At last we struggled through, reaching my friend's house with no other
damage than some strained spokes and a broken spring. There I found
horses ready caparisoned, and a faithful contraband to guide me on my
way. The ride was as pleasant as the drive had been disagreeable. It was
positive rest to exchange the jolting and jerking of the carriage for
the familiar sway of the saddle. I had a strong hackney under me, a
bright clear sky overhead, and a companion who, if not brilliantly
amusing, was very passably intelligent.
He was able to tell me all about the South Mountain fight: indeed, our
route lay right across the centre of that bloody battle-ground. Riding
along the valley, with the hills on our left, we soon came to
Birkettsville: close above was the scene of the most furious assaults,
and the most obstinate struggle. The quaint little hamlet--reminding you
of a Dutch village--looked cheerful enough now, as the sun shimmered
over the dark-red bricks, and glistening roofs grouped round a more
glittering chapel-cupola; but one could not help remembering, that
thither, on a certain afternoon, in just such pleasant weather, came
maimed men by hundreds, crawling or being carried in; and that for weeks
after, scarce one of those cozy houses but sheltered some miserable
being moaning his tortured life away.
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