New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, 1883-12-26
BULL Run.
The Famous Battlefield as it Appears To-
Day.

! first has fastened itself on us. There
I is savage fascination about it which
we who lived on that day cannot es-
cape. And yet it was not yesterday.
saw lounging against lamp post
here at Manassas, not an hour ago, a
handsome young Southerner pulling at
his moustache. l approached and ask
ed him of the battle. He had been
born since it was fought So you see
it was not fought yesterday, this battle
of Bull Run, when the cannon shook
the earth even to the shores of Oregon.
And do you know the North played the
air of '.Dixie' in this first battle? tits
SO. The South had not yet learned it,
but played "The Girl [ Left Behind
Me-" Let us look in upon this battle
field as we look upon the face of one
whom we knew well nearly a quarter
of a century ago. By wide, well
kept country road, through cornfelds
and clumps of oak, chestnut, walnut,
hickory and half dozen other kinds of
scrub trees, some of them badly shot to
pieces, we were driven toward the mud
dy, sluggish, crooked and ugly little
stream OF Bull Run. In this drive of
four miles we met one man on horse
back; we passed one man on horse
and a barefoot negro boy on foot, driv-
ing little flock OF sheep. Overhead I
saw single raven; not a bird, not a
squirrel on either hand; but the crick-
cts and grasshoppers in the cornfelds
and clumps of wood on either side of
us chirped and sang necessarily.
At the end Of four miles we turned
through a gate to the right into field;
COWS were scattered here and there
around the crescent of the hill; on the
crest of the hill stood long, frame
farm house; back of this house little
brown stone monument to the dead
soldiers; in front of it, in the door yard,
a grave stone. The house which form.
erly stood here had been torn to splint-
ers during the battle. The lady buried
in the grave in the dooryard was killed
here. She was the mother of the kind
old gentleman who now inherits this
place. The battlefield was his mothers
farm. 1t is now his, and he shows you
over it. He was teaching school down
at Alexandria at the time his mother
was killed here-a school teacher for
forty years. He and his sister live in
this old gray house together; no one but
these two old deaf people for many a
mile about. The peach trees are break
ing down under loads of fruit in the
heart of the battlefield, a little way
down on the slope of the hill below the
grave in the dooryard. Long strings
of fat turkeys tread the tangled grass
through the orchard, chasing the grass
hoppers. Below this orchard, half
mile away and curving around in a
muddy crescent, but hidden by q young
growth OF trees, creeps the Bull Run.
On the morning OF the battle, the
broad cornfields on the other side and
away out yonder, miles away over the
foothills, the Federal bayonets gleam-
cd by tens Of thousands. They were
marching for Bcauregard's rear, or
rather for the Midland line, by which
he had come up from the South. He
had come out from Manassas, four
miles away, to stop this movement, as
all the world knows. The North was
not to be stopped. Hence the battle
here. But this is trenching on history
and we must draw the line. You can
see where the South reiterated to where
stood Jackson, ''likc q stone wall. :"
Back OF this house, where the old
schoolmaster lives with his oldest Sis
ter, about a hundred yards, ana almost
at the top of the gently slopiug hill, on
the cutter edge OF the tail. rank corn,
and against :. young growth OF pines,
is the place where Jackson got down
! to pay. And here it WAS he sat on his
| hor%e, WAS wounded, held his rnen in
stuD: tl:'a l::.e t,,a! day, while th storm
Of ,:,ti.e neat against them, and SO .9o,:
slo Ding hill that lies here, between this
house and the place where Jackson sat
on his horse during the battle, the dead
lay thickest when the fight was done.
The corn is rank and tall But I do
not see, as some pretend to, when look
ing over the field of Waterloo, that the
blood Of brave men has put any partic-
ular mark of vitality upon it. The
truth is, if some one did not point out
to you all this you would know nothing
whatever of the battle of Bull Run.
Nature covers up all such scars; time
heals the wounds on the breast of our
common mother, as well as our own.
Wander about here for a week, as l
have done, and, save for the one little
brown stone monument here, the old
earthWorks at Manassas and some
Scared old trees, I have picked up one
bullet and one button from soldier
coat; that is all. But on the earth
works near Manassas, under peach
tree, while picking up peaches, found
IN Indian arrow head. Think Of it,,
and follow these two facts: What 9TH
er battles, what other races had fought
for the fields of Virginia ages and ages
before?
Not many people come to visit this
battlefield. / have seen thousand at
Waterloo for single visitor here. ~
The great trench where the dead
were buried on this sloping hill, imme-
diately under where Stonewall Jack
son sat his horse during the battle, is
still trench. This is sore that re-
fuses to heal. 1t has become little
drain OF rivulet. The bones of the
dead were mostly taken away at the
close of the war, and this opened the
trench anew. This portion of the bat
tletield is pasture now. A little line
Of trees has grown along the banks OF
this trench. Under these rank young
trees, good many sleek spotted cat
tie stood yesterday chewing the cud
and lazily switching flies. You never
hear sound Of any kind around here
at all, no coming and going Of carrias.
es, as at Waterloo and other great bat.
tlefelds of Europe. The trees are turn.
ing little red in the blush of early
autumn. There is a hazy gray atmos.
phere over all here which makes the
stiffness seem more still; a weary ghos
of the smoke Of war. In the corners O
The old Virginia worm fences the wile
berry grows rank and red, as if drip
ping with blood. The very earth il
red, as if the bosom of mother eartl
bleess perpetually for her brave deat
WHO iell in the battle here.-Joags1i'
NIL, a. aa1 Ghicnnn Times