shalled his music at the head of the column of
occupation which was to march into Louisburg. The game had been
admirably played. The victory was complete. There was no need to
occupy the trenches, for those who lay in them or near them would never
rally for another battle. The troops fell back behind the wood through
which they had advanced on the preceding day. They were to form upon
the road which had been the key of the advance, and then to march,
horse and foot in column, into Louisburg, the place of honour at the
head being given to those who had made the final charge to the last
trench and through the abattis. Gorged with what it had eaten, the
dusty serpent was now slothful and full of sleep. There was no longer
need for hurry. Before the middle of the morning the lines would start
on the march of the few short miles.

During the delay a young officer of engineers, Captain Edward Franklin
by name, asked permission of his colonel to advance along the line of
march until he came to the earthworks, to which he wished to give some
examination, joining his regiment as it passed beyond the
fortifications on its march. The colonel gave his consent, not
altogether willingly. "You may see more over there than you want to
see, young man," said he.

Franklin went on, following as nearly as he could the line of the
assault of the previous day, a track all too boldly marked by the
horrid _debris_ of the fight. As he reached the first edge of the
wood, where the victorious column had made its entrance, it seemed to
him that there could have been no such thing as war. A gray rabbit
hopped comfortably across the field. Merry squirrels scampered and
scolded in the trees overhead. The jays jangled and bickered, it is
true, but a score of sweet-voiced, peaceful-throated birds sang bravely
and contentedly as though there had never been a sound more discordant
than their own speech. The air was soft and sweet, just cold enough to
stir the leaves upon the trees and set them whispering intimately. The
sky, new washed by the rain which had fallen in the night, was clean
and bright and sweet to look upon, and the sun shone temperately warm.
All about was the suggestion of calm and rest and happiness. Surely it
had been a dream! There could have been no battle here.

This that had been a dream was changed into a horrid nightmare as the
young officer advanced into the wood. About him lay the awful
evidences. Coats, c