e charge; some of
the British had been frightfully mangled and mashed by blows from the
clubbed rifles of the Americans before they had retreated. Off to the
right a long line of motionless bodies marked where the Pennsylvania
militia had advanced and halted; there in the centre, lying in heaps,
were the reminders of the fiercest spot of the little conflict, where
Moulder's battery had been served with such good effect; here was the
place where Washington had led the charge.

In one brief quarter of an hour nearly three hundred men had given up
their lives, on this little farm, and there they lay attesting in mute
silence their fidelity to their principles, warm red coat and tattered
blue coat side by side, peace between them at last; indifferent each to
the severities of nature or the passions of men; unheeding alike the
ambitions of kings, the obstinacy of parliaments, or the desire of
liberty on the part of peoples. Some were lying calmly, as if their
last moments had been as peaceful as when little children they laid
themselves down to sleep; others twisted and contorted with looks of
horror and anguish fixed upon their mournful faces, which bespoke
agonies attending the departure of life like to the travail pains with
which it had been ushered into existence. Seymour with a sad heart
stooped and turned over the body of his friend, lifting his face once
more to that heaven he had gazed upon so bravely a few hours since--for
it was morning again, but oh, how different! The face was covered with
blood from the wound in the forehead, by which he had been beaten down.
Sadly, tenderly, gratefully, remembering an hour when Talbot had knelt
by his side and performed a similar service, he endeavored to wipe the
lurid stains from off his marble brow. Then a thought came to him.
Taking from his breast Katharine's handkerchief, which had never left
him, he moistened it in the snow, and finding an unstained place where
her dainty hand had embroidered her initials "K. W.," he carefully
wiped clean the white face of his dead friend. There was a little
smile upon Talbot's lips, and a look of peace and calm upon his face,
which Seymour had not seen him wear since the sinking of the frigate.
His right hand, whiter than the lace which drooped over it, was pressed
against his heart, evidently as the result of his last conscious
movement. Seymour bent down and lifted it up gently; there was
something beneath it inside his waistc