92 OBCHARD KNOB. 



the battle, written many years afterward, 

 makes no mention of this its most dramatic 

 incident, so that the reader of his narrative 

 would never divine but that everything had 

 been done according to the plans and orders 

 of the general in command. 



Orders or no orders, the fight was won. 

 That was more than thirty years ago. It 

 was now a pleasant May afternoon, the 

 afternoon of May-day itself. The date, in- 

 deed, was the immediate occasion of my 

 presence. I had started from Chattanooga 

 with the intention of going once more to 

 Missionary Ridge, which just now offered 

 peculiar attractions to a stranger of ornitho- 

 logical proclivities. But the car was full 

 of laughing, smartly dressed colored people ; 

 they were bound for the same place, it ap- 

 peared, on their annual picnic ; and, being 

 in a quiet mood, I took the hint and dropped 

 out by the way. 



There was much to feel but little to see at 

 Orchard Knob ; and yet I recall two plants 

 that I found there for the first time ; a low 

 gromwell (^LWiosjjermiim canescens)^ with 

 clustered bright yellow flowers, and an odd 

 and homely greenish milkweed (^Ascleinas 



