"I left home to help defend a Constitution that was second to none in the world, a flag which every nation on earth respected; and if I am to die, I shall be happy to die in the service of my country."
The boy-soldier was gone from the ranks, but his spirit was there, an all-animating presence.
When the battle began in the morning, I was at Hagerstown. It was ten miles to the field, but though so far, the cannonade seemed very near. It rolled along the valley and rumbled among the mountains. The people left their breakfasts, and climbed the hills and steeples to behold the battle-cloud. The women were pale, and stood with tearful eyes, forgetting their household cares.
A ride directly down the Sharpsburg pike would have taken me to the rear of Lee's army. It would be a new and interesting experience to witness the fight from that side. I started down the pike, my horse upon the gallop. A mile out of town I met a farmer.
"You will run right into the Rebels if you keep on."
"That is what I want to do. I want to see the battle from their side."
"Let me advise you not to go. I was in their clutches yesterday. They threatened to take me to Richmond. They stole my horse and my money, and I am glad enough to get clear. Let me advise you again not to go. You had better go down to Boonesboro', and see the battle from our side."
It was good advice, and I was soon upon the Boonesboro' road.
I came across a Rebel soldier lying at the foot of an oak-tree. He was weak with sickness, worn down by long marches, and had dropped from the ranks. He belonged to Longstreet's corps. He was too weak to speak. His breathing was short and quick and faint. His cheeks were hollow, his eyes sunken. Two kind-hearted farmers came and took him into a house.
"I am sorry I came up here to fight you," he whispered. He had lain beneath the oak a day and a night, waiting death, expecting no help or mercy from any one. The unexpected kindness filled his eyes with tears.
Striking off from the turnpike I galloped across the fields, through woods, over hills and hollows, reached the Antietam, crossed it by a ford, and ascended the hill to Hoffman's farm.
Sedgwick and Williams were fighting to hold their ground. It was a terrific fire. There were heavy surges, like breakers upon the sea-beaches, like angry thunder in the clouds,--ripples, rolls, waves, crashes! It was not like the voice of many waters, for that is deep, solemn, sweet, peaceful; the symbol of the song of the redeemed ones, which will ascend forever before the throne of God, when all war shall have ceased.