ron.

"The reason of that is, we took twelve camp-kettles out of the well,"
said the man of the house, "and nobody knows how many more there are
down there."

The place is known as Locust Grove. In the edge of the forest, but a
little farther on, is the Wilderness Church,--a square framed building,
which showed marks of such usage as every uninhabited house receives at
the hands of a wild soldiery. Red Mars has little respect for the
temples of the Prince of Peace.

"Many a time have I been to meet'n' in that shell, and sot on hard
benches, and heard long sermons!" said Elijah. "But I reckon it'll be a
long while befo'e them doo's are darkened by a congregation ag'in. Thar
a'n't the population through hyer thar used to be. Oncet we'd have met a
hundred wagons on this road go'n' to market; but I count we ha'n't met
mo'e 'n a dozen to-day."

Not far beyond the church we approached two tall guide-posts erected
where the road forks. The one on the right pointed the way to the
"Wilderness National Cemetery, No. 1, 4 miles," by the Orange
Court-House turnpike. The other indicated the "Wilderness National
Cemetery, No. 2," by the plank road.

"All this has been done since I was this way," said Elijah.

We kept the plank road,--or rather the clay road beside it, which
stretched before us dim in the hollows, and red as brick on the
hillsides. We passed some old fields, and entered the great
Wilderness,--a high and dry country, thickly overgrown with dwarfish
timber, chiefly scrub oaks, pines, and cedars. Poles lashed to trees for
tent-supports indicated where our regiments had encamped; and soon we
came upon abundant evidences of a great battle. Heavy breastworks thrown
up on Brock's cross-road, planks from the plank road piled up and lashed
against trees in the woods, to form a shelter for our pickets,
knapsacks, haversacks, pieces of clothing, fragments of harness, tin
plates, canteens, some pierced with balls, fragments of shells, with
here and there a round-shot, or a shell unexploded, straps, buckles,
cartridge-boxes, socks, old shoes, rotting letters, desolate tracts of
perforated and broken trees,--all these signs, and others sadder still,
remained to tell their silent story of the great fight of the
Wilderness.

A cloud passed over the sun: all the scene became sombre, and hushed
with a strange brooding stillness, broken only by the noise of twigs
crackling under my feet, and distant growls of thunder. A shadow