Prescott journal. [volume] (Prescott, Wis.) 1861-1871, 1862-10-15
Written for the JeURSAJ.l
FLOTSAM AND JETSA M.
no. rIvR-BY BOB EDEN.


moon shines down upon the sleeping city
the night wind sghs mournfullv among the
trees. and we shut eut the wind and moon
shine on this Sabbath evening, and enjoy the
blessing of quiet, cheerful home.
But, LUTTE, there will an unwecome thought
now and then creep in. like the pale specter
at the feast, and tonight, as / sit at my WIN
dow and look over the house-tors, shining
soft and clean in the moonlight, comes the
unbidden thought-one of those ghostly MEM
cries, connected with the dead past, and yet
of the present.
Three weeks ago. the cars left this city,
bearing away one thousand volunteers TO the
deadly battle-ground of the South. Many
of them were old friends of mine, with whom
my life had been more or less connected for
some years. and somehow, tonight, the tho't
viii arise, may not this same cold,cruel moon
be shining down with the same soft flood of
light, on white, Hpturned faces, set forever in
death, which I have seen here light Up with
the kind hearty smile of welcome, and kim
die into life and animation with the hearty
jest or social song. Sleep on, quiet city =
take your rest now, and dream of those loved
ones who are fighting for you, far away from
you, and all they hold dear within your wal s!
1t may be that to-morrow's mail or telegraph
may waken the voice of lamentation in your
midst, and from many a still, moonlight
batted roof the wall Of monrners go mp for
those who shall return no more
Many, have no doubt, viii say these are
morbid, "sensation," ideas, but | believe,
Lutte, it does us good to think Of such things
now and then, and toa great many of Ms. the
realities of this war have hardly yet come
home in their full intensity.
a city. even though it be a small one,
when viewed ct the dead of night, is. think,
a solemn spectacle. The streets-in the day
time alive with the busy stream of men and
women, each earnest and intent on the busi-
ness or pleasure Of the momert--now still and
hushed-thousands of aching brains, telling
hands, weary feet ebbing and flowing all day
long-now resting for awhile from their cares
and labors.
There is an awful mystery about these quiet
deathly- still bui dings What fcverish toss
ings-what weary muttcrings-what fever
racked fancies may not Won dim glimmering
light be the witness of; there is Dives man
sion do visions, / wonder, of dollars and
cents wrung from the widow and fatherless,
add peace to his pillow by night! Could We
but get a peep within the walls of the houses,
how many and how startling would be the
revelations of unguarded sleep.
Yonder dim light shines pale ard inds-
tinct in the moonlight. from the room where
what was but yesterday happy mother and
wife, lies waiting for the morrow TO be car
ried to its last resting place. See in the next
house. how the shadows fit across the win
dows-folks hurying TO and fro, and bark =
the wailipg CRY OF new born infant.
Life and death, the cradle and the bier, tread
fast on one anothcr's heels day and night. The
crib and the coffin-the beginning and the
end-often come closer together than we are
aware of Those who have studied statistics
tell us that no moment passes without birth
and death.
blcdiH Oi; olSSplH0 wy u'S''A va ON L
on, mothers, sisters, sweethearts and wives
rest on as best We may, for who knows what
shall be the waking on the morrow.
Did you ever think, Lutte, what nIysteri-
Gus, almost awful thing that same sleep
is-our bodies motionless and tranquil, and
the soul, the restless, never idle essence, away
offs annihilating time and space. travelling
whithcrsoever it lIsteth, and often rehearsing
the busy scenes of the day unguiden and un-
hidden.
Bat night is waning apace. Lutte; the moon
is dropping slowly down in the West and a
dull drowsiness creeping over me, warns me
to bring this paper to close. Let rs thank
God for a good roof over our heads and a
good bed to sleep on, remembering those who
are sleeping under the bare sky, resting their
aching limbs on the rough damp ground.
From battle. murder, and sudden death.
Good Lord deliver u.s. r.. C. E.