Didactic fiction; Roe, Edward Payson, 1838-1888; Short stories
Hopeless indeed must that region be which May cannot clothe with some
degree of beauty and embroider with flowers. On the 5th day of the
month the early dawn revealed much that would charm the eyes of all
true lovers of nature even in that section of Virginia whose
characteristics so grimly correspond with its name--The Wilderness. The
low pines and cedars, which abound everywhere, had taken a fresh green;
the deciduous trees, the tangled thickets, impenetrable in many places
by horse or man, were putting forth a new, tender foliage, tinted with
a delicate semblance of autumn hues. Flowers bloomed everywhere, humbly
in the grass close to the soil as well as on the flaunting sprays of
shrubbery and vines, filling the air with fragrance as the light
touched and expanded the petals. Wood-thrushes and other birds sang as
melodiously and contentedly as if they had selected some breezy upland
forest for their nesting-place instead of a region which has become a
synonym for gloom, horror, and death.
Lonely and uninhabited in its normal condition, this forbidding
wilderness had become peopled with thousands of men. The Army of the
Potomac was penetrating and seeking to pass through it. Vigilant
General Lee had observed the movement, and with characteristic boldness
and skill ordered his troops from their strong intrenchments on Mine
Run toward the Union flank. On this memorable morning the van of his
columns wakened from their brief repose but a short distance from the
Federal bivouac. Both parties were unconscious of their nearness, for
with the exception of a few clearings the dense growth restricted
vision to a narrow range. The Union forces were directed in their
movements by the compass, as if they were sailors on a fog-enshrouded
sea; but they well knew that they were seeking their old antagonist,
the Army of Northern Virginia, and that the stubborn tug-of-war might
begin at any moment.
When Captain Nichol shook off the lethargy of a brief troubled sleep,
he found that the light did not banish his gloomy impressions. Those
immediately around him were still slumbering, wrapped in their
blankets. Few sounds other than the voices of the awakening birds broke
the silence. After a little thought he drew his notebook from his
pocket and wrote as follows:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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