rush upon each other, not merely with their empty hands, but armed with clubs and axes, or sharp swords and spears, and, yet further, with instruments belching forth fire and smoke and able to throw leaden bullets into the eyes and bosoms of their fellow-men, inflicting mortal wounds,—and, behind all, dragging great engines, loaded with heavy iron balls, which are able to crush in the faces and skulls of tens and dozens of human beings at a shot:—it were a sight, it would seem, for angels to weep at, for men to shudder at!
Then, the battle itself,— how awful! Tens of thousands of men stand assembled on the one side of a field,—and an equal number on the other,—preparing themselves for the work of mutual destruction. How many hearts in those crowds quivering, if not with bodily fear, at least with an undefined sensation of dread, as they stand thus in the very presence of Death! What anxious thoughts of home and friends, wife and children, parents and sisters, crowd at such a time on the oppressed brain! what a tumult of conflicting emotions! the terrible excitements of suspense are quite intolerable; and, in spite of dread, they almost long for the battle to begin, to shake off the horrors of these waiting moments. At length the hostile line is seen advancing—it is coming on. Now brace the nerves— now, fellows, stand strong—here they come;—"support me and I will support you." O, this is terrible—is there no escape? Those dreadful sabres of the cavalry glittering in the sun as they come on! Stand firm now! The order is given—"Fire!" The ranks discharge their muskets, and, in the midst of the smoke, the horses are upon them! O then the terrible meleé! The shouts of the cavalry as they leap
