Such was the tale.
No operations took place on the 17th. The soldiers rested, casualties
were counted, wounds were dressed, confidence was restored. The funerals
of the British officers and men, killed the day before, took place at
noon. Every one who could, attended; but all the pomp of military
obsequies was omitted, and there were no Union Jacks to cover the
bodies, nor were volleys fired over the graves, lest the wounded should
be disturbed. Somewhere in the camp--exactly where, is now purposely
forgotten--the remains of those who had lost, in fighting for their
country, all that men can be sure of, were silently interred. No
monument marked the spot. The only assurance that it should be
undisturbed is, that it remains unknown. Nevertheless, the funerals were
impressive. To some the game of war brings prizes, honour, advancement,
or experience; to some the consciousness of duty well discharged; and to
others--spectators, perhaps--the pleasure of the play and the knowledge
of men and things.
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