Morning journal and courier., 1888-12-14
AT THE RATTLE OF GRAvELOTTE
The Famous Staf-Sheridan-One of
 the Worlds Grandest Scenes.

The F6mOu9 SGAm-Sher10@m @m-O0G OH
 the Worlds Grandest Scenes.
 [Aurat Halstead in the Century,
 Drawing nigh, we saw the famous staff around the king and Moltke. They had halted on the way from Rezonville to Grave lotte at a point from which could be ob- tained the movements of the right wing of the German army, and there they remained three hours. Bismarck was reclining on 8 blanket doubled and thrown on the dusty ground, where there were remnants of stalks of clover. He had a French knapsack made of oalfskin with the hair on for pillow, and his head was sheltered by strip of French tent, held by two wooden spikes. His attitude was that of dejeetion as we'll as weariness. Tho king wore very long light blue overeoat and his helmet, and was erect and alert. A colored servant was in charge of his carriage. The three carriages be- longsd respectively to the king, Bismarck and Moltke.
 Standing near the king, his feet wide apart and holding a field glass to his eyes, was General Philip H. Sheridan, who was Bis- marck's guest, and had ridden to the field in the carriage of the chancellor. The old uni form of Sheridan was dingy beside the new clothes worn br- the German leaders, who had been in the md but three weeks, and had not encountered many rain and dust storms. The hour was twenty minutes after eleven, and the sound of battle began to thicken and deepen. The scattering shots of the skirmishers were lost in the roar of firing by regiments, and the tremendous German artillery began to play like some sublime orchestra There were many dead horses and many blood stains about, and penetras ting, sour smell came from them. Between two swollen monsters located my cherished chair, and, taking the only reserved seat" at that stupendous performance, adjusted my field glass and was soon absorbed in one of the grondess scenes that mortal ever gazed upon.
 It occurred to me at the moment that no descriptive language could be better than that emploped by Henry J. Raymond in wri- ting of the battle of Solferino. He said that two storm clouds seemed to have de- scended to the earth, and to be pouring their lightnings and thunderings into each other. The masses of pearly white gunpowder smoke-here pillars of feecy snow rising to the tkies, and there whirling abysses of va- DOT, vibrating as if electri6ed-were darkly streaked by burning villages, and the sky over the French lines, where the iron rain of
 the German artillery fell, was spotted with the tiny clouds puffed by the exploding shells.
 I could see the galloping of horsemen bearing orders through the fiery mist-the l surging march of the troops, block after | block of the blue divisions of Germany
 providing to the left-the sparkle of steel and of the helmets, like flashes of starlight on U raging Sea-tno lOug OaEpS O1 uEo HUH
 the breech loading cannon of the Germans, which were each discharged at times almost as fast cowboy fires his revolver-I could discern the French positions for near three
 miles outlined by fiekering fire, and pillows of smoke that seemed to swell from a series of Niagaras; and I heard the awful uproar l oomprehending thousand stunning shocks, 1 rising at times to majesty that was beyond | all faculty of measurement, and reminded one of a transcendent burst of music-but 1 technics and monstrous clamor to tell how ] the battle was going.