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The Burial of the Guns-Part4_Thomas Nelson Page(1853-1922)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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when he detailed the old Colonel and gave him his order to hold the pass

until relieved, and not let his guns fall into the hands of the enemy.



He knew both the Colonel and his battery. The battery was one of the oldest

in the army. It had been in the service since April, 1861,



and its commander had come to be known as "The Wheel Horse of his division".

He was, perhaps, the oldest officer of his rank in his branch of the service.



Although he had bitterly opposed secession, and was many years past

the age of service when the war came on, yet as soon as the President



called on the State for her quota of troops to coerce South Carolina,

he had raised and uniformed an artillery company, and offered it,



not to the President of the United States, but to the Governor of Virginia.

It is just at this point that he suddenly looms up to me as a soldier;



the relation he never wholly lost to me afterward, though I knew him

for many, many years of peace. His gray coat with the red facing



and the bars on the collar; his military cap; his gray flannel shirt --

it was the first time I ever saw him wear anything but immaculate linen --



his high boots; his horse caparisoned with a black, high-peaked saddle,

with crupper and breast-girth, instead of the light English hunting-saddle



to which I had been accustomed, all come before me now as if it were

but the other day. I remember but little beyond it, yet I remember,



as if it were yesterday, his leaving home, and the scenes

which immediately preceded it; the excitement created by the news



of the President's call for troops; the unanimous judgment that it meant war;

the immediate determination of the old Colonel, who had hitherto



opposed secession, that it must be met; the suppressed agitation

on the plantation, attendant upon the tender of his services



and the Governor's acceptance of them. The prompt and continuous work

incident to the enlistment of the men, the bustle of preparation,



and all the scenes of that time, come before me now. It turned

the calm current of the life of an old and placid country neighborhood,



far from any city or centre, and stirred it into a boiling torrent,

strong enough, or fierce enough to cut its way and join the general torrent



which was bearing down and sweeping everything before it.

It seemed but a minute before the quiet old plantation, in which the harvest,



the corn-shucking, and the Christmas holidays alone marked the passage

of the quiet seasons, and where a strange carriage or a single horseman



coming down the big road was an event in life, was turned into

a depot of war-supplies, and the neighborhood became a parade-ground.



The old Colonel, not a colonel yet, nor even a captain, except by brevet,

was on his horse by daybreak and off on his rounds through the plantations



and the pines enlisting his company. The office in the yard, heretofore one

in name only, became one now in reality, and a table was set out



piled with papers, pens, ink, books of tactics and regulation, at which men

were accepted and enrolled. Soldiers seemed to spring from the ground,



as they did from the sowing of the dragon's teeth in the days of Cadmus.

Men came up the high road or down the paths across the fields,



sometimes singly, but oftener in little parties of two or three,

and, asking for the Captain, entered the office as private citizens



and came out soldiers enlisted for the war. There was nothing heard of

on the plantation except fighting; white and black, all were at work,



and all were eager; the servants contended for the honor of going

with their master; the women flocked to the house to assist in the work



of preparation, cutting out and making under-clothes, knitting socks,

picking lint, preparing bandages, and sewing on uniforms;



for many of the men who had enlisted were of the poorest class,

far too poor to furnish anything themselves, and their equipment



had to be contributed mainly by wealthier neighbors. The work was

carried on at night as well as by day, for the occasion was urgent.



Meantime the men were being drilled by the Captain and his lieutenants,

who had been militia officers of old. We were carried to see the drill



at the cross-roads, and a brave sight it seemed to us: the lines marching

and countermarching in the field, with the horses galloping as they wheeled



amid clouds of dust, at the hoarse commands of the excited officers,

and the roadside lined with spectators of every age and condition.



I recall the arrival of the messenger one night, with the telegraphic order

to the Captain to report with his company at "Camp Lee" immediately;



the hush in the parlor that attended its reading; then the forced beginning

of the conversation afterwards in a somewhat strained and unnatural key,



and the Captain's quick and decisive outlining of his plans.

Within the hour a dozen messengers were on their way in various directions



to notify the members of the command of the summons, and to deliver




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