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Pages from an Old Volume of Life; a collection of essays, 1857-1881 by Oliver Wendell Holmes
page 38 of 156 (24%)
through the head. In several places I noticed dark red patches where a
pool of blood had curdled and caked, as some poor fellow poured his life
out on the sod. I then wandered about in the cornfield. It surprised me
to notice, that, though there was every mark of hard fighting having
taken place here, the Indian corn was not generally trodden down. One of
our cornfields is a kind of forest, and even when fighting, men avoid the
tall stalks as if they were trees. At the edge of this cornfield lay a
gray horse, said to have belonged to a Rebel colonel, who was killed near
the same place. Not far off were two dead artillery horses in their
harness. Another had been attended to by a burying-party, who had thrown
some earth over him but his last bed-clothes were too short, and his legs
stuck out stark and stiff from beneath the gravel coverlet. It was a
great pity that we had no intelligent guide to explain to us the position
of that portion of the two armies which fought over this ground. There
was a shallow trench before we came to the cornfield, too narrow for a
road, as I should think, too elevated for a water-course, and which
seemed to have been used as a rifle-pit. At any rate, there had been
hard fighting in and about it. This and the cornfield may serve to
identify the part of the ground we visited, if any who fought there
should ever look over this paper. The opposing tides of battle must have
blended their waves at this point, for portions of gray uniform were
mingled with the "garments rolled in blood" torn from our own dead and
wounded soldiers. I picked up a Rebel canteen, and one of our own,--but
there was something repulsive about the trodden and stained relics of the
stale battle-field. It was like the table of some hideous orgy left
uncleared, and one turned away disgusted from its broken fragments and
muddy heeltaps. A bullet or two, a button, a brass plate from a
soldier's belt, served well enough for mementos of my visit, with a
letter which I picked up, directed to Richmond, Virginia, its seal
unbroken. "N. C. Cleveland County. E. Wright to J. Wright." On the
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