Orleans independent standard. [volume] (Irasburgh, Vt.) 1856-1871, 1864-01-15
Scenes on the Battlefield of
Chickamauga.

a correspondent of the Cincinnati
Commercial writes
Returning to the rear, | passed many
Of the dead of both armies. Here
stopped my horse to gaze on the face Of
mere boy, in rebel uniform, who had
been shot through the Leart. / never
saw loveler face. His eyes, moist and
blue, were wide open, and expressed an
excited JOY, If ever saw it in human face.
His lips were parted by winning smile.
| have seen pleasure on the faces of the
slain before, but never anything that was
so unequivocally happy. The dead boy
could not have been more than fifteen.
He was enveloped, rather than dressed,
in loose gray uniform, as neatly kept
as it was clumsy. His loose stockings
had fallen around his worn shoes, reveal
ing white and slender legs. What moths
er was robbed of her tender child wher
this poor boy fell?
Not far off reclined German Fed
eral artiIleryman, with a patriarchal
beard aud face as composed in death as
if modelled after Socrates own. He had
bled to death from wound in the neck,
and his features wore the placid look of
all who die from that cause. One arm
was thrown under his head, the other lay
loosely by his side, His fingers had al
most clasped delicate mimosa that ran
near, but its fragile leaves had opened
with the morning. An Infants breath
would have shut up its tender foliage--it
would almost shrink together from the
touch of the wild bees foot-but its stem
twinkled between the dead soldiers fin
gers with leaves as open and blooming
as if it loved the cold caress.
Turning again to the rear, passed in-
to hospital. Here | found a number
of the Woodward Boys, one of the first
companies 10 leave this city. 1t had TAX
en- twenty-ei2ht men into Saturdays fight,
of that number two were killed and elev-
en- wounded. There was little Jesse De-
Beck, who once discharged from the ser.
vice as minor against his will, ran off
from bis home when his company went
10 Western Virginia, and re-enlisted. He
lay shot in three places-leg, right arm,
and hideous wound through the mouth.
He extended his left hand to me, with an
apology for not giving me his shattered
'ight--the little hero-"I'm nearly shot
% pieces, ain't l." he said, as well as he
,oud utter the words through his torn
,aate and jaw, but not a word of CON-
,laint, not a sigh Of pain or discomfort
would he utter.
In his recent report of the Chickamau>
"a battles, Il. T. Taylor records the fol-
owing solemn yet creditable fact:
II any one thinks that when our men
re stricken upon the field they fill the
ir with cries and groans, till it shivers
With such evidence of agony, he greatly
rrs. An arm is shattered, leg carried
way, bullet pierces the breast, and the
older sinks down silently upon he
round or creeps away, it he can, with
ut murmer or complaint; falls, as the
parrow falls, speechlessly, and like that
parrow, ! earnestly believe, falls not
'ithout the Father. The dying horse
ives out his fearful utierance of almost
uman suffering, but the mansled rider
} dumb. The crash Of muskeIry, the
rack of rifles, and the roar OF guns, the
h,iek of shells, the rebel whoop, the
federal cheer, and that indescribable un-
erlone Of grinding, rumbling, splinter
g sound, make up the voices of the
atlle-feld.