There was no motion of the air, not enough to disturb the leaves freshly fallen from the numerous oak-trees on the battle-field.

At each step I could but contrast the cool, calm, Indian-summer day, with the hot, August morning, when the battle took place.
All sounds of battle were gone, but the traces of the encounter had not disappeared.

As we followed the route leading to the field, I turned from the beaten track and rode among the trees.

Ascending a slight acclivity, I found my horse half-stumbling over some object between his feet.

Looking down, I discovered a human skull, partly covered by the luxuriant grass.