BELMONT AFTER THE FIGHT.–

John Seaton, Captain of company B in the Twenty-second Illinois regiment, relates the following incidents:

“The day after the battle, Col. Hart was in command of the party that went down with a flag of truce to bury the dead, and take up the wounded that still lay on the battle-field. Of my company, there went Lieut. Morgan, Corporal B. B. Gould, privates T. C. Young, J. W. Young, and Phil. Sackett. They relate some very affecting scenes they witnessed upon the battle-field, one of which was the finding of the body of Lieut.-Col. Wentz by his wife. There lay the corpse on that blood-stained field, ghastly in the embrace of death. She stands gazing at it fixedly, and motionless as though rooted to the spot; presently her eyes fill with tears, and she breaks out in a low, agonizing cry: ‘Poor—-poor—soul—is it gone?’ and falls prostrate upon his body. Then it was that stout and hard-featured men wept. Every rebel officer took out his pocket handkerchief to wipe away the tears that came trickling down their cheeks. One of them remarked, ‘I’d give ten thousand dollars to recall that man to life.’ And the ‘boys’ say they believe he meant it. They found many poor fellows badly wounded that had lain there since the battle. The rebels had been around during the night, and given them water, and other necessaries, and had taken a great many into the hospitals.

“I believe we did meet the flower of the Southern army, for they fought bravely, and their arms were all superior to ours. Every piece I saw was rifled, and had all the latest improvements; and there were a great many Sharp’s six-shooting rifles. Their officers’ uniforms were splendid and gorgeous, but the men’s clothes were nearly all of a brownish gray, coarse, home-spun jeans. In the early part of the fight, two men of company C brought a long, lean prisoner to me. He was about six feet two inches, and belonged to the Second Tennessee regiment. He was very much scared. I asked him how many men we were fighting; he raised his hands above his head, and spoke in that peculiar style so much in vogue in the rural districts of Slave States, where they see so much of the ‘nigger.’ ‘To God, stranger, I can’t tell; this ground was jist kivered with men this mornin’; swar me in, stranger; I’ll take the oath right now; I’ll fight for you; only please don’t kill me.” I told him he should not be hurt, if he behaved himself, and tied him, commanding him to lie down and remain there till I came back, and then left him. I saw him no more that day, but some one else brought him along before night.

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