the second and
third day, and from which they made such desperate charges upon our
lines. On the right as you stand is Culp's Hill, the scene of Ewell's
furious, but futile, attempts to flank us there. You are in the focus of
a half-circle, from all points of which was poured in upon this now
silent hill such an artillery fire as has seldom been concentrated upon
one point of an open field in any of the great battles upon this planet.
From this spot extend your observations as you please.

Guided by the sturdy old man, I proceeded first to Culp's Hill,
following a line of breastworks into the woods. Here are seen some of
the soldiers' devices hastily adopted for defence. A rude embankment of
stakes and logs and stones, covered with earth, forms the principal
work; aside from which you meet with little private breastworks, as it
were, consisting of rocks heaped up by the trunk of a tree, or beside a
larger rock, or across a cleft in the rocks, where some sharpshooter
stood and exercised his skill at his ease.

The woods are of oak chiefly, but with a liberal sprinkling of chestnut,
black-walnut, hickory, and other common forest-trees. Very beautiful
they were that day, with their great, silent trunks, all so friendly,
their clear vistas and sun-spotted spaces. Beneath reposed huge, sleepy
ledges and boulders, their broad backs covered with lichens and old
moss. A more fitting spot for a picnic, one would say, than for a
battle.

Yet here remain more astonishing evidences of fierce fighting than
anywhere else about Gettysburg. The trees in certain localities are all
seamed, disfigured, and literally dying or dead from their wounds. The
marks of balls in some of the trunks are countless. Here are limbs, and
yonder are whole tree-tops, cut off by shells. Many of these trees have
been hacked for lead, and chips containing bullets have been carried
away for relics.

Past the foot of the hill runs Rock Creek, a muddy, sluggish stream,
"great for eels," said John Burns. Big boulders and blocks of stone lie
scattered along its bed. Its low shores are covered with thin grass,
shaded by the forest-trees. Plenty of Rebel knapsacks and haversacks lie
rotting upon the ground; and there are Rebel graves in the woods near
by. By these I was inclined to pause longer than John Burns thought it
worth the while. I felt a pity for these unhappy men which he could not
understand. To him they were dead Rebels, and nothing more; and he sp