four o'clock
Friday
`` There 's a fringe of trees near the water 's edge , whose tops reach nearly tot he top of the hill . The cannon shots tear the branches off and dash down the great ranks of Rebels with them . '' `` The arth rocks as when He lays his finger upon hit , '' said Aunt Debby . The ground was trembling under the explosion of the fifty-eight pieces of artillery which Rosencrans hastily massed at four o'clock Friday , for the relief of his overpowered left . `` What 's them that go ` boo-woo-woo , ' like great big dogs barkin ' ? '' `` Those are John Mendenhall 's big Napoleons , '' said a wounded artillery officer . `` Go on , Miss. .