There is a private cemetery on the crest, surrounded by a brick wall. Burnside’s artillery had not spared it. I looked over the wall, which was badly smashed in places, and saw the overthrown monuments and broken tombstones lying on the ground. The heights all around were covered with weeds, and scarred by Rebel intrenchments; here and there was an old apple-tree; and I marked the ruins of two or three small brick houses.
On the brow of the hill, overlooking the town, is the Marye estate, one of the finest about Fredericksburg before the blast of battle struck it. The house was large and elegant, occupying a beautiful site, and surrounded by terraces and shady lawns. Now if you would witness the results of artillery and infantry firing, visit that house. The pillars of the porch, built of brick, and covered with a cement of lime and white sand, were speckled with the marks of bullets. Shells and solid shot had made sad havoc with the walls and the wood-work inside. The windows were shivered, the partitions torn to pieces, and the doors perforated.
I found a gigantic negro at work at a carpenter’s bench in one of the lower rooms. He seemed glad to receive company, and took me from the basement to the zinc-covered roof, showing me all the more remarkable shot-holes.
“De Rebel sharpshooters was in de house; dat’s what made de Yankees shell it so.”
“Where were the people who lived here?”
“Dey all lef’ but me. I stopped to see de fight. I tell ye, I wouldn’t stop to see anoder one! I thought I was go’n’ to have fine fun, and tell all about it. I heerd de fight, but I didn’t see it!”
“Were you frightened?”
“Hoo!” flinging up his hands with a ludicrous expression. “Don’t talk about skeered! I never was so skeered since I was bo’n! I stood hyer by dis sher winder; I ’spected to see de whole of it; I know I was green! I was look’n’ to see de fir’n’ down below dar, when a bullet come by me, h’t! quick as dat. ‘Time fo’ me to be away f’om hyer!’ and I started; but I’d no sooner turned about, when de bullets begun to strike de house jes’ like dat!” drumming with his fingers. “I went down-stars, and out dis sher house, quicker ’n any man o’ my size ever went out a house befo’e! Come, and I’ll show you whar I was hid.”
It was in the cellar of a little dairy-house, of which nothing was left but the walls.
“I got in thar wid anoder cullud man. I thought I was as skeered as anybody could be; but whew! he was twicet as skeered as I was. B-r-r-r-r! b-r-r-r-r! de fir’n’ kep’ up a reg’lar noise like dat, all day long. Every time a shell struck anywhar near, I knowed de next would kill me. ‘Jim,’ says I, ‘now de next shot will be our own!’ Dem’s de on’y wu’ds I spoke; but he was so skeered he never spoke at all.”