It was a neat little place, with many roads radiating from it as if it
were the hub of a wheel, and the thrifty farmers of that region had made
it a center for their schools.

Harry had learned from Jackson, and again from Lee, always to note
well the ground wherever he might ride. Such knowledge in battle was
invaluable, and his eyes dwelled long on Gettysburg.

He saw running south of the town a long high ridge, curving at the east
and crowned with a cemetery, because of which the people of Gettysburg
called it Cemetery Ridge or Hill. Opposed to it, some distance away and
running westward, was another but lower ridge that they called Seminary
Ridge. Beyond Seminary Ridge were other and yet lower ridges, between
two of which flowed a brook called Willoughby Run. Beyond them all,
two or three miles away and hemming in the valley, stretched South
Mountain, the crests of which were still clothed in the mists and vapors
of a sultry day. Near the town was a great field of ripening wheat,
golden when the sun shone. Not far from the horsemen was another little
stream called Plum Run. They also saw an unfinished railroad track,
with a turnpike running beside it, the roof and cupola of a seminary,
and beside the little marshy stream of Plum Run a mass of jagged,
uplifted rocks, commonly called the Devil's Den.

Harry knew none of these names yet, but he was destined to learn them
in such a manner that he could never forget them again. Now he merely
admired the peaceful and picturesque appearance of the town, set so
snugly among its hills.

"That's Gettysburg, which for us just at this moment is the shoe
metropolis of the world," said Dalton, "but I dare say we'll not be