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In front of us and below us is the town, with the river winding into it
at the east and out of it at the west; and beyond the town, to the
north, is the cup-shaped valley of fair, fat farm lands, all heavy and
pregnant with un-garnered, ungathered crops. Behind us, on the front of
the hill, is a hedge, and beyond the hedge--just a foot or so back of
it, in fact--is a deep trench, plainly dug out by hand, and so lately
done that the cut clods are still moist and fresh-looking. At the first
instant of looking it seems to us that this intrenchment is full of dead
men; but when we look closer we see that what we take for corpses are
the scattered garments and equipments of French infantrymen--long blue
coats; peaked, red-topped caps; spare shirts; rifled knapsacks; water-
bottles; broken guns; side arms; bayonet belts and blanket rolls. There
are perhaps twenty guns in sight. Each one has been rendered useless by
being struck against the earth with sufficient force to snap the stock
at the grip.


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