nine o’clock
As I rode rapidly past , saluting some old familiar face at each moment , I could not help feeling struck at the evidence of the desperate battle that so lately had raged there . The whole surface of the hill was one mass of dead and dying , the bearskin of the French grenadier lying side by side with the tartan of the Highlander . Deep furrows in the soil showed the track of the furious cannonade , and the terrible evidences of a bayonet charge were written in the mangled corpses around . The fight had been maintained without any intermission from daybreak till near nine o'clock that morning , and the slaughter on both sides was dreadful . The mounds of fresh earth on every side told of the soldier 's sepulchre ; and the unceasing tramp of the pioneers struck sadly upon the ear , as the groans of the wounded blended with the funeral sounds around them . In front were drawn up the dark legions of France , -- massive columns of infantry , with dense bodies of artillery alternating along the line . They , too , occupied a gently rising ground , the valley between the two armies being crossed half way by a little rivulet ; and here , during the sultry heat of the morning , the troops on both sides met and mingled to quench their thirst ere the trumpet again called them to the slaughter .