The Weekly Perrysburg journal. [volume] (Perrysburg, O. [Ohio]) 1861-1???, 1862-11-26
The Dead at Antietam.

The Dead at Antietnm.
The celebrated artist. Brady, has on ex-
hibition in hiss gallery in New York city,
Photographic views of the battlefield Of
Antietam, Md, taken Immediately after the
action. The New York Times, speaking of
the appearance of the dead on that terrible
field, as represented by the Photographic
art, says:
These poor subjects could not give the
sun sittngs, and they are taken rs they
fell, their poor hands clutching the grass
around them in great spasms of pain, or
reaching out for u help which none gave.
Union soldier and Confederate, side by side.
here they lie, the red light of battle faded
from their eyes but their lips set as when
they met in the last fierce charge which
loosod their souls aud sent them graphing
with each other and battling to the very
gates Of Heaven. The ground whereon
| they lie is torn by shot and shell, the grass
is torn down by the tread of hot, hurrying
feet, and the rivulcts that can scarcely be
of water arc triclling along the earth like
tears over mothers face. 1t is II bleak,
barren plain, and above it bends an ashen,
sulcn sky; there is no friendly shade or
the midnight dews: coldly and mpitingly
the stars will look down ON them and dark
ness will come with night to shut them in.
But there is poetry in the scene that no
green fields or smiling landscapes can pos
scss. Here lie men who have not hesita-
ted to seal and stamp their convictions with
their blood-mcn who have flung them
selves into the great gulf of the unknown
| to teach the world that there are truths
dearer than life. wrongs and shamcs more
| to be dreaded than death. And if there
be on earth one spot where the grass will
| grow grecner than Oh another when the
next Summer comes, where the leaves of
Autumn will drop more lightly when they
| fall like bcnediction upon work completed
and promise fulfilled it is these soldiers
graves.
There is one side of the picture that the
sun did not catch, one phase that has cs-
capped Photographic skill. 1t is the back
ground of widows and orphans, torn from
the bosom of their natural protectors by
the remorseless hand of Battle, aud thrown
upon the fatherhood of God. Homes have
been made desolate, and the light of life III
| thousands of hearts have been queuched
forever. All of this desolation Imagination
must paint--broken hearts cannot be pho
| tographed.
These pictures have a terrible distinct
ness. BY the aid of the magnifying glass,
the very features of the slain may be distin-
guished. We would scarce choose to be in
| the gallery. when one of the women bend
| ing over them should recognize husband,
Il son. or brother in the still, litcless lines
of bodies, that lie ready for the gaping
trenches. For these trenches have terror
for woman's heart, that goes far to out
weigh all the others that hover over the
battlefield.
| How can mother bear to know that the
boy whose slumbers she has cradled, and
whose head her bosom pillowed until the
rolling drum called him forth--whose poor,
pale face, could she reach it, should find the
same pillow again-whose corpse should
be strcwn with the rarest flowers that
spring brings or summer leaves-when, but
for the privilege of touching that corpse,
of kissing once more the lips, though white
and cold, of smoothing back the hair from
the brow and cleansing it Of blood stains,
she would give all the remaining years of
life that heaven has allotted her-how can
this mother bear to know that in shallow
trench, hastily dug, rude hands have thrown
him. She would have handled the poor
corpse so tenderly, have priced the boon
of caring for it so deary-yet, even the i'm
perativo office of hiding the dead from sight
has been done by those who think it a
trouble, and were only glad when their
work ended.
Have heart, poor mother; grove not
without hope mourn not without consola-
ton. This is not the last of your boy,
With pealing of trumpets and beating of drums,
These trenches shall open--the Son of Man comes.
And then is reserved for him that crown
which only heroes and martyrs are per-
mitted to wear-a crown brighter than
bays, greener and more lasting than laurel.