: winding down the
hillside, crossing upon a single scantling the muddy stream that
furnished water for our own prisoners, passing near the rude cabin where
the blood-hounds were penned, in full view of the stockades where so
many thousands yielded up their lives, moving onward and up the gentle
elevation with slow and solemn tread, they at length reached the front
(south) entrance of the Cemetery, where the procession halted. On the
right (east) of the gate is a post and tablet in the form of a cross,
bearing this inscription: "National Cemetery, Andersonville, Georgia."
On the left (west) of the gate is a similar post and tablet, bearing
this inscription:

"On Fame's eternal camping-ground
Their silent tents are spread,
And Glory guards, with solemn round,
This bivouac of the dead."

A young lady, designated for the purpose, left the procession and hung
one of our most beautiful wreaths upon the cross above this inscription.

The gates were then thrown open, and the entire procession entered the
Cemetery. But how shall I describe the scene spread out before us as we
entered this solemn, silent city of the nation's dead? The Cemetery
contains forty-three acres, which are enclosed by a high board fence. It
is divided into four principal sections by broad avenues, running north
and south, and east and west, intersecting each other at right angles at
the center of the grounds. There is a sidewalk and row of young trees on
each side of these avenues. And then on either side of these avenues and
walks, what fields, what fields of white head-boards, stretching away in
long white parallel lines to the north and south, each with its simple
record of the name, regiment, and date of death of him who lies beneath
it. So they sleep their long sleep, lying shoulder to shoulder in their
graves as they had stood together in serried ranks on many a field of
battle.

Resuming our march, and moving up the broad avenue, with rank upon rank,
and thousands upon thousands of these solemn sentinels upon either side
of us, we find on the left (west) side of the avenue, a tablet with this
inscription:

"The hopes, the fears, the blood, the tears,
That marked the bitter strife,
Are now all crowned by victory
That saved the nation's life."

We paused, and hung a wreath above this inscription, and then moved on
to a tablet on the right (east) side of the avenue, with this
inscription:

"Whether in the pri