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West Virginia (West Virginia, United States) (search for this): article 8
The battle-field and the camp.[Correspondence of the Richmond Dispatch.] Fauquier Co., Va., Nov. 12 1861. To travel over this part of the country may probably suggest to a very vivid imagination the character of the marches our troops in Western Virginia undergo, though comparatively the country here is smooth and the roads good. If a country is "tolerably level" where you are no sooner down one hill than another appears before you, and if roads are "pretty good" where you are perpetually jolted and jumbled over rocks as big as cheeses, up and down natural steps, into deep mud holes, on one side the carriage, till your companion is unexpectedly jerked into your lap, then immediately pitched back again by a deep rut in the opposite direction — if this, at the rate of three miles an hour, is "pretty good traveling," may Heaven preserve our poor men in their forced marches through the mountains where roads are really admitted to be bad — bad even to those whose fortitude, phi
Bull Run, Va. (Virginia, United States) (search for this): article 8
rection — if this, at the rate of three miles an hour, is "pretty good traveling," may Heaven preserve our poor men in their forced marches through the mountains where roads are really admitted to be bad — bad even to those whose fortitude, philosophy, and contentment render them uncomplaining in the midst of every hardship, and even cheerful in their endurance of it. Thus we thought of them as we traversed these "pretty good roads," some half a score of miles, to the battle ground of Bull Run. Ah! what a scene of desolation meets the eye as you first catch sight of this memorable spot. On the brow of the hill the old woman's house in seen even in the distance to be a mere shell. The sky and the light shine through it, and every step you approach reveals the havoc of cannon ball and rifle bullet — prostrate fences, singed and blackened balls, and stems of trees broken short off, their branches lying near them, while scattered bones lie bleaching, and fragments of every kind ev<
s of the neighboring farm houses — a just retribution, if it is true that those same people were the means of guiding the invaders to the ground, as has been inferred. Near this place the Fourth Alabama regiment encountered the enemy for an hour and forty minutes within 50 yards; the Eighth Georgia held them at bay in another part, and many of these brave men fell near by and are buried where they fell. A stone tablet marks the grave of Capt. Howard, beneath the pine trees, near where Keishaw's regiment, the 49th Virginia, the 7th and 18th Georgia, and a South Carolina regiment, kept the Northern forces back and held the space "for life or for death," as commanded, for forty minutes. There was the first position of Sherman's battery on the ridge of the hill by some persimmon trees, and its advance is told by broken fences and traces of cannon ball, past the old stone house and up the opposite hill, into the old woman's yard, where it was finally taken. Many other places we visi
winds are rapidly laying bare the few remaining boughs of the trees around poor old Mrs. Henry's house, where she was shot in her bed, and where her remains now die interred in the yard close by. A dull and dreary day it was, befitting the harrowing scenes that presented themselves. The wind was sighing among the pine trees, and whistling through the perforated roof of the shattered dwelling. A marble shaft marks the spot where Col. Bartow received his mortal wound. The place where Gen. Bee fell is within a hundred yards, and not far off 250 of the enemy lie buried. In another spot on the opposite hill another heap of invaders were placed beneath the sod. The water all around has been so tainted by their mortal remains that it cannot be used by the occupants of the neighboring farm houses — a just retribution, if it is true that those same people were the means of guiding the invaders to the ground, as has been inferred. Near this place the Fourth Alabama regiment encoun
places where the conflict was the deadliest. Autumn's winds are rapidly laying bare the few remaining boughs of the trees around poor old Mrs. Henry's house, where she was shot in her bed, and where her remains now die interred in the yard close by. A dull and dreary day it was, befitting the harrowing scenes that presented themselves. The wind was sighing among the pine trees, and whistling through the perforated roof of the shattered dwelling. A marble shaft marks the spot where Col. Bartow received his mortal wound. The place where Gen. Bee fell is within a hundred yards, and not far off 250 of the enemy lie buried. In another spot on the opposite hill another heap of invaders were placed beneath the sod. The water all around has been so tainted by their mortal remains that it cannot be used by the occupants of the neighboring farm houses — a just retribution, if it is true that those same people were the means of guiding the invaders to the ground, as has been inferred.
emy for an hour and forty minutes within 50 yards; the Eighth Georgia held them at bay in another part, and many of these brave men fell near by and are buried where they fell. A stone tablet marks the grave of Capt. Howard, beneath the pine trees, near where Keishaw's regiment, the 49th Virginia, the 7th and 18th Georgia, and a South Carolina regiment, kept the Northern forces back and held the space "for life or for death," as commanded, for forty minutes. There was the first position of Sherman's battery on the ridge of the hill by some persimmon trees, and its advance is told by broken fences and traces of cannon ball, past the old stone house and up the opposite hill, into the old woman's yard, where it was finally taken. Many other places we visited, all so frequently described that our readers need no repetition of the scenes. Several parties were inspecting these historic grounds even on this dreary autumnal day, and we were informed that not a day has passed since the
remains that it cannot be used by the occupants of the neighboring farm houses — a just retribution, if it is true that those same people were the means of guiding the invaders to the ground, as has been inferred. Near this place the Fourth Alabama regiment encountered the enemy for an hour and forty minutes within 50 yards; the Eighth Georgia held them at bay in another part, and many of these brave men fell near by and are buried where they fell. A stone tablet marks the grave of Capt. Howard, beneath the pine trees, near where Keishaw's regiment, the 49th Virginia, the 7th and 18th Georgia, and a South Carolina regiment, kept the Northern forces back and held the space "for life or for death," as commanded, for forty minutes. There was the first position of Sherman's battery on the ridge of the hill by some persimmon trees, and its advance is told by broken fences and traces of cannon ball, past the old stone house and up the opposite hill, into the old woman's yard, where it
tance to be a mere shell. The sky and the light shine through it, and every step you approach reveals the havoc of cannon ball and rifle bullet — prostrate fences, singed and blackened balls, and stems of trees broken short off, their branches lying near them, while scattered bones lie bleaching, and fragments of every kind even yet remain to point the places where the conflict was the deadliest. Autumn's winds are rapidly laying bare the few remaining boughs of the trees around poor old Mrs. Henry's house, where she was shot in her bed, and where her remains now die interred in the yard close by. A dull and dreary day it was, befitting the harrowing scenes that presented themselves. The wind was sighing among the pine trees, and whistling through the perforated roof of the shattered dwelling. A marble shaft marks the spot where Col. Bartow received his mortal wound. The place where Gen. Bee fell is within a hundred yards, and not far off 250 of the enemy lie buried. In anot
November 12th, 1861 AD (search for this): article 8
The battle-field and the camp.[Correspondence of the Richmond Dispatch.] Fauquier Co., Va., Nov. 12 1861. To travel over this part of the country may probably suggest to a very vivid imagination the character of the marches our troops in Western Virginia undergo, though comparatively the country here is smooth and the roads good. If a country is "tolerably level" where you are no sooner down one hill than another appears before you, and if roads are "pretty good" where you are perpetually jolted and jumbled over rocks as big as cheeses, up and down natural steps, into deep mud holes, on one side the carriage, till your companion is unexpectedly jerked into your lap, then immediately pitched back again by a deep rut in the opposite direction — if this, at the rate of three miles an hour, is "pretty good traveling," may Heaven preserve our poor men in their forced marches through the mountains where roads are really admitted to be bad — bad even to those whose fortitude, ph