. We had to leave our boiling coffee
behind us--one of the greatest hardships I have ever known. Then
followed a long night-ride down the Peninsula, in driving sleet
and rain.

The next morning the sun broke out gloriously, warming and drying
our chilled, wet forms. Nearly all that day we maintained a line
of battle confronting the pursuing enemy. One brigade would take a
defensive position, while the other would march about five miles
to a commanding point, where it in turn would form a line. The
first brigade would then give way, pass through the second, and
take position well to the rear. Thus, although retreating, we were
always ready to fight. At one point the enemy pressed us closely,
and I saw a magnificent cavalry charge down a gentle descent in
the road. Every sabre seemed tipped with fire in the brilliant
sunshine.

In the afternoon it became evident that there was a body of troops
before us. Who or what they were was at first unknown, and for a
time the impression prevailed that we should have to cut our way
through by a headlong charge. We soon learned, however, that the