passages from an old volume of life-第7章

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hen；　in　this　region　of　the　field　of　strife。　　We　stopped　the　wagon；　and；　getting　out；　began　to　look　around　us。　　Hard　by　was　a　large　pile　of　muskets；　scores；　if　not　hundreds；　which　had　been　picked　up；　and　were　guarded　for　the　Government。　　A　long　ridge　of　fresh　gravel　rose　before　us。　　A　board　stuck　up　in　front　of　it　bore　this　inscription；　the　first　part　of　which　was；　I　believe；　not　correct：　〃The　Rebel　General　Anderson　and　80　Rebels　are　buried　in　this　hole。〃　Other　smaller　ridges　were　marked　with　the　number　of　dead　lying　under　them。　The　whole　ground　was　strewed　with　fragments　of　clothing；　haversacks；　canteens；　cap…boxes；　bullets；　cartridge…boxes；　cartridges；　scraps　of　paper；　portions　of　bread　and　meat。　　I　saw　two　soldiers'　caps　that　looked　as　though　their　owners　had　been　shot　through　the　head。　　In　several　places　I　noticed　dark　red　patches　where　a　pool　of　blood　had　curdled　and　caked；　as　some　poor　fellow　poured　his　life　out　on　the　sod。　　I　then　wandered　about　in　the　cornfield。　　It　surprised　me　to　notice；　that；　though　there　was　every　mark　of　hard　fighting　having　taken　place　here；　the　Indian　corn　was　not　generally　trodden　down。　One　of　our　cornfields　is　a　kind　of　forest；　and　even　when　fighting；　men　avoid　the　tall　stalks　as　if　they　were　trees。　　At　the　edge　of　this　cornfield　lay　a　gray　horse；　said　to　have　belonged　to　a　Rebel　colonel；　who　was　killed　near　the　same　place。　　Not　far　off　were　two　dead　artillery　horses　in　their　harness。　　Another　had　been　attended　to　by　a　burying…party；　who　had　thrown　some　earth　over　him　but　his　last　bed…　clothes　were　too　short；　and　his　legs　stuck　out　stark　and　stiff　from　beneath　the　gravel　coverlet。　　It　was　a　great　pity　that　we　had　no　intelligent　guide　to　explain　to　us　the　position　of　that　portion　of　the　two　armies　which　fought　over　this　ground。　　There　was　a　shallow　trench　before　we　came　to　the　cornfield；　too　narrow　for　a　road；　as　I　should　think；　too　elevated　for　a　water…course；　and　which　seemed　to　have　been　used　as　a　rifle…pit。　　At　any　rate；　there　had　been　hard　fighting　in　and　about　it。　　This　and　the　cornfield　may　serve　to　identify　the　part　of　the　ground　we　visited；　if　any　who　fought　there　should　ever　look　over　this　paper。　　The　opposing　tides　of　battle　must　have　blended　their　waves　at　this　point；　for　portions　of　gray　uniform　were　mingled　with　the　〃garments　rolled　in　blood〃　torn　from　our　own　dead　and　wounded　soldiers。　　I　picked　up　a　Rebel　canteen；　and　one　of　our　own；but　there　was　something　repulsive　about　the　trodden　and　stained　relics　of　the　stale　battle…field。　　It　was　like　the　table　of　some　hideous　orgy　left　uncleared；　and　one　turned　away　disgusted　from　its　broken　fragments　and　muddy　heeltaps。　　A　bullet　or　two；　a　button；　a　brass　plate　from　a　soldier's　belt；　served　well　enough　for　mementos　of　my　visit；　with　a　letter　which　I　picked　up；　directed　to　Richmond；　Virginia；　its　seal　unbroken。　　〃N。　C。　Cleveland　County。　　E。　Wright　to　J。　Wright。〃　　On　the　other　side；　〃A　few　lines　from　W。　L。　Vaughn。〃　　who　has　just　been　writing　for　the　wife　to　her　husband；　and　continues　on　his　own　account。　　The　postscript；　〃tell　John　that　nancy's　folks　are　all　well　and　has　a　verry　good　Little　Crop　of　corn　a　growing。〃　　I　wonder；　if；　by　one　of　those　strange　chances　of　which　I　have　seen　so　many；　this　number　or　leaf　of　the　〃Atlantic〃　will　not　sooner　or　later　find　its　way　to　Cleveland　County；　North　Carolina；　and　E。　Wright；　widow　of　James　Wright；　and　Nancy's　folks；　get　from　these　sentences　the　last　glimpse　of　husband　and　friend　as　he　threw　up　his　arms　and　fell　in　the　bloody　cornfield　of　Antietam？　　I　will　keep　this　stained　letter　for　them　until　peace　comes　back；　if　it　comes　in　my　time；　and　my　pleasant　North　Carolina　Rebel　of　the　Middletown　Hospital　will；　perhaps　look　these　poor　people　up；　and　tell　them　where　to　send　for　it。

On　the　battle…field　I　parted　with　my　two　companions；　the　Chaplain　and　the　Philanthropist。　　They　were　going　to　the　front；　the　one　to　find　his　regiment；　the　other　to　look　for　those　who　needed　his　assistance。　We　exchanged　cards　and　farewells；　I　mounted　the　wagon；　the　horses'　heads　were　turned　homewards；　my　two　companions　went　their　way；　and　I　saw　them　no　more。　　On　my　way　back；　I　fell　into　talk　with　James　Grayden。　　Born　in　England；　Lancashire；　in　this　country　since　be　was　four　years　old。　　Had　nothing　to　care　for　but　an　old　mother；　didn't　know　what　he　should　do　if　he　lost　her。　　Though　so　long　in　this　country；　he　had　all　the　simplicity　and　childlike　lightheartedness　which　belong　to　the　Old　World's　people。　　He　laughed　at　the　smallest　pleasantry；　and　showed　his　great　white　English　teeth；　he　took　a　joke　without　retorting　by　an　impertinence；　he　had　a　very　limited　curiosity　about　all　that　was　going　on；　he　had　small　store　of　information；　he　lived　chiefly　in　his　horses；　it　seemed　to　me。　　His　quiet　animal　nature　acted　as　a　pleasing　anodyne　to　my　recurring　fits　of　anxiety；　and　I　liked　his　frequent　〃'Deed　I　don't　know；　sir。〃　　better　than　I　have　sometimes　relished　the　large　discourse　of　professors　and　other　very　wise　men。

I　have　not　much　to　say　of　the　road　which　we　were　travelling　for　the　second　time。　　Reaching　Middletown；　my　first　call　was　on　the　wounded　Colonel　and　his　lady。　　She　gave　me　a　most　touching　account　of　all　the　suffering　he　had　gone　through　with　his　shattered　limb　before　he　succeeded　in　finding　a　shelter；　showing　the　terrible　want　of　proper　means　of　transportation　of　the　wounded　after　the　battle。　　It　occurred　to　me；　while　at　this　house；　that　I　was　more　or　less　famished；　and　for　the　first　time　in　my　life　I　begged　for　a　meal；　which　the　kind　family　with　whom　the　Colonel　was　staying　most　graciously　furnished　me。

After　tea；　there　came　in　a　stout　army　surgeon；　a　Highlander　by　birth；　educated　in　Edinburgh；　with　whom　I　had　pleasant；　not　unstimulating　talk。　　He　had　been　brought　very　close　to　that　immane　and　nefandous　Burke…and…Hare　business　which　made　the　blood　of　civilization　run　cold　in　the　year　1828；　and　told　me；　in　a　very　calm　way；　with　an　occasional　pinch　from　the　mull；　to　refresh　his　memory；　some　of　the　details　of　those　frightful　murders；　never　rivalled　in　horror　until　the　wretch　Dumollard；　who　kept　a　private　cemetery　for　his　victims；　was　dragged　into　the　light　of　day。　　He　had　a　good　deal　to　say；　too；　about　the　Royal　College　of　Surgeons　in　Edinburgh；　and　the　famous　preparations；　mercurial　and　the　rest；　which　I　remember　well　having　seen　there；the　〃sudabit　multum。〃　　and　others；also　of　our　New　York　Professor　Carnochan's　handiwork；　a　specimen　of　which　I　once　admired　at　the　New　York　College。　　But　the　doctor　was　not　in　a　happy　frame　of　mind；　and　seemed　willing　to　forget　the　present　in　the　past：　things　went　wrong；　somehow；　and　the　time　was　out　of　joint　with　him。

Dr。　Thompson；　kind；　cheerful；　companionable；　offered　me　half　his　own　wide　bed；　in　the　house　of　Dr。　Baer；　for　my　second　night　in　Middletown。　　Here　I　lay　awake　again　another　night。　　Close　to　the　house　stood　an　ambulance　in　which　was　a　wounded　Rebel　officer；　attended　by　one　of　their　own　surgeons。　　He　was　calling　out　in　a　loud　voice；　all　night　long；　as　it　seemed　to　me；　〃Doctor！　　Doctor！　　Driver！　Water！〃　in　loud；　complaining　tones；　I　have　no　doubt　of　real　suffering；　but　in　strange　contrast　with　the　silent　patience　which　was　the　almost　universal　rule。

The　courteous　Dr。　Thompson　will　let　me　tell　here　an　odd　coincidence；　trivial；　but　having　its　interest　as　one　of　a　series。　　The　Doctor　and　myself　lay　in　the　bed；　and　a　lieutenant；　a　friend　of　his；　slept　on　the　sofa；　At　night；　I　placed　my　match…box；　a　Scotch　one；　of　the　Macpherson…plaid　pattern；　which　I　bought　years　ago；　on　the　bureau；　just　where　I　could　put　my　hand　upon　it。　　I　was　the　last　of　the　three　to　rise　in　the　morning；　and　on　looking　for　my　pretty　match…box；　I　found　it　was　gone。　　This　was　rather　awkward；not　on　account　of　the　loss；　but　of　the　unavoidable　fact　that　one　of　my　fellow…lodgers　must　have　taken　it。　　I　must　try　to　find　out　what　it　meant。

〃By　the　way；　Doctor；　have　you　seen　anything　of　a　little　plaid…pattern　match…box？〃

The　Doctor　put　his　hand　to　his　pocket；　and；　to　his　own　huge　surprise　and　my　great　gratification；　pulled　out　two　match…boxes　exactly　alike；　both　printed　with　the　Macpherson　plaid。　　One　was　his；　the　other　mine；　which　he　had　seen　lying　round；　and　naturally　took　for　his　own；　thrusting　it　into　his　pocket；　where　it　found　its　twin…brother　from　the　same　workshop。　　In　memory　of　which　event；　we　exchanged　boxes；　like　two　Homeric　heroes。

This　curious　coincidence　illustrates　well　enough　some　supposed　cases　of　plagiarism　of　which　I　will　mention　one　where　my　name　figured。　When　a　little　poem　called　〃The　Two　Streams　〃　was　first　printed；　a　writer　in　the　New　York　〃Evening　Post〃　virtually　accused　the　author　of　it　of　borrowing　the　thought　from　a　baccalaureate　sermon　of　President　Hopkins　of　Williamstown；　and　printed　a　quotation　from　that　discourse；　which；　as　I　thought；　a　thief　or　catch…poll　might　well　consider　as　establishing　a　fair　presumption　that　it　was　so　borrowed。　　I　was　at　the　same　time　wholly　unconscious　of　ever　having　met　with　the　discourse　or　the　sentence　which　the　verses　were　most　like；　nor　do　I　believe　I　ever　had　seen　or　heard　either。　　Some　time　after　this；　happening　to　meet　my　eloquent　cousin；　Wendell　Phillips；　I　mentioned　the　fact　to　him；　and　he　told　me　that　he　had　once　used　the　special　image　said　to　be　borrowed；　in　a　discourse　delivered　at　Williamstown。　On　relating　this　to　my　friend　Mr。　Buchanan　Read；　he　informed　me　that　he　too；　had　used　the　image；perhaps　referring　to　his　poem　called　〃The　Twins。〃　　He　thought　Tennyson　had　used　it　also。　　The　parting　of　the　streams　on　the　Alps　is　poetically　elaborated　in　a　passage　attributed　to　〃M。　Loisne；〃　printed　in　the　〃Boston　Evening　Transcript〃　for　October　23；　1859。　　Captain；　afterwards　Sir　Francis　Head；　speaks　of　the　showers　parting　on　the　Cordilleras；　one　portion　going　to　the　Atlantic；　one　to　the　Pacific。　　I　found　the　image　running　loose　in　my　mind；　without　a　halter。　　It　suggested　itself　as　an　illustration　of　the　will；　and　I　worked　the　poem　out　by　the　aid　of　Mitchell's　School　Atlas。　The　spores　of　a　great　many　ideas　are　floating　about　in　the　atmosphere。　　We　no　more　know　where　all　the　growths　of　our　mind　came　from；　than　where　the　lichens　which　eat　the　names　off　from　the　gravestones　borrowed　the　germs　that　gave　them　birth。　　The　two　match…　boxes　were　just　alike；　but　neither　was　a　plagiarism。

In　the　morning　I　took　to　the　same　wagon　once　more；　but；　instead　of　James　Grayden；　I　was　to　have　for　my　driver　a　young　man　who　spelt　his　name　〃Phillip　Ottenheimer〃　and　whose　features　at　once　showed　him　to　be　an　Israelite。　　I　found　him　agreeable　enough；　and　disposed　to　talk。　So　I　asked　him　many　questions　about　his　religion；　and　got　some　answers　that　sound　strangely　in　Christian　ears。　　He　was　from　Wittenberg；　and　had　been　educated　in　strict　Jewish　fashion。　　From　his　childhood　he　had　read　Hebrew；　but　was　not　much　of　a　scholar　otherwise。　　A　young　person　of　his　race　lost　caste　utterly　by　marrying　a　Christian。　　The　Founder　of　our　religion　was　considered　by　the　Israelites　to　have　been　〃a　right　smart　man　and　a　great　doctor。〃　　But　the　horror　with　which　the　reading　of　the　New　Testament　by　any　young　person　of　their　faith　would　be　regarded　was　as　great；　I　judged　by　his　language；　as　that　of　one　of　our　straitest　sectaries　would　be；　if　he　found　his　son　or　daughter　perusing　the　〃Age　of　Reason。〃

In　approaching　F