This page needs to be proofread.
118
OLIVE BUDS.
er who should relieve my soul "must return no more."
I said,—"show me a field of battle,—that I may know what war means."
And he said,—"Thou art not able to bear the sight. But I will tell thee what I have seen, when the battle was done. A broad plain, covered with dead bodies,—and those who struggled in the pains of death. The trampled earth red with blood. Mangled bosoms sending forth dreadful groans,—and broken limbs vainly reaching for some supporting hand. Wounded horses in their agony rolling upon their riders,—and tearing with their hoofs the faces of the dying. And for every man that lay there slaughtered,—how bitter must be the mourn-